Teenage Dirtbag

At the funeral of my great grandmother, my grandma, Glo, introduced me to one of her friends as her youngest granddaughter. The woman smiled at me and said, "Sixteen and driving?" I narrowed my eyes at Glo and she said, "Tell her Mel." I looked again at the friend and explained, "I am twenty five." A red flush rushed over her face. . . "Oh, I am so sorry!"

One World

Let's end hunger!!

I had a lunch date with my brother this week and we went to a place called The One World Cafe. The whole point of this little place is that it ends hunger, that nobody goes unfed. But how does it do this?

When I walked in I felt like I should be chillin on a lawn chair set a street corner downtown with a guitar in hand and my fuzzy beret on. The gal behind the counter explained how it worked. First of all, there are no set prices. You pay what you think you should or if you got no mula, donate an hour of your time. Second, all the food is organic, not made from a recipe, and you will never eat the same thing twice. Third, they serve you choose your portions so you don't waste food. Fourth, can't pay? There are two buckets you can eat from. . .

While sitting at our elephant encrusted coffee table I felt an inward peace and an inward need to listen to a little Buffalo Soldier. . . Overall, I would say get in there and experience a little granola life at least once. Check out the link.

Golfing for Business or Pleasure?

Last Sunday I was hitting whiffle balls with my family and my bro looked at me rather shocked. I asked him what was up and he told me that we should go golfing. I have never been golfing, just to the driving range and explained that to him. He said that if I could hit a whiffle ball like that, we should definitley go.

Neat story, sure, but what it boils down to is this: He told me that if I was as good on the course as I was at hitting whiffle balls, the man folk would come to my door rapidly, frequently, and continually. So men if you are out there, don't make my brother a liar...I'm home.

Mmm Mmm Good!

Dear Mr. General Mills,

How exactly DO you cram all that graham? I appreciate your willingness to use whole grain for my health and I am enjoying the Batman disc launcher you kindly bestowed upon me. What I guess I am being skiddish about saying is that I love you, you and your cereal. Please don't ever go away.

My taste buds are yours,

Miss No Longer Hungry

Late Night Text Chats. . .

are killing me!

But it spices my life up and who doesn't like spice?

Dumb Girls

Last night my roomies and I got into our hot tub, but it was already being occupied. Three guys and three girls were skanking it out in the warm water. One of the guys, clearly under 22, covered in tatoos and dropping the "F-Bomb" consistently began to make small talk with us. Two of the girls looked at each other, got out, then came back and declared they were leaving. Obviously territorial of these catches, they couldn't take the heat from older women in one piece swimming suits!

The Ol' AZ

My sis and I decided to take a little journey down to Arizona to see my other sis. On the car ride down, a total of 11 hours in the car, about the same amount of words were said. Question: Are we really women? Um, yes, who knows why we didn't chat, our estrogen must have been turned off.

Upon arriving, my sis, Steph, was at a writers group and her husband, Mike wanted to go get something to eat. We rode with him. Why do I make a point in writing that? Because he is paralyzed from the waist down. . .he has a freaking sweet automobile that allows him to drive only using hand controls. . .the door even opens with a ramp with the small push of a button. I felt safer with him than I do most times with my sister, Steph. Technology. . .what a blessing! PS he beat me once at Wii tennis. . .I beat him twice, he has never been beaten. Mwa ha ha.

We took a hike yesterday up to a natural bridge. . .pretty and sweet. So pretty sweet. What happened there was nothing but amusing.

• Steph fell on nothing but sand. . .nobody should be surprised about that.


• I caught a crawdad


• Steph swam in nasty water and smelled like butt the rest of the trip


• Suzi defeated a major fear--funny story but you would have to ask her


• Suz donated a dollar of mine to AZ state parks without my permission. I am such an environmentalist!
  

My Sweet Grandmother

My sweet great grandmother passed away this morning and I am a bit nostalgic and weepy this morning. I kind of wanted to write a bit about her and what she meant to me, so if you are this far and are vomiting in your mouth stop reading now.

Karma lived in Ogden, in the cutest little duplex, the entirety of my life. I remember going over there and helping with puzzles that lay on her coffee table, then pasting them onto cardboard and finding any space on a wall in her cement basement. There must have been over a hundred puzzles hanging on the walls. Then we would turn on the record player and put I Don't Want a Ricochet Romance on so it filled the basement and our ears. While one of us was on the little dancing board the other of my sisters would sing and laugh and dance around. After complete exhaustion we would gather some ice cream out of her deep freezer and sit outside and listen to the creek as we ate.

Snake weed grows in the creek and so we would have boat races down it to see whose hit the drain first. We also would get in it and float down when we were still small and the water seemed so deep. And every week a man would come and clean out the drain and pile the wreckage on the cement beside it. It was fascinating to watch.

Grandma had a huge doll collection which included not only porcelain dolls but classics like Marilyn Monroe, Elvis, and even Mr. T. We were allowed to play with some of them but only with Karma looking on and if we put them back in her doll cabinet. In that same room was an organ that you could run a song through and it would light up the keys when you were suppose to push certain note. The faster you pushed, the faster the accompaniment would go, so it would speed up and slow down. I thought I was pretty hot stuff and would make my grandmothers listen from the other room as I whipped my way through the entirety of her music library.

Until today I had two great grandmothers living and all my grandparents. No death has immediately effected me and so I am a novice at this. I miss her greatly already and its silly because I only saw her on occasion. One thing it does though, is make me appreciate the time I have with the ones I love, so cliche, and yet so true. The big picture always becomes more focused when such events happen, and living life to the fullest becomes a reborn quest. I only hope that one day my cd player will be the symbol of a deep relationship with my grandchildren as that old record player was for my great grandmother, Karma, and me.

Conclusion: "The Cook" Wins!

I just wanted to write about my reaction to the defeat of David Archuletta on American Idol. As an avid Idol viewer I have strong feelings for the little guy, but also to the show in general. First and foremost : Archuletta rocks my socks. He is like Daron Williams in Jr. Jazz, if you know what I'm saying. He never missed a note and his innocent smiles and huge eyes made every woman over twenty want to grab him and cradle his head into her bosom and sing lullabies. What an infant success!

However much I love Archuletta, I think that "The Cook" deserved the victory. Not only can the guy sing, but he mixed it up a bit and suprised us every week. When exactly did I fall in love and become a huge fan of "The Cook?" Two words for you, Billy Jean! It was hot! Cook's boots, however, are not. You can spot that kid comin from a block away just by the croc skin shouting at you. I am definitley a fan.

Finally, I love Simon, Paula should shut up and sit down, and Randy could read the phone book and I would be a happy camper.

Still as 14 as I Can Be

I recently moved to Salt Lake, away from a college town, and in my mind into adult world. Heaven bless was I wrong. Here is why:

• There are no decorations on the walls
• We don't have anything to put our tiny TV on
• The TV has no channels yet
  
• My mom is three minutes away
• I sleep on a twin bed

But really, here is the kicker, don't be jealous.

• I have to jump into bed because my bed is on cinder blocks!

I know I am where I am supposed to be, and doing about what I am supposed to be doing, so my only conclusion is that God has a twisted sense of humor and likes to fake me out. . . "Psych!"

The Past Month

End of School-Graduating

• Rocked my finals
• Said goodbye to Provo for at least a year
• Ate nothing but candy and slurped nothing but Coke
• Kissed someone I probably shouldn't have
• It snowed

Florida-The Warmest Ever!

• Got tan
• Didn't pay for any theme parks
• Got tan
• Ate four Mickey ice cream ears- OH MY HELLA-GOOD!
• Got tan
• Body surfed
• Got tan
• Disney is freaking MAGICAL. . .don't be a hater!

Moved to SLC Officially

• Became a real adult
• Losing my tan
• Looking for a job
• Becoming whiter by the minute
• Freak Anna out, cuz she's not used to living with people
• Praying brown will last
• Doing laundry at my mom's. . .wow I am such a grown up

These are just a few highlights in the fast times of my life...how anyone would't want to BE me is unfathomable!

Done and Done!

I just took my last final at BYU ever, and my last final for an undergrad degree, and my last final of this week of hell, and my last final. . .

Then I came home to an apartment that is all packed up and bare and nobody home.

So I ate some icecream.

I sure know how to celebrate!

My Milkshake is Better than Yours

I have been as of late in California, which is posted all over my facebook if you had no idea. . .you did, admit it. Anywho, interesting story as I was in California is about to appear all over your screen. . .don't fight it.

Ali and I were going down to breakfast in our not-so-ghetto hotel and were just going to grab food and take it up to our room, little did we know that the breakfast Nazi were staring us down and ready to pounce at any sight of comida leaving the breakfast area. The problem? Anna had to eat!

So as we are sitting at our table enjoying the tiniest of bagels, Ali slips a crinkley package of Fruit Loops down her pants. . .Anna should be grateful for sure!! Then, to my amazement she looks around for people looking and shoves a bagel in her bra. I couldn't let her do all the work, so I got some milk for the cereal and pretended to be drinking it as we headed, noisily, back to our room.

Where does the story get good? Right now! Ali rounded a corner to head up the stairs and almost slams into a woman coming the opposite direction. In my heart I did a shoosh and wipe of the forehead, I couldn't really do it because I was carrying milk you know. So as I turned my head from looking at the almost accosted woman, I rounded the corner and bam! Fourteen year old girl had no clue she was about to have skim milk dripping down the front of her new American sweater!

The look on her face was a mix of shock and anger as she penetrated into my soul with her rage. I apologized profusely and asked if I could get her some napkins (I had no milk on me). Her mother in a surge of rapid fire words. . .and not English. . .told her daughter to go change and looked at me as if I was the Pope damning her daughter to Hell for all time.... Silly Europeans!

Right on Your Lap!

Colors are fun
Megan is too!
So this is an update poem,
Just For YOU!!

Hare Krishna was quite claustrophobic
My lungs felt like I was doing aerobics
Megan was green, Sheri was blue
I thought I had a bloody nose but it just wasn't true

At parties where friends bring friends
We sometimes wish our lives would ends
Adios muchachos, later, we'll see ya. . .
with Eskimos living large in Argentina!

Class is great, especially dance
I am SUPA hot in my really tight pants
All I want is to rock your soul
but let's be honest, I am out of control

This is what I do,
I sit on you . . . right on your head
If you don't believe me,
ask the Determined Indians
who are Now Free!

Unusual Sense of Style

I recently wrote a blog about my white trash car, Stella, who is missing most her hubcaps. One hubcap is actually still attached and one sits in my back seat. I am going to attach the latter to the same side as the former so at least one side of Stella looks normal. (It reminds me of one of those actors that are half female, half male. . .you know the ones I mean? Well, it doesn't get any more ghetto than that.)

This is not the point of the story, however. I had to conduct a survey for one of my stats classes so I wandered to nearby girls' apartments and humbly solicited their help. As I was sitting in she-who-will-not-be-named's apartment, I looked over on the kitchen wall and a wave of reminiscence overcame me. I couldn't help but suppress a chortle. I asked s-w-w-n-b-n where she got the lovely decor. Her response? She told me her friend found it outside the apartment, on the street. No doubt you are now asking yourself what this wall hanging was. I will keep you guessing no longer. It was nothing other than one of my vanished hubcaps.

If Hubcap had to go, I am grateful she went to a loving home. Moral of the story: If ever you are missing an antennae, seatbelt, license plate, or engine, check your neighbor's wall, they may have it for safe keeping.

I am Feeling FREUD!

In my last blog I wrote a short blurb about being out of commission so I could read Twilight. One comment I received said that the Twilight series is all about sexual repression and that my blog has a theme going, so all I can do is give you the facts and let you figure it out for yourself. . . if you have read any of my blog, this will aid you in the discovery of if I am truly experiencing sexual repression.

1-Thursday night I began watching friends and after about an hour and a half, persuaded my roommate to go get a treat with me. I bought four things: brownie mix, icecream, hot fudge, and tampons (because I am not pregnant, and I had "the bleed.")

2-I finished reading Twilight and decided that Edward Cullen is more perfect than any man could be.

3-I went and saw The Other Boleyn Girl last night and loved it. (Side note: I love historical fiction, it really allows me to understand the human nature aspect of history. P.S. It really is Henery VIII's sexual indiscretions that screwed him over-no pun intended.)

4-While looking for an apt to live in after graduation (Yay! for that), I was led to an old boyfriend's apt complex for some reason.

5-I am a Psychology major.

You decide-

Timed Out

I am timed out for a while.

Why?

I am reading the Twighlight series again.

Can I get a shout out for Edward?

Whoop Whoop!

I Swear

Avid blog readers, you already know this, but it has come to the attention of other individuals that I have been in recent contact with, that I swear. These individuals have classified me as a "good girl" and were therefore shocked to learn that my language is not church appropriate. A handsome young specimen told me that if the girl that he was crushing on were ever to say a foul word that his whole perception of her would change and he doesn't know if he could be interested.

This added empirical evidence to two questions I have been hypothesizing:

1) There is someone out there for everyone.

2) He definitely isn't for me!

Twenty Five Swiftly Approaches

There are a few things I find myself doing, and/or wanting to do as I become more age-adult day by day:

1) I cuss a whole lot more. I mean let's be honest here, I don't want to sound like a naive 14 year old Mormon girl saying, "Holy buckets Peter." So instead I become foul.

2) My want of a boob job increases exponentially by the week. Again, only 14 year olds have a chest as flat as mine.

3) Hating Provo has become permanent. Either people are getting younger, I am getting older, or it really is God's way to punish the Not-So-Molly-Mormon.

4) My seething toward twenty year old girls intensifies. Not only do they have their high school bodies, but they have the twenty five plus guys taking them out. Damn them all.

This is just a little taste to the reflections and ambitions of my ever-aging black heart.

Hubcaps and Trailorparks

Hubcaps hate me. Not only have I spent over $150 on hubcabs in the matter of three weeks, but now I am down to two...one actually on my wheel and one in my backseat, broken. Let's face it: MY CAR IS WHITE TRASH!! Not only has it been raped, by being stolen by some punk kid, I am sure, but now it has one shiny hubcap spinning it's way to the top of the dean's list of the "What the Hell are You Driving?" Club.

Violated. I have been violated. Not only by the forced relationship my car, Gem, had with her thief, but violated on the grounds that I can't look anything but trashy on the road. I consider myself to be respectable and even, dare I say, not socially awkward, even fashionable at times. When I get into my car, later Snit, and hello Stella, the nail lady missing teeth and hair two sizes bigger than her head living in the trailorpark.

Just call me Stella.

Number 1 or Number 2?

I had to pee today before one of my classes, so I walked into the women's (because believe it or not, I have a vagina) restroom and the stalls were occupied minus one: the handicap stall. I took a step forward then hesitated, was there something wrong with the toilet? No toilet paper? Pee on the seat?

In a discussion my roomie and I had, she conveyed that it was a moral consciousness that was coming into play here. "You don't park in handicap spaces. What if a handicap person needed to use it?" She also said that it is so big you feel like someone can bust in on you easier.

I agree that "doing your business" is much more. . . pleasant, if you will, when in a more confind space (why this is, only the gods can say). However, I believe the reason many of us shy away from the handicap stall is the stigma that will suddenly attach to us as and follow us around like toilet paper stuck to our shoes. That stigma is: if I use the handicap stall, I will hereby be named deficient in some way to induce the title of "handicap" to me formally, and never will I regain my non-handicapness.

The same principle applies to visiting with a mental health professional/therapist. Why do people, who need some sort of help, (admit it honey, you need it just as much as the next guy) feel like they shouldn't because all of a sudden they are labeled as "crazy." And let's face it, nobody wants that label. People are afraid of what others will think about them, whether they just really have to urinate or whether they are slap-you-on-the-bum-and-not-moving depressed, they will avoid the labels and stigma associated.

We all have an involuntary brain cognitive function that judges a new person in less than 1 second and neatly places them into a preconceived category. It takes a lot to get that person out of one category and into another, so shoot, I say if you are gonna piss your pants walk into that handicap stall proudly, unzip and let 'er rip. If you are depressed or just need an objective view on your life, make an appointment to see me in a couple years. . .(please get help in the mean time).

Moral of the story: When you got to unload, do it wherever and by whatever means necessary.

The Subconscious: The Only Way I Get Any

My roomie said, "That's wonderful" in a very flirty and inviting way in her sleep last night. My question really is what was she dreaming about and how do I get one?

Prison Life

There are a couple of things you need to know about me:

1. I work at the prison

2. I work with sex offenders at the prison

3. I laugh my freaking butt off at inmates in the prison

We give the inmates a sentence completion test where they are given the first part of a sentence and then have to finish the sentence....here are two of my favorites:

I am attracted to. . . Females. The human female.

I am most sexually aroused when. . . I am horny.
When I see an attractive woman. . . I get horny.

Whole lot of horn goin' on!

Rock to the Top

We started hip hop in my jazz dance class. If you are wondering if I rock the hiz ouse. . .the answer is NO! I wish with all my heart that the rhythm would get me, but it hasn't, Gloria lied. Damn those hip shaking latins!

Cheesy Waffles

The other day in class we had to introduce ourselves with a little known fact about us that people would remember. Okay, I am not an original person. . . I don't have wierd quirks and I haven't been super adventurous, so what would I say. This is a common concern for me when people ask these types of questions. First and blind dates tend to drift in this direction as well.

The only thing I could come up with is I like cheese on my waffles. Yes, I know, gag, gag, puke, puke. Well after I said this a chic behind me tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I liked it in the morning or for dinner. I informed her that I liked it both times at which she immediately shuttered and asked if I put syrup on it. Yes was my reply. She looked at me with all manner of distate imaginable and then I spoke very curtly: Don't knock it till you tried it.

So here is my little recipe for cheese waffles. . . don't knock it till you tried it. You may end up liking it.

One warm waffle
Spread butter lightly all over the top of the waffle
Lay thinly sliced cheddar cheese across whole waffle
Pour hot syrup on cheese
Cut, insert into mouth, and enjoy!

Como se dice DEUSH en Espanol?

Okay, let's face it. All guys are astro-deushes. I have no idea how to spell that word, but they are. I have been receiving what we shall call "crap" for not writing as dilligently on my blog as I ought and now feel pressure to do so or die a painful and untimely death.

This subject, like so many others that remain on my rather puny mind, is not original, unique, or even that entertaining...it is simply consuming. Like a spark from a piece of flint that merely licks dry leaves, this subject engulfs my brain into a rapid explosion of flame. I am speaking, as I said before, of the Astro-deush. (I really wish I knew how to spell that word.)

Two of them have recently sparked in my head, and so polar opposite are they, that I don't know if I even have a normal neuron pattern of love firing in my cerebral cortex. Side note: God-what were you thinking when you created this mess? One of these AD's has the audacity to come over and chat any time he feels any inclination and then simply spews out the list of hotties he wouldn't mind getting to know. MMMhmm. The second has and will continue to break this little heart of mine...but man AD #2 can sure kiss.

All the rest of the Astro-deushes are not even close to worth getting to know, so it looks like my mind will be engulfed in the misery of flames forever!