Hey Jenny!

         So we had a "surprise" birthday party for our Jenny the other day. For our decorations, we wrote down awesome pick-up lines addressed to her and put them on the walls around our apartment.

And my very favorite...

Bahahahaha!!

Something fishy

         Tyler and I went fishing in the Provo River this weekend? Can you guess the last time I went fishing? I was probably ten years old. I told Tyler I would only go if we threw the fish back...but of course I made him do it.

        We'd been fishing for about 30 or 40 minutes when I finally caught this bad boy. 

        To be honest, part of me was secretly hoping I wouldn't catch anything at all. Did I mention I'm terrified of fish? I don't like being in the same water as them, I don't like them nibbling at my legs and feet, I don't like the way they small or taste, and I definitely don't like how fish squirm on the hook when I'm holding it up next to my face for a picture. But life is about facing our fears, right? Did you even notice the fear in my eyes in the above picture? Or did I hide it that well?? 

        Tyler caught a fish right after I did. He's not afraid of anything. That's why we're friends.

Great roommates think alike!

        There were some companions I had on my mission where, after a few weeks of being always together, we started to pick up each other's style. With certain companions (namely, Jami :)), we would often end up in the exact same color combination for a day. Maybe it was pure coincidence part of the time, but more often than not I think it was subconscious imitation. One of us would see the other's outfit and would register that it looked dang good, and then be automatically drawn to those same colors in our own closet!

        Well, a few days ago the exact same thing happened with my roommates. I'll proudly admit that I was the first one to get ready for the day, and received compliments from my roommates on the bold color combination. Funny enough, when I met up with Jenny later in the day to get my lunch from her I thought her outfit seemed really familiar. It didn't register until a few minutes later when I realized we were wearing the exact same colors--purple and yellow! Definitely not a coincidence! I mean, who wears those colors together, really?

        Funny enough, when we got home, Averill was wearing the same shade of purple. So we took this picture:

        We didn't get another picture, but it turns out Rachel had worn a purple shirt to work that same day. Haha, we are so cool!

Two black eyes

Averill got home from her date tonight and was raving about how much fun it was. She was horrified when she looked in the mirror and saw mascara under her eyes!

Bahaha! We laughed about it :)

Why we have guys around

Last night at 9:45 I battled with this guy...

...and I lost miserably. All I wanted was to make a pb & j for my lunch, but even as I exerted all of my strength--over and over again--I could not pop the lid off. Jenny gave it a shot next and I genuinely thought she might have the right finishing touch after I had loosened it up, but she couldn't get it to budge either.

"That's why we need guys around!" Averill said.

Aha! Fortunately where we live, we have a wide selection of guys right across the sidewalk from us. So feeling slightly like the damsel in distress, I took my jam to our neighbors, and when Chris answered I asked shamelessly, "Chris, as co-chair of the service council, can you please open this jar for me?"

"Ooo," he said, feeling the pressure, I could tell. "I'll give it a try." Then, with much less effort than me, he twisted the lid right off and handed the jar of jam back to me.

"Thank you!" I exclaimed and began to turn back toward my apartment.

"Wait," he paused, a little confused. "Is that really all you needed?"

"Yep!"

When I walked back into our apartment I found Averill sitting at the table and told her, "We have some manly men across the sidewalk!"

What would we do without them?

Athletic Me

       Yay!! A guest blogger! Feel free to follow suite anyone who wants to...

       My name is Desirae and I hate moving.

        

        Let’s get a bit more specific: I hate running, jogging, hiking, and most conventional forms of exercise. That being said, I feel the need to mention what moving I do like, lest you consider me to be a recluse who lies in bed all day. I do enjoy walking (not too quickly, though), dancing, swimming, yoga-ing, and stretching. ­Most forms of exercise and movement are simply tolerated in my life either to keep myself fit or to be socially acceptable. 

        Today I found myself wanting to ride a motorcycle. That’s a problem primarily because I do not have a motorcycle. Somehow in my super-elite-logical mind I decided that riding a bicycle is like riding a motorcycle. I went to my closet and chose a cute exercise outfit, selected a helmet to match (since I couldn’t remember which was mine). I pumped up my tires and put on my not-so-stylish-but-oh-so-athletic sunglasses. After ensuring that I looked athletic and like I knew what I was doing, I put in my headphones and started up my new playlist, which I named “iBike,” because I’m just that athletic. I hopped on my awesome mountain bike only to sheepishly return after doing a circle in our street; my seat was too low. If anything that should have reminded me how long it had been since I had been out on my bike, which would further remind me that I do not like biking, but my mind was still misfiring… apparently. Having adjusted my seat and reassuring myself that I was the embodiment of athleticism, I jumped back on my bike and took off. Here’s a chronological progression of my thoughts:

        -       Ya, I’m so athletic!
        -       Biking isn’t as easy as I imagined…
        -       This is nothing like riding a motorcycle…
        -       This is the worst idea I have ever had.
        -       I wonder how I could attach a motor to this stupid thing…

        I’m not sure how far I rode, but I listened to nearly an hour and fifteen minutes worth of music. About two blocks away from my house I decided I needed a break to catch my breath, let my legs rest, and try to maintain my athletic image by drinking out of my legit water bottle. Mid-break I was struck with the realization that if I didn’t sit down or start biking I was going to vomit on some nice person’s lawn. I quickly began biking and made it to the stoplight one block away from my house. I pushed the crosswalk button, but before the light changed my body quickly reminded me that if I didn’t start riding or sit down I was not only going to vomit, but I would probably pass out too! That was a nice thought. Weighing my options, I realized that I needed to sit down since the light wasn’t going to change in time. 

        I set my bike on the grass and sat down leaning my back on the stoplight pole. I remember thinking to myself, “I probably still look athletic.” As I was reassuring myself of this, though, a car pulled up and a woman jumped out and ran to me asking if I was okay. She thought I had wrecked and was in extreme medical need, or something like that. Just like that my athletic image was shattered. After explaining to her that I was fine and just resting, I picked my bike back up and made the block-long ride home only to collapse on my lawn and vow to never be so stupid again.

What ya got cookin'?

        My roommates and I love each other so much, we take turns cooking for each other, eat dinner together as a little roommate family, and even clean up the kitchen together. Since we started doing this, I really feel more prepared to take on these domestic responsibilities as a future wife and mother!

        When I came downstairs earlier today to see if Rachel wanted any help with cooking, I saw this:

        Well, except minus the zucchini, since that wasn't added yet. Basically, I just saw two groups of orange, and I knew one of them was carrots, but I couldn't quite figure out the other one. I swear it looked like peaches, but who the heck fries peaches?

        "Hey Rach, is this..."

        I really wanted to get this right. Somehow I would fail if I didn't.

        "Ummm..."

        While my mind was busy deciding whether it was plausible that this orange fruit was, indeed, peaches (that could be really good! Maybe?),

        "Oohh, it's a..." I was about to get it! It was on the tip of my tongue!

        I noticed a cantaloupe on the counter.

        "Oh, it's a cantaloupe!"

        Rachel looked at me like Carly looks at Bella when Bella thinks the grass is blue.

        It wasn't cantaloupe. It was squash. Go figure : /

The Sidewalkers

        There is a group of friends who we like to call "The Sidewalkers." We gave them this nickname because they enjoy sitting outside between our rows of houses to do their homework when the weather is nice. I think that is a great idea. Fantastic, really! I LOVE being outside! And it's smart of them to take advantage of the weather before it slowly deteriorates. They are a friendly bunch, too, that would probably warmly welcome anyone who wanted to join them.

        Well, now, niceties aside, I always have three thoughts go through my head when I see them (most often when I go to get the mail, or on occasion when a date or other friend picks me up at my front door...and then brings me home again):

        First, I think, Really, would you guys mind moving your feet when you see me coming down the sidewalk so I don't have to do this awkward little jig between you...both ways?

        Second, I think, I know you are out here all afternoon, but do you really get any homework done?

        And on my way back, after having already greeted them once, I wonder if I am supposed to greet them again. If not, then what is the socially acceptable thing to do here? Sometimes I just smile, and other times I try to act natural and avoid all eye contact. Maybe I'm supposed to stop and chat with them for awhile? I feel like my life would be a lot easier if we didn't live at the very far end of our apartment complex...

The Job Search Begins . . .

The job search is serious.

Grown-up.

Hard work.

Responsibility.

Competition.

Pressure.

Stress.

Headaches.

Resumes.                                            

Interviews.  

In fact, it probably doesn't belong on this blog. I'm only writing about it because I graduate soon (major in Communications and minor in English) and I'm going to have to find a job. I thought I'd be resourceful and ask my incredibly large and rapidly inreasing number of blog followers for some ideas. In a nutshell, I would get to do this in my dream job:

Help others, employ my compassionate side, create often, exercise my talents and develop new ones, write, use as little technology as possible, but much face-to-face interaction and interpersonal communication.

I also like to:

• Teach
• Work with children
• Make delicious smoothies
• Read
• Work with different cultures
• Travel
• Listen
• Motivate
• Work hard

If you have any ideas/connections/motivational comments/inspirational wisdom/words of comfort to share, please send them my way :) :)

Ok, but I promise my life is not really that boring. Today I joined the Black Student Union (in Provo one must seek out diversity if they wish to find it), a random guy-student (boy? man? I never know what word to use here) asked for my phone number, and little Jackson smeared his poop all over my arm while I was baby-sitting. What's not to laugh about? 

Bee Sting!

        I am really curious how many of you out there have never been stung by a bee? I feel like that fortunate group includes the majority of people I have ever talked to, but I can count on 5 fingers all the times I've ever been stung that I remember, even though I know there are actually more.

       One of those times was yesterday, and it should probably actually count as two times since I was stung simultaneously by the same bee in two different places--my leg and my finger. We were eating outside on the grass when I reached down subconsciously to brush something off my leg, not realizing it was a malicious BEE until the pain struck. I was kind of confused at first because I couldn't remember what you're supposed to actually do when you get stung. But my wonderful roommate, Averill, hurried back with me to the apartment where she googled home remedies as I ran cool water over my injuries. We learned that there are many different things you can use to treat a bee sting, including meat tenderizer (I don't even know what that is, but it's legit--we read it on two different websites). Ultimately we ended up trying cortizone lotion, and then toothpaste, and then resorted to ice. Not plain old ice, of course, but laundry detergent ice. Apparently frozen detergent makes a great ice pack!

    

Double Blind Date

        I would love to just blog all day about the cool people I meet, the strange ones, my roommates' most embarrassing moments, my juicy dating life, etc. You would all be thoroughly entertained by my adventurous life I'm sure, but for the sake of friendship, dignity, and privacy (and the fact that anyone can easily link to this blog via my facebook site), I tend to blog mostly about myself. However, some stories are too good not to be shared, and so I change names, use vague details, and sandwich those posts in between others, but I really hope some of the original humor and irony still shines through. 

        The story I'm thinking of happened on Saturday. My roommate and I went on a double blind date. Now, if you know me you know I hate blind dates and since returning from my mission decided that they are not necessary any unless I feel strongly impressed otherwise, but I couldn't say no to this one because I was setting my roommate up with a mission friend and he wanted to make it a double. So I took one for the team and agreed to a completely blind date. Like, I literally didn't know anything about him except his name--no height, weight, body type, eye color, age, or hometown. Despite that, the date went surprisingly well. We got along great and there was not one second on the date where I thought ok, take me home now, please! It was just great and I would probably go out with him again.

        Now, the funny thing is what I found out the next day: that my blind date's older sister recently married a guy I dated a few years back. So they're, like, brothers-in-law. Think about how crazy that is! Small world, hè? I wish I could give you more insight into the relationship, their personalities, the date, certain conversations I'd had with my roommates earlier that day, my own thoughts and unanswered questions to help you understand how utterly ironic and funny that is to me, but it goes back to the first paragraph of this post. I swear, my life is never boring and I love it. There are always things to laugh about!