Being Assertive?

Every once in a while I throw caution and normal behavior to the wind when it comes to dudes.

For example, yesterday I was at this boy's apartment who I've hung out with like two times. "Dude," I said, "All my roommates are leaving next semester. Let's be friends."

"Okay," he replied.

"Okay but seriously, here's my number," I said. "You should text me. Maybe I will work my way into your heart, maybe we'll just hang out. Something could happen."

Then we laughed like loons for a while. "Yeah, but you best be texting me," I said seriously, to complete the awkward seriousness of the situation, and I left. Then like an hour later, he texted me. Ha ha ha. Haaaa!

Stupid cakes

I just finished being frustrated with cake--I'm in a vegetarian dinner group (!) and it's my turn to cook tomorrow. One of the guys has a birthday tomorrow, and he is from Texas. I have a Texas shaped cake pan! So I baked a cake to eat after dinner tomorrow. However, I took the Texas cake out of the pan backwards and then couldn't flip it because it kept threatening to break beyond recognition. So now it's backwards Texas. Also my roommates and I were going to frost it to look like the Texas flag, but we had no red food coloring. Thinking quickly, we dyed some of the frosting red with grenadine. Listen, never mix cream cheese frosting with grenadine. It tastes like citric acid and awful cherries.

Scrapping the red idea, we decided to frost the cake blue with a white star in the middle. Guess what, making stars out of frosting is really hard. So right now what this guy has to look forward to is a backwards sky-blue slightly bulgy Texas cake with an uneven white diamond in the center. Also my roommate added two packets of pudding mix and an assortment of dark chocolate chips to the cake batter. I hope he likes pudding and dark chocolate chips. Aaaaand I hope he's getting another form of birthday cake tomorrow.

To all my British fans

Just kidding.
But really, according to the blogger view tracker, I've had more views from the UK than any other country. This makes no sense.

Hey, I went to Chile this summer! It was great. I'll probably post Chilean flashbacks every once in a while, but right now, I want to write about my inane college day to day life.

Today, the place where I work was sponsoring Choose to Give, which asks students to donate money. The money goes toward other student scholarships, so it's like a beautiful educational circle of life. They do this by luring students in with free ice cream.

I was working the ice cream tent, and I actually ended up flinging my first scoop of ice cream backwards onto my shirt instead of into the waiting student's cup. Probably because I was so excited about giving. If I recall correctly it was in front of a group of nice looking guys from my ward, actually, but my memory is hazy.

It was a fun event, despite how cold and sticky my shirt was, but we ran out of ice cream pretty fast. After than it was a lot harder to lure students in. We had free pens (and pins!) but those things really don't move in the student population like ice cream. But I had to stay out there, and so I just ended up yelling some dumb things, trying to get people to donate and take the pens.

Here are some keys to my success: Yelling "free STUFF!" works better than "PENS!! They are YELLOW!!"
"WRITING UTENSILS!" attracts more attention than "PENS!" but I think because nobody actually says WRITING UTENSILS.
"THIS LAST PEN IS FOR YOU!" is too personal. 
"PENS AND PINS!" will make people think you are saying 'pens' twice, once in a Texan accent.
Mumbling "Pens?" as someone walks by is more creepy than effective.
If you aren't good at body language, don't use it to attract customers. I feel like I did a lot of weird open-mouthed smiles, gesturing octopus arms, and awkward dance moves that probably scared people off. I smiled at a guy and shook my fistfuls of pens like maracas and he looked sort of horrified. I felt like I should apologize.

Anyway, choose to giiiiive! Yeah! You can donate online!

FRAYNCE

I WENT TO FRAYNCE!
Also, Germany and Austria. I will post some highlights for you. Just a couple and then more later because my left eyeball is sort of itching and so I am having a hard time focusing completely. Right now. Anyway. Some background information: I stayed with this elderly French widow and her cat. They were both insane. Her name is Madam Dard.
--
Madam Dard: I forgot to make a salad.
Me: Ah, it's not a problem. The rest of the dinner looks great.
Madam Dard: (incredulous look) No, it is a big problem. I want a salad.


Scene: I am making a sandwich. Stupid, psycho cat comes and tries to eat my sandwich. I move to the table.
Stupid cat jumps onto the floor and onto the table and tries to eat my sandwich again. I move to the counter.
Cat follow me to the counter. I slap the cat in the face approximately five times with a wet paper towel. The cat continues making the moves on my sandwich.
I shove the cat into the kitchen sink and sprint into my bedroom to eat my sandwich.


Roommate Amanda and I are going into the bathroom to brush our teeth. Amanda opens the bathroom cupboard. The psychotic cat's head pops out.


Madam Dard: I made chicken livers because I know how popular they are in America.
Me: Ha ha ha. What did you really make for dinner?
Madam Dard: ....chicken livers.


Madam Dard: You have a cold? I told you, it's because you wash your hair too much. That's an American thing to do.
Madam Dard's friend: It's true. You washed your hair today? Do you ever want to get better?
Madam Dard: (rolls eyes) All the time, Americans are washing their hair too much.


Those are some Dard quotes to get you through the night. Also, while in Paris three strange men stroked my hair. Men, that is not okay. Ask permission first. And then I will say no and we can get on with our lives.

How my Life was Almost a Psychological Thriller

One day, upon returning to my apartment, I was greeted by an envelope on my bed. There was no return address, just one of those mail stamps that informed me it had been sent through SLC. It had my address on the front, but no name. The handwriting looked like it had been done by a five year old or maybe a psychopath.

"Roommates," I inquired of my roommates, "What is this?"

Nobody knew, and the general consensus was that since I knew more kids than they did, it was probably for me. I opened the envelope.

There was no message inside, just a big, messy drawing of a clock face. The time, according to the clock, was 6:40. "Weird," I announced to my roommates. I tried to think if any of my cousins would have pulled this kind of thing. I came to the conclusion that no, they wouldn't, and also none of the under-ten crowd knew my address.

Two days later, there was another one, sent through a different city. This time the clock face said 5:00. Things were starting to get a little weird; the two different cities especially. I told my coworker about it in the format of a hilarious story, but my boss overheard and came over.

"Bethan," she said in a very serious voice, "You need to take those to the post office and ask about them."

"Yeah, maybe that's a good idea," I replied.

"And then I want you to go get some mace." she continued. My face fell dramatically.

 My boss went on to tell me the tale of a stalker she used to have (going into great detail, describing the look on his face when he finally CAME TO HER FRONT DOOR, etc.) and my coworker chimed in with a story about how his mother in law had a stalker who was so persistent and evil that she had to move.

I thanked them for their heartwarming tales and realized that Suddenly everything was really, really scary.

What had happened at 6:40 and 5? I wondered. Did I get home at those times? Did my roommates get home at those times? Suddenly I was positive that one of my roommates had returned home at those exact times this week and someone was definitely watching our place and was probably inside my apartment going through our stuff slowly and deliberately with some eerie piano soundtrack for accompaniment. I wasn't even wearing my Doc Martens that day. No defense at all.

I started texting one of my roommates, asking if we could go to the post office and then buy some mace and maybe a rottweiler.

"Hang on," she replied, "I think I know who's doing this."

The text conversation stopped abruptly. Oh. NO. I thought. She has some crazy ex-boyfriend or possessed twin sister or something and WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE HORROR MOVIE DEATHS.

Another text came.

"Yeah, it was my four year old cousin," she replied. "I called them. I guess he sent clock faces to everyone he knows."


I just want to add that when I was four and drawing pictures my main emphasis was pictures of my family standing under rainbows which I would then put on the fridge. But some kids like to mail anonymous clock faces and that is okay too. 

Uncomfortably Accurate

Today I was walking to campus when I encountered a guy from my apartment complex. We had gone on a couple of dates early in the year, and of course we see each other around a lot, and so we stopped and talked for a few minutes.

It was sort of an awkward conversation--I was feeling kind of out of it--but this was amplified to the max when, trying to make light and hilarious banter, I said "Hey, you're getting married in thirteen days!"

This was a made up number that I threw out there because I knew he was getting married sometime soon. There was a pause in the conversation.

"Uh," he said, "Yeah. Yeah, that's the exact number of days."

So then things got weird real fast.



I WAS NOT NOR HAVE I EVER STALKED HIM, HIS FIANCEE, OR HIS WEDDING.

Some Things

Hello. A lot of things have happened lately, but I haven't posted because of reasons. Here is a brief rundown:

1) My BFF from high school came to visit me for her spring break. It was da best. We did things such as watch classic films like "Trollhunter," and melt crayons with a hairdryer. Basically, we had a giant coloring book page featuring Spider-Man swinging from a building, and we taped all my crayons to it and melted the pants off of them. I think ideally it's supposed to look like each crayon ran down in a beautiful straight line, making a melty rainbow, but ours all sort of blended together and it looked like spider-man swung into a paint bomb. Just his legs were sticking out of this waxy mass of color. It looked great. It's on my wall.
Also we did this with Tess inside the house, manning the dryer and leaning out the window, while I stood outside and held the paper up to the window. So we got some weird looks.

2) I played nightgames with a bunch of dudes. First we played capture the flag, which I am sub-par at. But THEN we played hide and seek which I am AWESOME at. Hiding, that is, not finding so much...although, I gotta say, being hide and seek champion is a good example of how it's possible to be a winner and a loser at the same time. Because they couldn't find me...I mean, they were calling me, I was talking to them on the phone, texting, and they still couldn't find me...(actually, at one point two guys walked past my hiding spot and said "I don't think she'd be hardcore enough to go in there." Who's hardcore now, SUCKAAAAS?) but at the end of the day it's sort of like "Well, I'm glad we spent this last forty five minute period looking for a nineteen year old girl who was sitting very still in some bushes!" There's not like a SUCCESS moment when you are hide and seek champ. You just sort of gratefully crawl out of your hiding place and try to regain the feeling in your bum.

3) If you remember the post below this one, where I was invited to a crazy person's jungle-dance...yes. I attended that. It was really legitimate. It felt like a club, if a club were the size of a small living room. The guy who invited me was wearing sort of a torn leopard print toga thing, and there was this big Hispanic guy in a wifebeater and a tiger-print shrug who wouldn't let me in the door without rubbing my head for about ten minutes. Our convo went like this: Him: "Whoaa I love your hair. Let me see it." Me: (inaudible over powerful loud music) "Okay." Him: "I love this. I love ALL of this. Who did it?" Me: (inaudible, as my head is being manhandled) "Friend of a friend." Him: (surprised, pointing to the girl just behind me) "That girl?" Me: (violently nodding a shameless lie) "Yeah!" Him: (to bemused girl behind me, with a big high-five) "Girl, you did good!"

4) A guy in one of my classes was sort of making fun of my combat boots, and we had the following talk:
Guy: "What, were you planning on kicking someone in the shins today?"
Me: "I already did. AND THEY DIED."
This is a good way to end that particular conversation. He looked straight ahead and made a terrified face. It may have been for my benefit but who can say.

Friendly

Today, the boy I was sitting by in my religion class leaned over and said "I'm trying this new thing where I don't shower. Can you tell?"

"Not yet," I said politely. "How long has this been going on?"

"Four or five days. I just use baby powder to get the grease out of my hair."

Then he invited me to a dance party with a fog machine and lasers with a mandatory animal-costume dress code. If it's a real thing I may be tempted.

Hypothetical

Today I just want you to think about what kind of experience you'd have if suddenly the power went out while you were in your windowless bathroom taking a shower.

Old Text

Whenever I get a text that makes me laugh or feel especially good, I lock it in my phone. I rarely go through them to re-laugh or whatever, and they just end up clogging my inbox like bacon grease in an artery. I just went through them and here are some of my favorites. The range is from 2 years ago to now...heh heh. Also I've forgotten the backstory for most of these, so don't ask. I have a lot of them, but most of them were super weird or unfunny out of context or from hawt guys, so.



"Oh pip pip cheerio and so forth."

"With cam's new ratty facial hair, I may have 'the cutest one' under lock down."

"I've decided that you are the young, no blonde, straight, quieter version of Ellen Degeneres."

"Were the Russians swimming near the boat? Leaping? Breaching?"

"Want me to come see if I can find you? ...on my motorbike..."

"I had this dream that we were in the library together and suddenly there was an earthquake and the roof started caving in. You turned into a superhero--you were wearing silver spandex and purple combat boots and you had little horns like daredevil. You held up the ceiling with one hand while we all ran for cover. Later, they put up your picture next to Harold's on the first floor since you saved the library. Yep."

"...and stay drug free! Man, life is so good!"

"Your wolf made the pumpkin :)"

"How do you feel about mushrooms?"

"Yeah I can never decide if I want to make fun of him or bring him a casserole."

"Love your guts. (a command)"

From Russia WIth Love

Our apartment complex is having an Oscar night, and so certain apartments are supposed to team up and make a video. At Oscar night, prizes will be awarded, etc. etc.
My group is making a Bond spoof. During character assignments, one person said "There should be a Russian. There are always Russians in Bond movies."
So of course I volunteered.
Today we filmed. I wore a slinky dress, combat boots, and a Russian fox fur hat the size of my TORSO (the guy who supplied the hat also supplied a blue velvet Italian-made suit and footie Dr. Seuss pjs. I would like to get to know this guy better, maybe) and it was great. Here were my lines, delivered in my heaviest Russian accent:
(After being hit by Bond) "You hit like baby."
(While my goons drag Bond towards a pile of snow) "Put him on ICE, boys!"
"Your state secrets belong to the state now, BOND!"

"Как дела...BOND?!" (trans: How are you doing...BOND?!) It has been a great experience for me and my career. In other news, there was also a nerd party today, and one of my neighbors stopped by because I'd mentioned that maybe I had a superhero t-shirt she could wear for said party. When she came over I couldn't find it but I felt guilty telling her I had nothing nerdy to offer becaaaause when she knocked on the door I was playing Batman: Arkham Asylum on my computer. It's a sweet game, if that's any excuse.

Portal Pocket

Last night, I was at the grocery store. I pulled out my cell phone to see what time it was, because the two highest priorities for my cell phone are to tell time and to operate as a flashlight when my roommate is asleep.
I returned the phone to my pocket.
Shortly thereafter, I felt something moving down my leg, inside of my pants. My immediate, panicky thought was that a snake had gotten into my pants, followed by the realization that this idea made no sense.
My phone fell out of my pant leg. Several other shoppers and I stared at it, all of us, I think, amicably surprised.
I checked for a hole in my pocket, and there isn't one. It really doesn't make sense that I would have stuck it in the waistband of my pants, because I was definitely aiming for my pocket and it is not in the immediate area of my waistband.
The only remaining option is that my pocket is a portal. I just wish it went somewhere cooler.

Conversations with the exchange student part II

Visited the fam this weekend. Here are some Mexican-American gems:

FES is coughing on some water, so my brother comes up behind to administer a fake Heimlich:
FES: "WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I'm over here DYING and you want to play?!"

Playing Taboo:

Sister 1: "It's something that FES needs to come to America..."
FES: "Sombrero!"

Sister 1: "FES is familiar with this..."
FES: "Alcoholism!"

Sister 1: "FES likes this..."
FES: "Alcohol! Smoke! Cow poop!"

FES: "Hello, BYU pedophile!"
ME: "...What did you just call me?"
FES: "You know. BYU pedophile. Because BYU cougars. Cougars and pedophiles are ladies who like younger guys."

There's no way that mascot catches on.

Pretention Backfired

Yesterday a guy from one of my classes invited me over to his friend's apartment to play super smash bros. (I LOVE THAT GAME)
These guys are kind of witty snarky/rude...usually in a funny way...and so I was all like, "THREE can play this game of snark!"
There were these giant gaudy columns in his complex so I said "Awww dang, look at the Roman architecture you have in this place.."
You know. Being pretentious. Because obviously they were giant gaudy columns.
But then they were both like "Are you serious? 'Ooh, look at the Greco-Roman themes,' what do you do, research ancient architecture in your spare time?"
"No!" I said, "I meant it like, wow what a fancy place you got here--"
"SHE'S GOT MORE! Tell me more! Can you analyze these concrete steps?"

And they teased me about it for hours. HOURS. I don't even fully understand how they got to wherever they were.
LESSON LEARNED.

The Office

I like my coworkers. Here are some office quotes from today:


Male coworker 1: That story you wrote was awesome.
Female coworker 1: YOU'RE awesome!
Male coworker 1: Stop flirting with me.
Female coworker 1: I will. That was my only pickup line.

Female coworker 1: Hey, are we listening to AWOLnation?
Hipster coworker 1: Yeah. You know them? (pause) ...Are they popular now or something?

Male coworker 2: They're doing a physical attractiveness test in the hallway.
Married male coworker 3: You'd pass with flying colors. Ow owww!

Male coworker 2: I tried to draw the ugliest human being that I could and I ended up drawing Newt Gingrich.

Female coworker 2: What is on your desk?
Male coworker 2: My lunch.
Female coworker 2: That's not a lunch. You have doughnuts and corn nuts.

My boss actually overheard that one and came in saying "You need your vitamins. Here." Then she gave us all peppermint bark.

Major Trouble

I thought about apologizing for that pun but I'm not going to because it's too good.
heh heh
Puns aside, I have a really hard time remembering people's majors. But the thing is I don't REALIZE that I'm bad at remembering until it's too late. I think I know someone's major, but then it turns out my brain just chose some completely random field of study and gave it to my mouth for distribution before sending it through edits or common sense checker or anything. These have all happened within the past week or so:


ME: Oh yeah, because you're a law student.
DUDE: Actually, family and behavior science.

ME: You're majoring in psychology, you know this stuff.
GUY: I'm in dietetics.

ME: That's cool that you're both studying communication disorders.
COUPLE: Yeah, that'd be cool... I'm in environmental and developmental biology. And he's in theater.


There's absolutely no connection! It's a really, really weird phenomenon that I'm trying to understand.

Quiet Nerdiness

A bunch of people came over to our apartment to eat dinner tonight, but I was not feeling social. As such, I hung out in the kitchen, not contributing to the conversation.
The only time I did speak up was to jump into their ongoing conversation to explain why, according to Tolkien, the giant eagles couldn't have just flown Frodo and the ring to Mordor.
There was kind of a weird pause following my explanation. One girl asked "So are you like...a Lord of the Rings buff?"
"Um," I replied, "I read them in middle school..."
Soooooo that will be our guests' only impression of me.

Putting my Heart on the Line

There are these two guys who live in my apartment complex who are really ridiculously sweet and super quiet.
So I like to torment them as much as I can.
And I mean that in the nicest way possible, of course, because I think the meanest thing I have ever said to anyone was when Amanda Jarowski asked me if I liked her and I said "no" way back in the seventh grade.
But it would probably be better if you took my word for it and didn't check that story with my siblings.
Anyway, they are Johnny and Adam. I just enjoy doing things like grabbing Johnny's hand when he tries to high-five me and saying "we can't keep seeing each other in passing like this. I'll go mad," in a very serious voice.
They don't know me well enough/are too ridiculously sweet and quiet to laugh at me or give me disgusted looks or call my bluff.
Tonight, I went to Adam's apartment for dinner group. He had made these really freakin delicious south American things...papoosas?
Hmm, ok, I googled it and all I'm getting are pictures of native americans with babies strapped to their backs. It sounds something like that, anyway.
It's a homemade tortilla with beans and cheese inside it and you dip it in salsa. Also, he had made hot chocolate. Here is how our conversation went.

Me: Adam, these are really good.
Adam: (head bob, smile)
Me: Adam, you are my hero for making these.
Adam: (goes into the kitchen)
Me: Adam today was a long, hard day. I took a test and walked home in the cold February dark and came HERE, where I am eating these...these delicious things and using your mug for this fantastic hot chocolate. This is the greatest thing of my life.
Adam: (head bob, smile) I'm glad you liked it.
Me: Adam. Adam, no. That is an understatement. (Stare at Adam until he looks back. Chest pound with one fist) You are my hero. I want to hug you or date you right now.
Adam: (nervous smile)
Me: You are my hero FOREVER...okay. okay, bye. BYE ADAM, THANKS FOR DINNER.

The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Pants

I went snowshoeing on Saturday.
It was me, buddy Ian, the guy who I went to the dance with, a tiny blonde girl, and an Austrian girl.
As we all know, every Austrian is like unto Arnold Schwarzenegger. Wow, who knew that word was in spell check?
It was a fun time. We went for maybe a mile--the whole experience made me miss Minnesota a lot--and then from behind us we heard the Austrian girl say "You guys, she's freezing."
We all turned around to see the small blonde girl shivering violently.
Austrian girl assessed the situation authoritatively.
"Here," she said, "Take my pants."
And Austrian girl dropped her pants right there on the mountain in the 16 degree weather.
I told you. Arnold blood.
"No, seriously--" said the blonde girl, but she was really shaking and resistance was futile at this point because it had taken Austrian girl all of three seconds to get her pants off and offer them to blonde girl.
Blonde girl went behind a hill to do the pant exchange, Austrian girl began marching in circles to keep her legs warm, and the guys dutifully looked away. Actually one of them did, Ian didn't know any of this was going on. He was taking pictures of the mountain.
A few minutes passed.
"Do you need help?" I asked the hill nervously.
"Yes," came blonde girl's voice.
I snowshoed my way over. She was pretty miserable and having a lot of trouble what with the not being able to move her fingers and all. So I helped out, and she leaned on me. I was totally at a loss for what to do at this point, because she was kind of doing the fetal position into my shoulder, so I awkwardly put my arm around her and made really stupid jokes, like
Ha ha, I bet this isn't what you were expecting!
and
You can just put the wet clothes on my arm, I'm like...a dresser. The furniture, not like a career...a professional dresser...
So she was probably wishing she had someone else with her.
Once the pants were on, the guys returned (Ian had been brought up to date) and then the real clothing swap began. Her socks were wet, so she put on a pair of the guy's socks, her new Austrian pants were too big for her tiny blonde self so she wore my belt, she wore the Austrian girl's hoodie (over her coat), and another one of the guy's gloves.
It was a team effort.
So when we made our way back down the mountain it was me struggling to keep my beltless pants up, Austrian girl with no pants at all, tiny blonde girl looking like a hunchback with approx. eight hoods trapped under her outer hoodie, guy #1 hopping the whole way to keep his sockless feet out of the snow, and Ian taking pictures.

Fight Dance

The dance was last night, and it was fun. My date and I didn't know how to dance, and since a lot of dudes at BYU DO know how to dance, he was sort of stressed about it. Some of our time was spent like this:

SLOW SONG.
Boy: Ahh! Ahh! What do we do? I know how to sway. We can sway. But what else? What do people do? Everyone is just swaying or standing!
Me: We can spin!
Boy: But then you end up holding my hand the wrong way!
Me: No, check it out, I'll spin back. (Spin and spin back)
Boy: Oh heck yes this is awesome.

SLOW SONG 2:
Boy: We need a new move. We only have two moves right now. HEY BRAD, HOW DO WE DANCE?
Brad: (from a distance) Two-step!
Boy: Two-step? Is that what we've been doing? Is THIS a two step? Maybe they count differently in dancing and this is like a six step or something. Hey! Let's try this, I'm going to step forward and you step backward and then we'll do the opposite!

SLOW SONG 3:
Boy: All these slow songs...(We are holding right hands) I know, let's use our handholding to punch people.


So we did. It went sway-sway PUNCH, sway-sway PUNCH, and it was pretty hilarious although some of our friends and their dates didn't realize we were intentionally punching them, they just thought we were bad dancers.

Also at the end of the night, my friend said "Hey let's walk the guys home since this was a ladies choice event," and her date put his arm in her arm and said "Okay, I live in THE PARKING GARAGE," in a super terrifying voice. Maybe you had to be there but I think I laughed for five minutes then and giggled about it for hours later.

Russian Soup and Dreams

Since this is supposed to be a blog about my awkward vegetarianism, here is a brief update.
I'm in a vegetarian dinner group now! It's super dysfunctional. But anyway it's supposed to be a veg/foreign dinner group, so as the perfect compromise the other day I made borsch, which is this Russian soup that's basically every root vegetable known to man in various forms of shredded/chopped. And it's bright red because of beets. Way awesome. I listened to Leingrad, which is this delightful shouty Russian music as I made it.

And last night I had a dream that I was being chased by the police, but the police force consisted of three really old hispanic ladies on a white bicycle built for three, and they were trying to shoot me with bows n' arrows.

Supersonic

I have a supersonic memory. If we have ever had a conversation, I can probably remember a lot of what we said word for word. If I was feeling uncomfortable or if I had a crush on you, I could probably remember the whole thing word for word. That's why I remember almost all of what I just said today during a summer job interview. It was over skype, and it was early in the morning, but those are the only excuses I have. Here are some gems:

"I would do the slow turn around and give them my get to know you smile. Everyone has a get to know you smile."

"It's like the geico guy says...I can't remember what he says...something something, car insurance."

"I would break up their friendship. Not in a bad way. Just like they used to do in elementary school. You know what I'm talkin bout?"

"I went caving one time. We went in the cave and I was just like whaaaat!"

"We did cabin things at the cabin for like a week. Chill."

"If the zombie apocalypse comes I can get at least two miles away."

"I think people think that I'm trying to make a statement with my hair but really I just had some scissors one time.."

"Megan and Tess and I were be eff effs sixth through twelfth grade."

"I can get behind those values."


The interview was 45 minutes long and it was all just me rambling on and on.

Public Relations

I have a public relations job, and I write a lot of stories. Mostly I interview a professor when they do something cool and write a story about it. I then email them a draft of the story for edits. Sometimes they just say "looks good," and sometimes they rewrite the entire thing in their image.
I'm not saying that I'm a pro at public relations or anything, but I am better at it than some of the professors.
For example. In a recent story about immigration, I had quoted a professor as saying "Be your brother's keeper. We all share a responsibility for human rights."

When I got the edited story back, the quote had been changed to the following:

“Be your brother’s keeper. We all share a responsibility as duty-bearers for integration with human rights under a localized culturally sensitive program.”

Wearing the Pants

I asked a dude out on a date for the first time today, 'cause there's a ladies (ladiezzzz) choice dance this weekend. It went like this:

ME: Hi Jason. Has anyone asked you to the dance yet?
JASON: Nope.
ME: Oh. Can I ask you to the dance?
JASON: Yeah.
ME: Jason do you want to go to the dance with me?
JASON: Yeah.

I think there was some potential there. I could have said "oh" and walked away after asking if anyone had asked him yet, or he could have said "no" to the big Q after giving me permission to ask him. Wasted comedic potential. I tell you.

CONTINUED:
JASON: I can't really dance though.
ME: Oh good, me neither. I just wave my arms.
JASON: Ok. I'll practice.

It's looking good. We'll be the octopus arm-waving couple.

Cake Batter

I had the following text conversation with my home teachers today:

HT: Hey we're going to come over today and bring treatsies. Ok?
ME: Yep. Treatsies are always welcome.
HT: Is it cool if we bring a big bowl of cake batter and spoons or would that be nast?

Yes it would be. Their compromise was bringing over separate cups of cake batter. Unfortunately, they were frozen solid. He didn't explain why, and I didn't ask...

Popular

The problem with living in Monticello on the ground floor in January is that errybody wants to look at our apartment for research in their housing hunt. This week we have had four different girls just show up and expect full clearance in our apartment.

I mean we let them see the whole thing. It's just awkward for everybody. Here's how my conversation with this girl went today:

GIRL: So...can I look around?
ME: Um. Yes.
GIRL: Kitchen?
ME: Yep.
GIRL: Ooh, a piano? Whose is that?
ME: (silent while I try to figure out whether she would know any of my roommates by name)
...one of my roommates'.
GIRL: Oh. So can I...?
ME: Yeah...
I walked back into my room. We looked it over for a minute. It is a mess.
ME: Yep. Those are my bras.
GIRL: Ha ha! Well thanks! Maybe I will see you around!
ME: Yep.

So I'm a crappy tour guide, but that responsibility was not mentioned in my contract.
Also during the time it took me to write this two girls came to look at our apartment together. This is not the parade of homes, guys. We really need to clean the bathroom.

Bussing It

I took the bus home from Salt Lake today. Not much happened; I think the most interesting thing was a giant bearded man with a backpack that was approximately the same size as him who frantically stroked his beard for the whole ride, and a gothic looking lady who seriously seemed to have made herself a wig out of red and black yarn. I mean it, they weren't dreds. I'm pretty sure she made herself a red and black yarn wig. It was heaped high upon her head.

The problem with punks and goths and similar rebels in appearance is that they give you super dirty looks if they catch you looking at them. But seriously I just want to sit down and explain look, I'm not giving you a disapproving stare because you've rejected society's dress and appearance norms, I just legitimately want to know how you got that piece of metal through that piece of your body/what that tattoo is/whether or not you are wearing a homemade yarn-wig. I feel like they've created an impossible scenario for themselves.

Anyway I thought I would share two moments from one of my more entertaining slc to provo bus moments. It was the last late night bus..

1. Before the bus pulls out of the first stop, the driver stands in the aisle and grandly looks over our heads. A man who is missing many of his front teeth says "This is my favorite part of the night," looking expectant. The driver, a short, grey-haired man with a nice mustache, grabs the handrails above his head on either side of the aisle and pulls himself up. Wordlessly, he proceeds to do some gymnastics. He flips forward, he flips backward, he holds himself up there with his legs extended in front of him, he goes on for about five minutes. When he drops back to the ground, all of us commuters give him a hearty round of applause. Not letting this get to his head, he wordlessly climbs into his chair and starts the engine.

2. The bus stops, and a girl in a medieval dress, cloak and hood, robin hood boots, and a giant leather backpack steps on. She's holding a staff that's maybe six feet long and strapped to her giant leather backpack is a full-length sword in a sheath. She is, as they say, the real deal. Our gymnast bus driver does not seem surprised or curious but he does sternly tell her that she can't come on the bus with that, and weapons must be kept in the bike rack on the front of the bus. The girl disappeared for a moment and reappeared minus the staff. She was then allowed to ride the bus, despite still having her trusty sword.

Survival Dance

On Saturday night, my friend and I went clubbing in Salt Lake.
So I've been clubbing a few times. I'm not one of those kids who "GOES TO CLUBS." But I'd been a couple of times and I thought I had a pretty good idea of what I was in for.
lol nope
I will try to give you a mental image. So there's a sub-par DJ who keeps yelling things and playing bad remixes and every once in a while he cuts the sound because he expects everyone to sing the parts, usually words like DA DA DAAAA or BOOM BOOM POW or something equally singalongable, so there would just be sort of this confused noise and then he would turn the music back on.
It was pretty dark, so there were a lot of glowsticks being flung, and everyone was breaking them and splattering each other. Also, whatever is in those things is not meant for the human eye. It stung. So hard.
Also, there was a ton of paint. They handed out supersoakers full of some kind of glowy paint (which also stung in your eyes) and so everyone was getting shot all to pieces.
Most importantly, there were SO MANY PEOPLE. I probably spent like a third of the time in there completely unable to move my body. At all. Not even a little bit. And it's not like these people were standing still and orderly. Everyone was trying to get somewhere else, or grind on you, or they were jumping or throwing elbows, etc. The jumping was especially scary because if you found yourself in a group of people who were all jumping, you had better start jumping too unless you wanted a broken foot or an elbow to the nose. SURVIVAL JUMP. That was also potentially the sweatiest place I've ever been and most of the sweat on me wasn't mine.

So in short, super loud, crappy music, constant paint dripping down your face and clothes and running into your eyes, constant danger of being mauled by some freakdancer, horndogs who keep trying to grab your hips, slimy with paint and everyone else's sweat, floor sticky with paint and crunchy with broken bits of supersoakers. I had a total of three trains of thought during my club experience:

1. THIS IS GROSS
2. THIS IS HILARIOUS
3. I COULD PROBABLY DIE IN HERE AND IT WOULD TAKE LIKE FOUR HOURS FOR ANYONE TO NOTICE

We eventually made it out (although some guy grabbed me and started carrying me back in. I just sort of went into elbow-throwing mode to get away from him. It wasn't really a place where you could have a reasonable conversation) and then we all laughed like loons for a while.
"Susannah is never, ever doing that again" announced my friend Susannah.
I dunno, I might go back if the mood is right.

Speaking of Awkward

On my French test, there was a fill in the blank question that said "Donne les bises avec les ___"
Or some correct spelling of that sentence.
It was our unit on body parts, and I blanked. I didn't know what "bise" was. I read it again. "Give the plural somethings with the blank" said my American brain.
Bises=Smiles? I thought. Give smiles with your teeth?
It seemed plausible. French is a weird language, after all.

Later on, as I went over the test with my French teacher, I asked him why that question was marked wrong. He told me the right answer was "lips," not teeth.
"Isn't that a matter of personal preference?" I asked quizzically, indignant that I had to smile with my lips and not my teeth.

He stared at me with a funny look in his eye for a good twenty seconds before he revealed what I had just said.
"You know that 'bise' means kiss, right?"

Well now I do.

Awkward Day

I can't put all of my awkward conversations here because they're too awkward.
But. I did sort of invite the guy I liked and his girlfriend to come watch our pet snake eat a baby mouse before they made dinner together. And I accidentally told my boss she belonged in a nursing home. And I asked my neighbor if he was going into his apartment as he stepped over the threshold into his apartment. And there was a girl in my class named Brooke and I called her "body of water." The end.

Tunneling

Yesterday Emily and Ian and I went in a super sketchy hidden tunnel under the church.
It was pretty much made of dirt and dust and rusty nails. Also everything smelled like mold and you couldn't stand up. It was way awesome.
Also it was a treasure trove of things! I found a pipe, and a sock, and a hanger, and a bottle cap from some soda company that went out of business in 1955. That is all.

Citrus

My good buddy Ian went to visit his family in AZ and returned to Utah with the entire back of his car full of citrus fruit from his parent's fruit farm or wherever you can acquire thousands of fruits for free these days. We're talking like eight large boxes of oranges, tangelos, tangerines, limes, lemons, and grapefruits. He is storing it in our apartment.
WHAT A FOOL
I have eaten an average of seven tangelos a day for three days, is all I'm sayin.