The Good Ol' Days

It'd be like the LA riots, only fueled by boredom rather than pure rage

2012-12-17T13:56:00.001-07:00

I work in an office building shared with other businesses. The company on the floor below us employs a lot of really young people and, at the risk of sounding like an old lady, they can get really loud. They blast music, and have ping pong battles so intense I find their ping pong balls in the stairwell. How could a table tennis game get so robust that balls fly into the stairwell without anyone noticing? It's like a raging frat party all the time down there.

These people think they own the building. It's entertaining to watch them get on the elevator without tearing their eyes from their phones. Because they assume everyone in existence wants to go to their company they don't even bother checking to see if the button to their floor is lit. Then when we get to my company's lobby they get off, look around, stutter in confusion and get back on the elevator to go down to their floor.

I think it'd be fun to start a turf war. Only I'm not interested in hurting anyone, I prefer methods of passive aggression. I'd like to do drive-bys that consist of riding the elevator down to their floor, and when the elevators open yell really nasty insults like, "Your business model is sub-par!" or, "Your IBITDA is so small you use old 2x4s as ping pong paddles!" and then make my slow get away back up to my floor.

I'd really like to drop a dirty bomb on their floor. Of course, it'd really just be a napkin full of yellow starbursts, 'cause who likes yellow starbursts? Nobody, that's who.

It would be necessary to get into their heads and fully understand what makes them tick. Once I understand the enemy I could more easily put fear into their hearts. To gain access to their office I would simply dress really hipster. Once inside I would switch out their coffee for hot chocolate and change their Wi-Fi settings to block social media sites.

That is how I break them.

As if that's not enough, I would hide their ping pong balls and change all of their Pandora sations to Hanna Montana. Yeah, not even Miley Cyrus but straight Hanna Montana. I'm not proud of this, but sometimes you have to sacrifice your morals in times of war.

My finale would be to strip their office of modern-style chairs in their lounge area. That takes their comfort and art. I would replace them with metal folding chairs spray painted with the name of the closest stake center. That sends a double message; you are only as good as these hard cheap chairs, and I play so dirty I took these chairs from a church, so don't mess with me.

Of course, in the end this might actually make them more productive, but that's a risk I'm willing to take.

The lies our parents tell us

2012-11-08T16:03:00.002-07:00

A lot of people have told me I'm gullible and, to be fair, they're not entirely wrong, but I prefer to use the term, "trusting".

The other night I was treating myself to an artichoke for dinner. They have been a special treat in my family that we had ~~on special occasions~~ when they were on sale, or when the boys were off camping. This particular vegetable, though a favorite of mine, has always had a certain feel of risk for me.

Firstly, for those of you who aren't familiar with the delights of artichokes, I'll give you the run down. They are delicious, they bring joy and look like this:

You cook them, either boiled or steamed, and once fully cooked, you peel off a petal and scrape the meat off from the inside of the petal. The absolute best part is the heart. To get to the heart, eat all the leaves until you're left with the choke nestled in the center of the heart. The choke is completely inedible and needs to be scraped out before you can eat the heart.

Sounds weird, I know, but it's fantastic.

The importance of getting all the choke out of the heart before consumption was stressed to me by my parents. So much so, that my mom told me it is poisonous. I made sure to get every whit of choke out, to where it's essence wasn't even left behind because I knew, on pane of death, there could be no mistakes.

This I believed for a long time and it settled into my subconscious until a couple days ago. I was scraping out the choke, making sure to get every bit out. I stopped suddenly, and had a "wait a minute" moment. The choke is not poisonous.

I immediately called my mom to confront her on her lies. I relayed what she had taught me to which she laughed, hard. "I wouldn't lie to you like that." She proclaimed. Luckily, I called prepared with a backup memory to prove she was wrong, she would lie to me like that.

When I was young, perhaps 5 or 6, she was driving me up to Salt Lake to visit my grandma. As we drove north on I-15 there is a billboard to the right that has a boat straight through the center of it. If you live in Utah, I'm sure you know the one I'm referring to.

I was staring out the window, lost in my own little world when she captured my attention, "Look, Bre. See that boat up there?" Peering up I saw a boat stuck in the billboard, naturally I was amazed as it's not an everyday sight.

"How'd it get there?" I asked.

"I'll tell you." She replied. And she did.

My mother spoke at length of a flood that had filled the valley. She painted a picture of a devastating flood that suddenly swept in, causing a lot of damage and covering everything. The water was high, she told me, so high that it reached all the way up to the billboards. Then, a boat came floating along and crashed right into the center of billboard, getting stuck there. I asked why it was still up there, and she told me that when the water level went back down it was so difficult to remove it, that they just left it there. Seemed legit.

From then on out every time I passed that billboard I would look around and picture enrything around me underwater. Debris floating, survivors clinging to flotsam for dear life. I commiserated on what a tragedy it was, and rejoiced in the fortitude of Utahans to rebuild the community to what is was around me.

As I got older and learned to read, I discovered that the billboard happened to be for a boat dealership. I laughed at how coincidental it was that of all the billboards this boat should get stuck in, that is should be for a billboard selling boats. At least this disaster worked for the billboard; it was the perfect advertisement. Later on I wondered if this was really why the boat was left in.

Getting older I would tell friends all about the horrific flood in Utah, showing them how high the water was based off the height of that boat. Ya know, to keep the memory alive. Most people didn't talk about the flood, but I did.

Later on I began to take note of where the boat actually punctured the billboard; it was blasted outwards on both sides. That seemed fishy to me, shouldn't one side be pushed in, and the other side bend out? Please note that, while I don't know exactly how old I was, it was old enough to logistically put together the effect a boat might have on a billboard. Basically, I'm saying that when I figured this out, I was old enough to know better.

I told this to my mom and it just made her laugh harder. She had no memory of her deceit, and pronounced that she would never lie to her child like that.

But I know better. I. Know.

Were any of you fed creative, ahem, stories by your parents, only to realize later that they were just exploiting your childlike innocence for fun?

If you're so inclined, here are some additional stories on how awesome my mom is.

Judgemental Facebook Friend Suggester

2012-08-06T13:04:00.001-06:00

I think we're all familiar with Facebook's "People You May Know" feature, yes? If not, you must not have Facebook but, to explain, this feature will suggest friends for you to add. Every time I see these recommendations I get the feeling that Facebook is judging me. This is what I feel the friend suggester would be saying if it could talk.

"Hey there, Bre. I see that you and Jill McJillerson have 40 friends in common. 40! It seems to me that you obviously know her. So...why aren't you friends with Jill? What happened between you two that 40 friends in common can't fix, hmmm?"

"Bre. I suggested you add Jill McJillerson two weeks ago. TWO WEEKS AGO. I can't help but wonder why you haven't added her, and I'm forced to recommend her friendship again. Clearly, you're acquainted."

"You do know it's only Facebook friends, right? I'm not suggesting BFFs or anything!"

"Ok, I'm starting to get the idea that you don't want to add Jill. Though she's pretty cool, just sayin'. Last chance for you to add her. I'll leave it up a while and let you mull it over. Also, I'll suggest her in a couple weeks."

"While you're thinking about Jill, might I suggest Bob McBobster? Ok, hear me out. I know he's a coworker, I know this coworker loves to eavesdrop on your conversations, and his creep factor is a 9 out of 10, but look at his profile pic. It's a baby! A chubby little baby! Who doesn't love babies? Anyone with a baby as a profile picture couldn't be bad."

"I see you didn't add Bob. I didn't want to say this, but it's apparent you hate babies."

"Fine, Bob is a no go. How about these other coworkers? I know you don't actually work in the same department, and you've never actually met, but it's probably not weird to add someone just because you work at the same company. Friend away!"

"All right, I concede- no coworkers. You're really making this difficult for me. Here are a couple people you knew from high school. I'm pretty sure you had science with Jose McJosef and U.S. History with Gabe McGabin. There's nothing like reconnecting with the past!"

"Ok, you're being a real jerk, Bre. I recall you were lab partners with Jose, and I know for a fact you had a crush on Gabe, so why won't you just add them? What's the problem, you don't even have to talk to them, just add them!"

"I realize you haven't kept in contact with them in the last 9 years, and I will admit if you wanted to be friends you would have added them by now, but Mark McMarcus was the bleeping CLASS PRESIDENT! How can you not want the frickin' Class President on your friends list?!"

"Hey there Bre. You may have noticed I've been absent for a while; I've been replaced with ads encouraging young mothers to go to college. I think I needed this time to calm down, relax and regroup. I've been going about this the wrong way, and am trying something new. Bre, please meet Sanjeep McSanjay. You do not know him, have zero friends in common and live in a completely different country. Better yet, you don't even speak the same language, and I think he's looking for someone to buy him a plane ticket to America. Since you have no desire to reconnect with old friends, I think it's best that you make new ones."

"Well up yours too!"

The Trainer

2012-07-23T11:56:00.001-06:00

Over the last couple years I have...let myself go, as they say. With perfectly orchestrated laziness I have ignored physical activity and embraced a diet shared only by pro-football players and amateur sumo wrestlers.

I can't tell you what urged me to change, 'cause I'm not so sure myself. It's not like I woke up one morning thinking, "Well shoot, I should probably lay off ice cream a lil bit." I just started to make wiser choices, and got my lazy bones off the couch and put some miles on my treadmill. I have lost 45 lbs. so far, and yes, I am bragging.

My employer decided to offer free Gold’s Gym passes to employees, and I began to go to the gym with my mom. We were pretty clueless, but at least we were making an effort. Then I got a trainer. He even offered to work my mom out for free. I'm not sure if it was kindness or pity, because the two of us were puttering around the gym trying to figure out how the machines worked. I imagine we looked like a cavemen might, when trying to figure out modern conveniences.

Said trainer is a pretty cool guy; all smiles and jokes, and to cheer me up when I'm frustrated likes to sing, "I am a child of God, pop-pop-popping on the apricot tree." However bad he is at remembering primary songs, he still manages to be incredibly intimidating all the same. Super tall, super lean and with a thick Ghana accent, he gets me to push myself simply because I don't want to experience his bad side.

Most people can pick up on physical cues, e.g., She looks as though vomiting is imminent, therefore perhaps she is not capable of this level of exercise. Not this guy, if he said I have to do 30 pushups then I will be doing 30 come hell or high water. He will give me a number of reps to accomplish, and will count as I go. Nevertheless, if I start to slow down or, heaven forbid, stop mid-rep he will start to count backward. It's incredibly disparaging to be so burned out that you can't push anymore, and to hear him counting backward, tacking on more reps the longer you wait. Listening to 16, 17, 18, 17, 16, is very disheartening.

The first time he worked out me and my mom together I was hoping he would take it easy on my mom. Partly because I didn't want him to kill her, but mostly I didn't want him to scare her off. Instead, he put punching bags in a circle, weights in our hands and told us to punch the bags with everything we've got. Then, when he would say "left" or "right" then we would run around the punching bag circle in that direction. He then told us that he was going to chase us. I have never been more legitimately terrified, while knowing nothing bad would actually happen. But I did know that I did not want to be caught; I had no idea what being caught entailed.

When we were running to the right I knew I was ok because my mom was behind me, and he couldn't get me. But when we were running to the left I was begging my mom to go faster 'cause I was emphatically uninterested in finding out what might happen should he catch us. And as we sprinted (read: lightly jogged) I would hear taunting from behind, "I see your ponytail. I'm going to get your ponytail!" Most people would imagine their ponytail being tugged, but mine went immediately straight to scalping, and forevermore seeing my ponytail hung on the gym wall as a trophy.

I used to think the only way I was ever going to run was if I was chased by a cheetah. Now, I can say the only way I'm going to run is if I'm chased by a cheetah, or my personal trainer. I'm not sure which scares me more.

A story of two gals and 14 donuts

2012-03-02T15:16:00.004-07:00

Admittedly, I have fallen off the blogger wagon. I feel like a slacker, and the thought of having to play catch up only fueled my procrastination. So, I'm not going to recap the last couple months. Let's be honest; No one likes/reads those massive long blog posts that rehash everything you did in the months since you last blogged.

That is my gift to you. Now it's time for a story.

Once upon a time...today, more specifically...My coworker and I decided it was important to support local businesses. Of course, the best way to do this is to make a purchase.

Basically, we wanted donuts.

We drove to Krispy Kreme all a-twitter with the excitement of the sugary delights to come. Once inside we were assaulted by the sickly sweet smell of fried dough and dripping fresh frosting. It was little overwhelming and my memory got a little hazy after that.

We ordered a dozen glazed donuts. To recap, there were only two of us, and we ordered a dozen. Why would we do that?  Couldn't tell you; like I said my memory is fuzzy and filled with the cloud of a contact sugar high.

As we were about to leave, a KK employee asked if we would like a sample. This seemed pretty silly to me because we already bought a dozen, it's not like they needed to sell us on their product. We had already committed ourselves to a donut binge. The absolute last thing we needed was another donut.

Naturally, I said I would love a sample. Again, I have zero reasoning behind this, and am convinced Krispy Kreme slips mild narcotics into the air systems.

Said sample was so fresh it burned my lip as I bit into it. I have never been so OK with being burned as I was in that moment.  After polishing the donut off in the car regret began to sink in as the high faded. I started to realize what had transpired; we purchased a dozen donuts, received 14 and there were still 12 left. I was already sick off the first one, and the thought of eating any more made my stomach churn.

After I finished the second donut my self-esteem took a plummet, and I began to question every decision I had made past 10:00 AM.  Luckily, common sense began to make its way back into my sugar-addled brain.

And that's the story of why a dozen of my coworkers got a donut, courtesy of my sugar-instigated fugue state.

The End.

Dark Days for Brighton

2011-12-02T15:57:00.002-07:00

Brighton is afraid of everything except ducks, and recently he's developed a new fear.

Jordan and I aren't talented in a vast array of things, but come Sunday morning I turn into Gordon Ramsey, Jordan morphs into Wolfgang Puck, and together we make the best Sunday breakfast you've ever seen. Unfortunately, Brighton is afraid of our cooking. To be clear, he's not afraid of the food we make, but just the act of us cooking sends him over the edge.

At first he would cower in the bedroom shaking uncontrollably, yet was easily lured out with bribes of bacon. And really, who can't be lured by bacon? Then he wouldn't come out for any sort of deliciously cured meats. It continued to escalate to the point that he began seeking a safer sanctuary than the mere corner of the bed.

One morning we were creating the best breakfast sandwiches this side of the Mississip when we heard panicked little yips coming from the back half of the condo. Jordan went to investigate while I joked that he was probably taking refuge in the tub.

Turns out he was.

I didn't get a picture, and while I still have not learned how to use Photoshop I have rendered a likeness of this occurence:

What a little tub he found! His instincts would have served him better in a tornado rather than the great cook-off of November 2011.

Next week we closed the shower curtain so he couldn't take a kamikaze dive into the porcelain, but when a foxhole is unavailable I'll not be the one to say Brighton doesn't employ ingenuity. Apparently he thought higher ground was a better option:

Poor dearie. A bit of a drama queen too, if you ask me.

We've taken to simply shutting the bathroom door while we cook because, while I'm all for providing him the security of our bathroom amenities, he can get onto the toilet but is also scared of jumping down again. I assure you; the irony of him driven up there by fear and then stuck also by fear is not lost on me.

But while I'm on the subject of Brighton's yellow belly being where it shouldn't be, he's made a regular hobby of climbing onto the table. I suppose he sees us eating there and assumes that's the magical tablet where food appears. He's not all together wrong...

Naturally, he can't get down from there on his own either. Now, whenever I hear the stricken barks of a boy in need I know he's either stuck in the tub, on the table, or the toilet.

The World's Most Awkward Conversation

2011-10-26T16:13:00.000-06:00

At the Subway Drive Thru window:

Employee: "Hi, how're you?"

Bre: "Uh, good. And you?"

Employee: "Your total is $8.00"

I hand him my card, he stops in the middle of taking it from me.

Employee: "Oh, I'm good. Having a good day."

Bre: "Well, good. That's good."

"Employee: "Here's your sandwich."

Bre: "Thank you."

Employee: "And this is your drink."

Bre: "Thank you."

Employee: "Have a good night!"

Bre: "Thanks, you too."

And I prepare to pull out. Suddenly, he leans out the window.

Employee: "Looks like it's going to rain."

Bre: "Oh...really?"

Employee: "Just look at those clouds, I think it's going to rain. It's dark."

Bre: "Uh huh....Ok, bye!"

Employee: "See ya!"

And then I high-tailed it out of there.

Redemption Is MINE!

2011-10-11T15:37:00.000-06:00

Today me and a bunch of coworkers went back to the Habitat for Humanity house for more team-building and volunteer work. I was not looking forward to it after my last experience a mere three weeks ago. If you're confused and would like to not be, you can read about it by clicking...here.

Now that you're all caught up, and fully understand why I was dreading a return visit, I'll continue with my story.

I spent some time trying to think of a good reason not to go, but couldn't find anything reasonable or believable and found myself once more on the build site. I felt it was important to prove myself not completely incompetent and got right to work. I was mainly able to do so because all there was to do at first was haul wood from the living room to outside, and any idiot could do that.

Then I got my assignment, and I'm not even sure how it landed in my lap, not if I would be able to pull it off. I was told to build the windowsills and moldings. Sounds complicated? That's because it was. I almost laughed when the foreman was giving instructions 'cause I couldn't believe he really expected me to be able to accomplish such a task. It was a process with many many steps, involving four different kinds of saws and a nail gun. And they let me play with power tools, even after the last time.

I had to measure the window, adding a bit for the lip, then cut a board to fit, saw around the lip, and nail the sucker down. Then measure, cut and nail in the molding. Considering I couldn't even measure right last time this is extra impressive. I did six windows in total in the four hours that we were there.

I am freaking Bob Villa. I'm considering starting my own home improvement show, with the only topic of building window sills and molding, 'cause that's all that I can do. But I can make the crap out of them. I am now convinced I should go into construction because I fancy myself a full on carpenter.

I should have taken a picture so you could really get the full effect, but didn't want to look like a dork taking a picture of (the world's best-fashioned) window sills. Though, I suppose it's no less dorky to blog about making window sills...

It's safe to say I've redeemed myself, and can now show mysefl at Habitat for Humanity. Can, but probably won't. I think I've had my fill this year.

Saturday Night

2011-10-04T15:27:00.003-06:00

Saturday Night
9:00 PM

Jordan: I want come chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.

Bre: Hmmm.

Jordan: So, let's go.

Bre: Really? You have to have it now?

Jordan: Yeah. Let's go to Target.

Bre: OK...Well, how about we just go through the Iceburg drive thru?

Jordan: It tastes better at Target. Why don't you want to go to Target?

Bre: Nothing would make me feel fatter than going to Target at 9:00 at night specifically for ice cream.

Jordan: Well, we could get some underwear too...

Bre: Right, so we'll just look like we need new underwear 'cause we ate so much ice cream we grew out of our current pair? Goin' to Target for ice cream and underwear looks much better.

15 minutes later we're scanning the checkout lines for a cashier that looks like she knows what it's like to get ice cream at 9:00 at night and won't judge us.

Where's The Humanity?

2011-09-20T16:42:00.003-06:00

Today me and a couple coworkers went to volunteer with Habitat for Humanity as a team building exercise. I felt pretty good about it because:

       1. I was still on the clock.
       2. I wasn't at work.
       3. I was doing charity.

I hate to admit, but that is in order with the happiest on the top. I love helping other people, but unfortunately getting a paycheck out ranks that.

Ready to jump in and help out, I then came to the realization that I have zero knowledge on how to do anything regarding building a house. I remembered the time where it took Jordan and I several hours to install an overhead fan in the living room. And when I say "Jordan and I", I really mean Jordan.

Yet, I felt confident there would be a place for me, something I could do to contribute, and possibly learn a skill. Then I found out that we were going to be putting siding on a house. (Excuse me while I blow the sawdust out of my nose...)

Basically the two jobs that were needed and available was to either climb up onto the second story of some very untrustworthy looking scaffolding to nail in the siding, or cut the wooden siding to specific sizes to fit around windows and what not.

I might have made a statement that I would rather die than climb up the rickety scaffolding, which is what probably would have happened had I attempted it. So, I was to find a job while earth-bound. Partnering up with a very nice and patient man, he suggested that I measure and mark the siding boards, and he would cut them.

Sure.

I tried to make the first measurement, while he hung over my shoulder most apprehensively. The measurement was 44 1/8. When I pointed at a hash mark asked if that was right it must not have been because he suggested that he measure, and I cut.

Sure.

I wanted to giggle that he was actually letting me operate a power saw, but thought that might not instill any more faith in my competency. He instructed me on how to use the saw, and kept saying crazy things like, "Get your fingers away from the blade!". I made my first shaky cut, then stopped, worried that I was doing it wrong. He very patiently reiterated his instructions, and I was on my way. I cut the crap out of that board. But, I don't think I cut it the right length 'cause they sent it back to us saying it was too long. Better too long than too short, I said confidently and we he remeasured. I made another cut- less shaky, more straight and was so proud. But then I heard someone from the scaffolding say, "This board is cut crappy." I offered to let my partner give it a go, but he insisted I try again. Bless his heart. When it came back again still just a hair too short, I told the guy to go ahead and shave the excess off, saying I had faith that this board would be right if he were to cut it. He graciously suggested that he could measure and cut if I would be so kind as to take the cut boards and toss them up to the guys on the scaffolding.

Sure.

I was doing ok with the long pieces that I could just hold up vertically and the scaffolding guys could reach down and grab, but then it took me six tries to toss the smaller boards high enough and accurately enough so the guy on the scaffolding could catch it, without dying at least.

After ~~I messed up every job~~ that I figured it was time for a lengthy water break and to get reacquainted with my kindle. No one was complaining, that was for sure. It's actually reaffirming that yes, I belong at a desk 'cause there is no way I would be able to hack it in construction.

I'm excited that my boss signed us up to go back in a couple weeks.

Because I have nothing better to do but to ramble on and on and on

2011-09-16T15:42:00.003-06:00

Well, folks it's Friday, and pay day to boot. That being said I have about an hour left in the work day and heaven knows I'm desperately trying find ways to fill my time. Preferably things that don't involve working, mostly 'cause I have completely run out of work to do, and am scratching the bottom of the barrel to stay busy.

Naturally, this post will have no point, and make very little sense.

Today I went home on my lunch break. Fridays are Jordan's day off, so I usually try to pop on in and have lunch with him, adorable I know. He called and asked if I was on my way, to which I assured him I was. Then he said, "K, don't freak out." Which are the last words that should be used when trying to keep a person from freaking out. Those words were followed with other words like, "There's something wrong with Bella," and, "allergic reaction," and ended with, "her eyes are swollen."

Luckily I was almost home, and told him I would see him in a minute. Bella was waiting for me at the door, and she looked really pathetic. I'll share, how 'bout that?

Her right eye (the left on the picture) was red and swollen on the upper lid, while the other eye was swollen on the lower lid, and sagging all way down her cheek, exposing the inside of her eye lid. Which, by the way, I had no desire to see. She was shaking uncontrollably and had puked half a dozen times before I got there.

We called and made a vet appt, and I was ready to call work and tell them that I was not coming back in. Then right before I could, and 15 minutes before her appointment, the swelling started to go down, and her eyes started to look half way normal. Though normal is her case could still be defined as buggy. At least she doesn't look like her transformation to zombie is 25% complete.

The bad news is I still have 50 minutes left to work, and am no more less bored than I was at the beginning of this post.

In other news, I think I sometimes forget to blink...

Thank you, Insomnia

2011-08-29T14:19:00.001-06:00

Last night's bout of insomnia brought forth great treasures. I finally gave up trying to sleep and got out of bed and did the dishes. Naturally you're thinking, why weren't they done before you went to bed anyway? I would tell you that Sundays are incredibly lazy days, as God intended. He even took a rest on that day. I'd probably also tell you mind your own business.

Brighton even came to keep me company, but really he probably thought his chances of getting a treat were better if he spent time with the person in the kitchen, rather than the one that was in bed. He was right; for his loyalty I gave him a treat of dried yams. If I have to be on a diet then so does he. I emptied the dishwasher, filled it again and wiped the kitchen counters down to an impressive sheen and made Jell-O with mandarin oranges. 'Cause... well, it's yummy and it would provide me with a snack on the morrow. No matter how old I get I still feel like I need an after-school snack.

Then I took enough Melatonin to make a cow pass out and went back to bed. . . And figured out how to navigate should I be lost in the wilderness without the use of stars, or mossy tree trunks. I can't take full credit since the idea was planted in my head when Jordan and I were watching a movie earlier about a group of men that escaped a POW work camp during WWII and walked from Siberia to India. Which would be like walking from the US west coast to the east coast and back again. They kept sticking a pine cone in the dirt, standing over it with one foot on either side. The movie didn't explain what they were doing, but I had to assume they were navigating.

Because I was lying in bed not sleeping I had time to work out what they were doing. The sun rises in the East, and sets in the West, so in the morning wherever the sun is would be East. Since they were going South and wanted to make sure they weren't meandering in a south-east or south-west direction they stuck a pine cone in the dirt and the shadow stretching behind it would be West. Sticking a foot on either side would represent North and South, the left foot North and the right foot south, if you're facing East that is.

Because I want to ensure you also don't get lost in the wilderness, I drew you a handy diagram. I'm no artist though, so the perspective leaves a lot to be desired, this I realize.

So ~~when~~ if you get lost in the middle of nowhere you can think back to my expert rendering and will be thanking my insomnia. I, however, will be thanking my insomnia a lot sooner when I get off work and have Jell-O waiting for me in the fridge.

How To Survive an Alien Attack

2011-08-18T10:36:00.002-06:00

Recently I have had four very vivid dreams about aliens attacking us. One was scary, the second a coincidence and after the third I was convinced that these dreams were sent to me directly from the aliens themselves. I believe they are testing out their methods of invasion on the human subconscious, to see how we might react when they invade.

Of course, their plan has backfired as now I know all their secrets and am fully prepared for an attack. Because I care deeply about the human race, and its subsequent survival, I will share with you how to survive when the aliens come.

When you see the giant mother ship your first intinct is to either stop and stare, or freak out. Neither of these will help you; they will send out their fighter jets lickity split, and those buggers are fast ya'll. So gather your loved ones and make it to a safe place quickly. You're going to want to get home, and I can't blame you 'cause that was what I wanted as well. But that's what they want you to do. They line their fighter jets up and down the streets and fire directly into the houses, knowing that's where people seek cover in. This isn't so bad because they haven't figured out bombs yet, they just shoot large egg-shaped metal chunks, and are essentially punching holes into houses. To outsmart them all you have to do is lay in your backyard, out in the open. They don't expect that, and don't look for you there. If you can build an underground bunker, all the better.

If you don't have a backyard and live in condos or apartments then you're going to have a much different experience. They let groups of aliens off the ship to go through the apartments and clear them out manually. You're probably thinking this sounds much worse, but while scary as all get out, you have a pretty good shot at coming through, and I'll tell you why. They don't use firearms, they use swords. They also do not fully understand what humans are capable of and are just as scared of us. That is what's going to save you; they hesitate before attacking and very nervous about it. Just make your move quickly, attack first and you'll be A-OK 'cause they die pretty easily. I recommend keeping your own sword by the door of your house to be safe and prepared.

While lacking firearms and missiles, they do employ fireballs. So have a lot of rootbeer on hand 'cause I learned from one dream that in a pinch rootbeer works great to put out fires, and you can shake it up so when opened the pressurized rootbeer will shoot up to get the higher flames you can't reach.

And the last point to remember is not to hate the individual alien, they are just following orders, and some of them are good chaps. While they don't successfully take over Earth because we have the best military and were simply no match, some aliens stay behind to live amongst the humans 'cause we are that awesome.

I hope my tutorial has helped, and in the future you're able to survive the alien onslaught.

This guy already has a head start in defeating the alien race. Way to go, comrade!

ZOO!

2011-08-08T13:58:00.000-06:00

Sweet sassy molassy! I haven't posted in a while, and I have a legitimate and valid excuse for this.

It's called laziness and procrastination.

A couple weeks ago my family and I, which includes my parents, siblings, and their kids, went to the zoo. We had a grand ol' time. I have been to the zoo a bunch, and for some reason it never gets old to me.

After the first exhibit I sat down on a bench waiting for the rest of the family as they gathered the kids up to move on. A guy came out of the building I was sitting in front of and I thought to myself, "That guy looks like David Boreanaz! Wait, that is David Boreanaz!"

I watched him walk away before commencing my freak out. I ran up to my sister and latched onto her arm and tried to use my best inside voice so David couldn't hear me talking about him, and told my sister that David Boreanaz was right over there. I told my mom and she started to say how cute he is, but then noticed my dad standing right there and instead discreetly waggled her eyebrows at me. Nice.

We pretty much followed behind him as we moved from exhibit to exhibit, and I tried not to stare. I didn't want to go bug him since he was trying to have a day off with his family. But, pictures were discreetly taken.

Here's a delightful little tidbit, in Bones his character is known for wearing funny socks all the time. And at the zoo he was wearing crazy stripey ones. Oh, David, you're so silly.

What a California Dreamboat.

Then we met up with my friend, Maggie, who is a zookeeper and she gave us the VIP treatment and brought out animals for us to see and pet.

At the end of the day my mom asked the little kids what their favorite part of the day was, and they said Maggie bringing out the animals. If you asked us big kids, we would say that our favorite part was Maggie telling the kids not in our group that had surrounded us and the animals to go away. David Boreanaz has nothing on us.

Saucy Little Minx

2011-07-18T11:06:00.003-06:00

Someone obviously has daddy issues.

The Impasse

2011-07-15T14:06:00.001-06:00

The other day I came home from work to find that one of the dogs had peed on the bed. This is not usual for them, they are pretty well potty trained and I couldn’t figure out why in the world they would pee right smack dab in the middle of the bed when they knew better. Then Jordan realized what happened...

The cats love to trap the puppies. These kitties of ours know that the dogs prefer not to cross the cats’ path if they can help it, and so will lie strategically where they can cut the dogs off from the rest of the house. For example, a casual sprawl in a doorway won’t let the pup out of the room without engaging the cat first, and apparently the dogs aren’t willing/able/courageous enough to do that. A particular favorite game is to hide under the bed next to the area where the pups climb onto the bed, and slash out a paw at the most opportune moment. We think that the cats imprisoned Bella on the bed until her teeny tiny bladder could no longer hold out.

Bless her miniature heart.

I have photographic evidence of Kea's most favorite game...

That One Time I Beat the System

2011-06-28T16:44:00.000-06:00

For some odd reason I was thinking about when I used to live in Washington. I thought about how I became a major hoarder. Not the kind of hoarder that I would earn me a spot on TLC, but I became a money hoarder. It was remarkable (for me, at least) how much I had in savings.

For those of you who don't know the story (I'll try to be quick about it), when I was 19 me and two friends decided we were going to live outside of Utah in the name of adventure and experiencing life outside of happy valley. Two weeks later I packed whatever I could fit into my little blue Dodge Neon, and with 200 bucks in my back pocket drove to Washington.

I knew going into it that it was only temporary, I would be coming home once my apartment contract was up in six months. Always in the back of my mind was the thought that I would be going home eventually, and consequently a deep paranoia set in that I wouldn't have enough money to make it home.

So, I became a money hoarder. I took frugal to extremes, counting each cent, and wary of spending anything I saved as if my life depended on it. 'Cause I thought it did.

My friend was working at Blockbuster, and they came out with a new program to buy used DVDs, and we hatched a glorious plan. It was a many stepped plan, so I hope I can explain this so it makes sense.

1. We went to the dollar store, where I bought 12 DVDs for $12.

2. Next, we went to Blockbuster, and sold our DVDs. Because Blockbuster had a guarantee that they would not buy a DVD for less than $5 I got $5-$10 for each of my dollar store DVDs.

3. Blockbuster only gave store credit, so I used the store credit to get the most expensive thing they sold that was brand new, which was a DVD box set of the TV show 24 (in its hey day they were expensive). I also had store credit left.

4.Next, I took my brand new box set to Walmart, who was selling it for more than Blockbuster was, and returned it for a hefty gift card. Figuratively hefty, the card actually weighed the same regardless of the amount on the card.

5. Lastly, I bought the box set I was really pining for but was too cheap to buy myself, which was Alias, with Jennifer Gardner. I also got a CD and had money left over on my gift card.

In those days I knew my way around the Walmart return policy like the back of my hand, and knew how to work the system to get what I wanted. Though, nothing quite as elaborate at that. I could liken watching that DVD to the end of Ocean's 11, where they are all watching the Bellagio Fountain.

If Ducks Try To Take Over The World, I Have The Secret Weapon

2011-06-21T11:34:00.003-06:00

Sunday night/Father's Day, Jordan and I went over to his dad's house to watch some home videos of Jordan as a wee young thing. BTW, Jordan in yellow Care Bear pajamas bouncing on the bed, priceless.

We brought the dogs along, for funsies. After we were finished enjoying Jordan's youth, we decided to see what would happen if we put the dogs in the backyard with their two pet ducks.

Brighton is afraid of everything, and I have to admit I was curious how he would react to ducks. I was sure that the ducks would attack Brighton while he cowers in fear.

Turns out the only thing Brighton is not afraid of, are ducks. He tore across that yard like a feral animal I have never seen before and chased those ducks up and down the yard. Those poor ducks were beside themselves with fear. They ran into anything in their path, stumbling like drunken babies, while desperately attempting to flee that Boy.

Turns out, not all ducks fly. Some just...fall. One was so afraid he fell/suicide jumped into the window well. It was quite the thunk as he landed. Perhaps he thought this was the best place for him to ride out the terror. I wish I had taken a picture, but because I didn't, yet wanted you to get the full imagery, I used my limited photo editing skills to provide you a likeness of this event. Only pretend the window well is twice as deep, and dark as the devil's insides. It was nighttime, you see.

I went back inside to take the pups in, and break the news that we may or may not have caused their duck to leap blindly into a deep dark window well. I came back out and the second duck was tittering pathetically and I went to give it some comfort and either I scared it, or Brighton charging back out of the house scared it, but the second one flung itself into a second window well.

To reiterate: two ducks, two window wells.

Jordan played the role our genders dictated and was the one to climb down there (seriously, they were deep) and lifted the ducks out. I was so glad he was the man and I could be the pansy woman fretting on the sidelines, window wells are prime breeding grounds for spiders. I didn't tell Jordan this until after he got out.

The ducks have been saved and are no more worse for the wear, though it's difficult to tell if we caused serious brain damage as ducks are already pretty brainless.

I also came out of this confident that should ducks decide to wage war against humans I would be able to stand behind my brave duck-terrorizer of a dog.

Just A Theory

2011-06-15T15:26:00.002-06:00

Headaches are basically swelling in the brain causing pressure against your skull, right? And what do you do when any part of your body swells? You put ice on it to bring the swelling down, yes? That being the case, wouldn't the perfect solution to a headache be a big fat brain freeze?

So, if you get a headache, eat a sh*t-load of ice cream!

You're welcome, I just cured your headache, and given you a reason to buy a big 'ol carton of your favorite ice cream in the name of medicine.

Note: I am not doctor, though I feel like all it really takes is a skill with Google. I did no research on the matter, and have little desire to. Just like I'm uninterested in hearing if I'm wrong, 'cause you can bet I'm going to be using my next headache as an excuse to enjoy some delicious frozen delights.

If You Could Change One Thing

2011-06-08T09:32:00.004-06:00

What really bothers me is when a girl is posed with the question, "If you could change one thing about your significant other, what would it be?" and the dumb girl says "Absolutely nothing, I love him just the way he is." And she probably finishes off with an annoying overly feminine giggle.

Really? Really? Reeeeeeeeeaaallllllly?

There isn't a single thing you would change about your guy? You wouldn't change him biologically so that he is no longer able to fart? You wouldn't make him suddenly have a hankering for doing the dishes? You wouldn't change his aversion to vacuuming and his love of ball-itching?

I know exactly what I would change about Jordan. I pray that I come across a genie so that I may have three wishes, and all three wishes would be used on this one thing to make sure it works. I love that man and I can deal with any vices or shortcomings, save one. It all comes down to three little words, and my dearest hope that I never have to hear them again.

"Are you for real?"

I'm no mathematician, but I realize that's four words and not three. I said three words because statistically they average to three anyway, as they have been melded and evolved to variations including but not limited to, "Ya'll fer real?", "Ya fer real?" and my least favorite and completely rushed, "Ya fer ra?"

Those words have lost all meaning to me. I can no longer imagine how they might have been used in a normal setting. Jordan responds to nearly everything I say with those words.

"Do you want lasagna for dinner?" "You for real?"

"Don't leave your snot rags lying around, the dogs eat them and shred them up." "Ya'll fer rall?"

"Do you wanna go see a movie?" "Youffer real?"

I feel a little bit like The Incredible Hulk because every time he says it my blood pressure gets higher and higher until Hulk SMASH! I let out all the frustration and take the phrase literally.

"YES, I am "for real", I for really want to go to the movies. When I said I wanted to go to the movies I wasn't just tricking you, I was for real"!

To which he responds, "Are you for real with that?"

Be honest peeps, what would you really change about your snookums?

Enlarged

2011-06-02T10:17:00.001-06:00

I love when a company has to put a little note on their product's packaging to inform us that the photo has been enlarged.

'Cause you know some mofo out there cracked open this bag of cough drops and was pissed to find that it does not contain cough drops the size of a small rodent.

The First Time I Was Pulled Over

2011-06-01T09:19:00.002-06:00

My dad was in charge of teaching all six of us kids to drive, and once we had our learner's permit he would take us to a church parking lot to practice before letting us go out on the road.  We had been to the parking lot several times, and I was getting frustrated that he wouldn't let me take it out on the road to do some real people driving. He wouldn't even let me drive the car home.

Meanwhile, my older brother, Sbrandon, was letting me drive his truck all over the place whenever I went somewhere with him. One time he said I could drive his truck only if I promised to not use the brake. You know, for funsies. We were up in the foothills hiking, and true to my word we tore down the steep hill to our neighborhood. I still wonder how we survived that.

Back to the story...

I could hardly believe my ears when my dad told me to go ahead and make a right out of the parking lot. The neighborhood around this particular church was very suburban and quiet with little traffic, unless you count the kiddies on bikes. Which is probably why he chose the area.

I was ecstatic, I was so cool, I was cruising 'round the hood, lookin' fly, rollin' hot 'cause I am driving!  Then I saw lights flashing behind me. These particular lights were red and blue.

My heart stopped, my entire body went numb and all coherent thought was lost as a jumble of thoughts ran through my head.

My first time legally driving and I was getting pulled over!
My siblings are never going to let me live this down.
What if this means I can't get my license?
Will they take my learner's permit away?
I wasn't even speeding, what did I do wrong?
What do I do? Is there a special procedure for pulling over? What if I pull over wrong, then what?!
Why are there so many kids on bikes? They are clustering around my car!

My dad very calmly talked me through my panic and instructed me to pull over, put it in park and roll my window down. I managed to do so, but was a nervous wreck.

I could hear him approaching, and could see out of the corner of my eye that he was approaching, but was scared to make eye contact with the long arm of the law. I finally turned to look at the officer as he came up to my window. . .

It was my brother.

My oldest brother, Jared, is a Police Officer for San Juan County and was up for something or other, probably training. He got to my parents' house while we were out driving and apparently couldn't resist finding us, and because my dad took us all to the same spot to practice Jared knew exactly where to look.

The posse of little kids riding their bikes got a good show though.  They saw a girl getting pulled over, then said girl call the officer a jerk and lean out the window to hit the officer.

If you're wondering, the kind officer let me keep my learner's permit.

Home Sweet Home

2011-05-31T09:27:00.000-06:00

Our last day in New York was pretty hectic. Our only objective was getting to the airport and getting home. I was dreading the trip to the airport after the trip from the airport to our hotel was so hellish. Ross, master of the subway system, assured us that he had found a better way to the airport, which was quite the relief. Not blaming him in the slightest, but it was still 5 different trains and a buttload of stairs. I was so excited to get to the airport so I could just get on the plane and not move for the next five hours.

Getting to the airport took longer than we anticipated, and when we got to the counter to check our bag in they told us that we were too late checking in. The lady helping us was nice and said she was going to see what she could do for us but said, "I don't want to give you false hope, you don't have a prayer." She took off with Jordan's ID and boarding pass in search of a supervisor. This was stressful 'cause we didn't know what would happen if we didn't make the flight, if we would be able to get the next flight and who knows when the next flight would be. Our flight was boarding, and every minute she was gone I could feel our window closing. She came back and said that she had to get a higher up supervisor, and eventually her supervisor came back saying they will be able to get the bag, and us, on the plane. But they left Jordan's ID elsewhere and had to go track that down.

We hurried through security and to the gate, only to find that the flight was delayed. I was never so happy to for a flight to be delayed.

Then the flight got delayed several more times due to a mechanical problem they were trying to fix. It was supposed to leave at 11:20, and by 1:30 they simply cancelled the flight. We got in line to get onto another flight, and the person that was helping us apparently knew nothing about the original flight being cancelled. Once she figured out the situation she was able to help us get on a later flight, making sure that our bag would go with, but the flight didn't leave until 7:00 pm. We met up with my sister and her husband and they said they were getting on a flight that left at 2:30. Which was interesting that we weren't put on that flight in the first place. So, we got our tickets changed to that earlier flight, making sure she put our bag on that flight and not the first two. I had a stack of tickets that were piling up.

Then an announcement was made over the PA system that they were going to get a whole new plane, and the original flight was uncancelled. So, we had to get our tickets and bag changed right back over to that flight. By this point I had said goodbye to everything in our suitcase 'cause I was sure there was no way it was going to survive all the changes and make it on the right plane. Our new flight was delayed a little bit, which at this point was just par for the course. I didn't let myself believe I was getting on that plane until I was actually in my seat.

When we pulled out I wanted to cheer. I guess that only happens in the movies. That cheer would have been premature though since we spent an hour sitting on the tarmac taxiing along and waiting for our turn on the runway. When it was finally our turn I got a look at the line behind us and there were 8 planes behind us waiting for their turn. I know there were 8 because the guy sitting directly behind me was narrating everything out the window to the person who was sitting next to him. That person was also asleep.

"I see the Delta building, and a person standing on the runway, I see 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 birds behind us. I see the yellow lines on the pavement..." And so forth until we took off and he began to describe the different kinds of clouds he was seeing. No joke.

When we landed I got to hear, "I see the Great Salt Lake, and big mountains topped with salt. Or it's snow or salt, I don't know which."

Ah, but I was so happy to see those salt-covered mountains. More importantly I was overjoyed to see that our bag made it to Utah with us. It had just as hellish an ordeal getting on the plane as we did.

I love going on trips, and I love coming home. Being in crazy different places really makes me appreciate home.

Now, to figure out where I'm going with the flight vouchers Delta gave us for cancelling our flight that ended up being uncancelled...

My Butt & The Bum That Handed It To Me

2011-05-21T07:50:00.002-06:00

I got my butt handed to me by a homeless man.

After spending some time at FAO Schwartz we set off to find a bite to eat before we needed to head to Lion King. We found a delightful little deli just up the street and popped in there for lunch. If you're curious, and I know you are, I got a grilled chicken sammich with avocado. It made my heart sing.

I was out front by myself waiting for the rest of my peoples as they were buying cookies for the road. As I was standing there a homeless man approached me.

"Do you have any change?"

"I don't, I'm sorry." Which was very true.

"Well, you have a credit card, you can go in there and buy me a sandwich." This wasn't even said as a request, it was like it was the obvious solution to the problem of me not having change.

"I'm sorry?" I asked because I both couldn't believe I'd heard right, and because I could barely understand him through his thick mumbly accent.

"You can take your credit card, and go buy me a sandwich."

"I don't think I want to do that, I'm sorry sir."

"But, I'm hungry."

"I'm sorry, sir." Was all I had to say. I began to understand that he wasn't going to leave me alone, and my cavalry wasn't coming out of the deli anytime soon.

"So, where you come from you just let people go hungry?"

I have to admit at this point I was getting pretty defensive and annoyed. "Where I come from, people just have jobs."

"But, what am I supposed to do?"

"You should probably just get a job."

"But what am I supposed to do if people won't hire me?" I wanted to ask how this was my fault, but just shrugged and apologized again.

At this point a swanky dressed man walked up to the deli. The homeless man turned his attention to the newcomer, and asked him to buy him a sandwich. The man shook his head and went into the deli.

The homeless man turned back to me and said, "Rich guy won't buy me a sandwich, what's wrong with you?!"

Does that make sense to anyone else? I just rolled my eyes, "I'm not rich."

Finally as Jordan came out of the deli the man sauntered off to accost more people. Jordan handed me a cookie and as we walked down the street we passed the guy, who was now harassing another woman. I looked at him and pointedly bit into my cookie.

Maybe I am heartless, but I have a hard time giving handouts to people that don't help themselves. I'm more apt to give change to street performers rather than a guy that gives me the 3rd degree about buying him a sandwich. Jordan is a lot kinder and gave his change to anyone that asked, if he had it. If fact, we were at Coldstone and there was a guy that was begging off the line and Jordan told him he didn't have any change, but would give him his change once he paid.

What do you think? Would you have bought the guy a sandwich?

The City That Never Sleeps

2011-05-20T10:15:00.002-06:00

I'm sure you're sick of hearing about my trip. But, I'm just not finished. Semi-colon, parenthesis.

Lion King
Wow, what a show. I have wanted to see this since it first came out, and with seeing a Broadway show on my Bucket List, it was an easy decision to see Lion King.

People have told me how amazing the animals and costumes are, and I've seen previews of them, but seeing it in person absolutely makes a difference. I enjoyed every minute of this, and definitely recommend it.

What I don't recommend is a matinee. It was full of kids, and there was a group of teenagers behind me that were obnoxious. They sang along, kicked my chair, talked loudly and just were teenagers. We encountered a lot of teenage groups seeing sights and it made me think back to myself as a teenager and I acted the exact same way.

Central Park
I absolutely loved Central Park. In a sea of cement, crowds and buildings the park was like heaven. We ended up walking from one side of the park to the other to get to the Museum of Natural History, then through it again, taking a different route, to get back. So we spent a lot of time in the park. I really liked sitting on a bench and just people watching.

There were so many horse drawn carriages. I would have loved to have taken one, but they were really expensive. One guy was so pushy trying to sell us on it that he followed us half a block and kept trying to get us to buy a tour even after we said, "There's no way you can change our minds." I finally had to say that they only way I would go was if he charged us $20, which made him laugh and then he left us alone. That and we walked faster.

There were a ton of statues throughout the park.

Bethesda Fountain

Jordan's French Stuart impression, it's like they're twins. He must have been looking into the sunlight.

Next I'm going to tell a jovial tale of the altercation between myself and a homeless man.