Happy Halloween!

Spookily similar, huh?

Best. Costume. EVER!

This is my cousin's little boy dressed as... the Travelocity Gnome. Awesome, huh?

Scott Stoddard! Scott Stoddard!

OK, so this post will only be funny to 1 person... maybe 2. Back in my single days - way back - I lived in a tiny duplex on 9th East in Provo. Me and the roomie, Chit Chatt, didn't spend a whole lot of time at our house, but instead hung out across the street at a group of houses known as "the courtyard." There was a house of guys, one of them being Scott Stoddard, and we went over there a lot... mostly because they had a TV.

We had a lot of good times with these guys, and were really sad when one of them moved out. We missed Bob, but the guy who took his place seemed like he'd be alright. Shortly after Russ... or Ross... or Randy moved in, Chit Chatt and I asked Scott what he was like and whether the guys liked him as a rommmate. This was Scott's response: "His diet consists mostly of sausage and cheese. I don't think that's very healthy." I said, "what does that mean?" Scott said, "he has a certain smell." Nuff said, Scott Stoddard. Chit Chatt and I moved shortly after this, so we never really got a chance to know Russ/Ross/Randy. I do remember him having a certain smell.

So flash forward to 2008. Right before the hubs and I got married, I started craving bean and cheese burritos from Beto's/Rancherito's/Whatever the heck it's called these days. I told Rob this and he touched my forehead and asked if I was doing alright. I know, I know. Beto's is hardly the pinnacle of culinary quality, but I was always needing a bean and cheese burrito real bad. I craved them daily. I hadn't indulged that craving until today. See, I went home for lunch and smelled some Mexican goodness coming from the ghetto Tesoro/Taco Shop/Smoke Shop next door and it must have triggered my Beto's reflex. Maybe that's why I've been craving the B&C burrito every day since I moved into our condo. Anyway, I couldn't take it any longer. I had to indulge my Beto's craving.

I am hooked now! I want to eat a B&C burrito from Beto's every single day! Maybe that's what happened to Russ/Ross/Randy with the sausage and cheese diet. I just don't want Rob to say, when someone asks how 'being married' is, "being married is great, except Jen's diet consists entirely of bean and cheese burritos from Beto's." To which someone might say, "what does that mean?" And Rob would say "there's a certain smell to her." So, I have resolved not to eat B&C burritos from Beto's every day... just on the 4th Friday of every month.

A Great Prop 8 Article

Orson Scott Card wrote a great article in support of Prop 8. You should read it.

http://mormontimes.com/mormon_voices/orson_scott_card/?id=4740

Yessssss!

Jack is back!

What My Bed Says About Me

So here's what some dumb quiz says that my bed says about me. Can you tell it's a slow day in the blogging world for me? Since I have nothing else to blog about, I've added my comments in parenthesis. BTW - the bed to the right really is my bed. I have excellent taste, I know. Well, it's not actually my bed. Just the bedding is the same.

Outward appearances are a concern of yours, but not your primary concern. (True)

You try to take care of yourself and your home, but it's not an obsession. (True)

You are an organized and disciplined person. You do the right thing because you want to, not because people expect you to. (Sort of true. I like to cook well and throw awesome parties because people expect it.)

You are not very high maintenance in general, but you are high maintenance about a few things. (True)

In relationships, you tend to be quite dominant. You enjoy taking charge. (Not True. Sort of.)

You tend to be a dreamy, head in the clouds type of person. You think in terms of possibilities. (So not true. I am pragmatic.)

You are a total homebody. You are happiest when you're at home. (Sometimes)

To find out what your bed says about you, go to http://www.blogthings.com/whatdoesyourbedsayaboutyouquiz/.

Your Tax Dollars at Work

The hubs and I got our property tax bill/whatever it's called in the mail yesterday and I said to him, "because we pay this, some little kiddies will be able to go to school and learn." He replied, "not our kiddies." And I said, "not yet." How interesting that I should see this yesterday. It's rich... and not in a chocolate/Donald Trump sort of way. My friend, Chit Chatt, got this from her sister. Apparently, this flyer was sent home from school with one of the kids. I just don't know what to say other than "OMG'ness!" I sure hope that this isn't a reflection of the edumacation that our children are getting in the public school system.

So, here's the question: Is the "g" in stanger a hard or soft "g?" Actually, I have several questions. Is a "Parent" better than a "parent?" If there's a "last," where's the "first?" I didn't know that "toss" was in. Now it's "out." My friend Becky pointed out that any kids who are of the age to be Trick-or-Treating probably don't know what the word "tamper" means. My assessment is that the person who wrote this, judging by their spelling, punctuation and grammar, probably doesn't know what the word "tamper" means, either. I thought that with the advent of spell check that egregious errors like this couldn't exist anymore. I mean, really................. I think it's better to be safe then sorry and use spell check. Yep, you read correctly. If you're safe, then you're sorry. In that case, I think it's probably better to throw caution, and this flyer, to the wind. OK, I'm going to stop because all of this "proofreading" is making my brain hurt.

Disclaimer: I know several teachers, a few of whom read this blog. You guys are doing a great job! I can't vouch for any of the others out there, but you guys are awesome............................

Nasty Smells

I work in a small office. Very small. So small that you hear every conversation and smell every smell eminating from a neighboring cube, the break room, bathroom... you catch my drift. There have been many days when a co-worker has heated up their lunch in the breakroom and then brought it out to their cube to eat it and I have wanted to vomit in my cup (but remember how the cleaning lady likes to take my cup and wash it? Sometimes when I feel like vomiting, it's not there). Anyhoo, there is one particular co-worker who likes to cook the same thing several times a week, and that smell is the most atrocious of all. I won't say who it is or what they're cooking because I don't know who it is or what it is. Seriously. I have yet to figure it out.

One day, I thought to myself "I'm glad that I never eat offensive smelling food at work."

I had an optometry appointment today during my lunch, so I didn't have time to go home to eat. Instead, I stopped at a very sinful eating establishment, a.k.a. Burgers Supreme, and got me a Gyro (pronounced "year-o"). I got back just in time for a meeting, so I left my Gyro on the desk and headed to the conference room. When I came back to my desk after the meeting, I could smell it. And it didn't smell all that good. I mean, it smelled good, but it smelled strongly of onions. Nobody likes to smell onions at work. I was really hungry by this point, so I unwrapped it and started snarfing it down. I could smell it, and I knew that everyone else could, and then I started to feel a little like Dwight Schrute in the episode of The Office where he says he isn't a time thief and Jim gets the stopwatch to prove him wrong. I am a "smell thief," and by that I mean that I stole the good, clean smelling air from my co-workers and replaced it with foul, gyro air.

Do I feel bad? Not really. Afterall, it was a dang good Gyro!

Following the leader

Please follow my blog so that I don't feel like such a blog dork. Please.

Oy vey!

I just bought 100 of these for an upcoming ward activity. I feel weird. I also feel like watching Yentil. "Papa, can you hear me?" Or maybe even Fiddler on the Roof.

Whatchoo Talkin 'Bout, Willis? These boots totally go with this outfit.

OK. I just had to post this. I couldn't copy the picture, so go to the link and check out the outfit. He's not helping his cause. I mean, really, if he wants people to stop patting him on the head and calling him "Arnold," he should stop dressing like a 5 year old playing cowboys and indians.

Daily Herald - Gary Coleman pleads not guilty

It's a wise husband who will buy his wife such fine china that she won't trust him to wash the dishes

Well, in my case that won't work because Rob is better at doing dishes and less clumsy than I am, but I thought the quote was funny.

When Rob and I got engaged and were registering for gifts, we were told to pick out a china pattern at Bed Bath and Beyond. We looked through a book and chose something, but neither of us were super excited about it and didn't think anyone would buy us the china. We were right. No one bought us any china. I felt stupid having it on the registry because it made us look like pretentious social climbers, so I took it off and we instead elected to register for a more modestly priced set of "fine dishware" at JC Penney. The cost of the entire set equaled the cost of one place setting at BBB. We decided that if, after our receptions, no one bought the "fine dishware" that we would buy the set for ourselves. We didn't get it at any of our receptions, so we went online and got it for ourselves. It arrived last week, and after opening up the box, we realized we had no room - absolutely no room - to store the fine dishware.

A few days later, Rob mentioned that he thought we should get a china hutch to put the china and some of our other plates and platters and such in. I thought that was a great idea, and that of course, we could get one at IKEA. The other night we got online and looked at their site and saw that they didn't really have any such thing. I guess they're not that fashionable anymore because we didn't see a lot on any of the sites we looked at, except for RC Willey, and RC Willey charges an arm, a leg, and your firstborn for them. I got so depressed because as soon as we would see one that we liked and in a price range we liked, we would see that it was only for one of the pieces of the buffet/hutch. I didn't even know they were separate. I went to bed that night feeling depressed that we would probably not get a china cabinet and that we would have to store our dishes under the dining room table in cardboard boxes.

The next day, I had a stroke of genius and thought about looking on Craig's List for a china cabinet. I looked through and saw some china cabinets but, again, they were way out of our price range and/or ugly as sin. I almost stopped looking but I thought I'd scroll through a few more pages when I came upon a listing that seemed pretty good. I clicked on the link and there was more information plus a picture. It looked good and it was definitely within our budget. We figured we didn't want to spend any more than $500. I emailed Rob the link and he said that we should look into it. When I saw the date the listing was made, I figured that it must already be gone, or if it wasn't, that it must be a piece of junk and no one wanted to buy it. I called the guy and, to my surprise, it was still available. The owner said there was a blemish on it from the last move, but that it could easily be repaired. We had to drive up to Midway, which is kind of far, but we thought that we'd take a chance and go check it out since the price was super awesome!

I was feeling a little apprehensive as we drove up to the house, but when the lady opened the garage and I saw it sitting there, I knew we were going to get it. It looked great. I started looking for the "blemish," expecting a chunk of wood to be missing or broken glass, but I didn't see anything. The lady pointed out what she thought the blemish was, and it was just some varnish that had been rubbed off. It could easily be fixed, but it was so small that no one would notice unless it was pointed out. We opened the drawers and the cabinets and everything looked great. It is definitely not something that you'd find in a store today, but it is built well, in good shape, and the price was right. We shook hands on the deal and packed our china hutch up in the truck and smiled all the way back to Provo.

Wanna see what it looks like?

Wanna know how much we threw down for it?

$75.00



Awesome!

Crazy Eights!

I got tagged one more time...

Eight TV Shows I Love to Watch (in no particular order)
1. Dawg the Bounty Hunter
2. Gilmore Girls
3. SYTYCD
4. The Office
5. Barefoot Contessa
6. Lost
7. CSI
8. Anything on the E! Channel

Eight Things That Happened Yesterday
1. Went to the doctor and got some antibiotics for my sinus infection
2. Went to work
3. Ran out of Kleenex
4. Did the dishes
5. Drove up the canyon with Rob to look at the leaves
6. Helped Rob bring his old bed over to the Deckers
7. Visited with the Deckers
8. Went to bed early ;)

Eight Favorite Places to Eat (in no particular order)
1. Red Robin
2. Gloria's Little Italy
3. Magleby's Fresh
4. Zupa's
5. Mimi's Cafe
6. Bombay House
7. Thai Village
8. Kneader's

Eight Things I'm Looking Forward To
1. Going to Disneyland at Thanksgiving
2. Getting my hair cut
3. Getting my brows waxed
4. My husband coming home from work and school late tonight
5. Getting laundry done
6. Getting all of the presents put away and the house cleaned
7. Robyn and Jane coming back from St. George
8. Heidi, Allison, and Krystal getting married (I've put all of you on my prayer roll for people I want to have awesome things happen to)

Eight Things on My Wish List
1. A new couch
2. A dishwasher
3. More cabinet and counter space
4. A full 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep
5. A temple sealing for my parents
6. A good hair day
7. Harsher punishment for parole violators
8. World peace

People I tag
1. Karen
2. Becca
3. Stormy
4. Krystal

Thank Goodness!

I've woke up this morning feeling very grateful for the many blessings that Heavenly Father has bestowed upon me. I've been sick for over a week now, and have been feeling a little grouchy because of it, but something must have happened to me in the middle of the night that made me remember all of the many reasons that I shouldn't be grouchy. In no particular order, these are the things I felt thankful for today:

1) My wonderful, loving husband. One of the first things about Robert that I was attracted to was his kindness and genuineness (is that a word?). Since we met, I have been the recipient of his genuine kindness and love and have seen him express that to others, as well. He selflessly helps and serves his family and friends and since I have been sick he has selflessly served and taken care of me. It is hard for me to let others help, especially when I feel like crud and would like to crawl into a hole and not come out until I am well, but he is so sweet and loving that it was hard to refuse his help. I love him so much!

2) Fall weather. I can't help but think of the magnificence and power of God when I see the leaves change colors and feel the cold snap in the air. It's like it is His reward to us for making it through another nasty, hot summer.

3) Good friends. Being able to spend time with friends, new and old, and share the day's happenings, advice, funny stories, hard times, etc. Thanks for the laughs.

4) Latter-day prophets. One of my friends wanted to make foam fingers to sell outside of the Conference Center during General Conference that say "Latter-day Prophets are #1." Probably not a good idea, but Latter-day prophets are still #1. I am so thankful that we have prophets on the earth today to lead and guide us and convey to us the will of the Lord. Hard times are upon us, but we will be safe if we follow the prophet.

5) Modern medicine. Nancy Reagan says "Just Say No!", and so do I for the most part, but when it comes to anti-inflammatories and antibiotics, I "Just Say Yes!" My husband has been trying to get me to rub and inhale all sorts of homeopathic remedies, which are OK, but I'll take the hard stuff any day. Also, if anyone tells you that sticking a candle in your ear and lighting it will make you better, DON'T DO IT!

6) Funny pets. I get a lot of amusement from our cat, Kaydee. She's weird. I still don't like that she sheds and jumps up onto the bathroom sink, but she makes me laugh and I'm thankful for that.

7) Having relatively good health. Other than my recent illness, I am healthy and strong.

8) Having a home to live in, food to eat, climate control in both the house and vehicle, a job, insurance, Diet Coke, etc. In other words, not living in poverty. My friend, Krystal, and I were talking about some of the things we saw when we went to Mexico and felt so blessed that we have the things we have.

9) The blessings of the temple. I am so thankful that Robert and I have been sealed for time and all eternity. In General Conference yesterday, Elder Nelson gave a talk about families and said that salvation is an individual responsibility, but that exaltation takes a family.

I'm a bigot!

And you know what? I'm proud of it. If standing up for what is right is being bigoted, then I am all for it.

I was reading something that a "friend" posted on his Facebook page, when it occurred to me that I was the subject of his writings. In his post, he said that he had an old friend who was getting married and he was looking forward to going to her reception until he noticed on her Facebook profile that she supports Prop. 8. In his words, "how can I recognize and celebrate the marriage of someone who refuses to recognize my marriage?" And that's when he called me a bigot. At first I was shocked that such a word would come from his mouth, and that I would be the one he would call that. Then I felt that maybe I should call him and apologize for offending him. And then I felt at complete and total peace with being called a bigot. I believe that marriage between a man and a woman is the only marriage that is recognized by God and should be recognized by mankind. I will stand up for that and I will do everything within my power to support legislation stating such. And I am not ashamed of that stance.

I will be the first to admit that I do not understand why some people feel attraction towards the same sex. I do not love my friend any less because of the lifestyle he has chosen to live, and I do believe he has chosen it. I feel compassion for him, but not in an 'I feel so sorry for you' sort of way. I feel that he is a son of God and that Heavenly Father loves him very much. I respect his agency in making his choices, but I do not support his choice.

Since getting married, I have come to have a stronger testimony of "The Family: A Proclamation to the World", which states:

"The first commandment that God gave to Adam and Eve pertained to their potential for parenthood as husband and wife. We declare that God’s commandment for His children to multiply and replenish the earth remains in force. We further declare that God has commanded that the sacred powers of procreation are to be employed only between man and woman, lawfully wedded as husband and wife.

"We declare the means by which mortal life is created to be divinely appointed. We affirm the sanctity of life and of its importance in God’s eternal plan."

I know that the powers of procreation are sacred and am very mindful of the gravity of the commandment that those powers are only to be employed between husband and wife. I feel grateful for that knowledge.

Growing up in LA, you'd think that I would have been persecuted for my beliefs before. I was not. Most of my friends respected my beliefs and many looked to me as an example. How strange is it that the first religous persecution I have received happened in a state where the majority of the people hold the same beliefs as I do? Wow!

An old bishop of mine frequently talked about how there can be no fence-sitting when it comes to living the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The right choice isn't always the popular one, but it's still the right choice. I mourn the loss of a friend, but rejoice in living the Gospel and following the Living Prophet.

So yes, I support Prop. 8. If I didn't, I'd be a coward and a hypocrite. And I'd rather be called a bigot any day over a coward or a hypocrite.

Being Creative

I didn't go to the General Relief Society meeting on Saturday because a) I just got off the plane from my honeymoon and b) I didn't want to be away from my honey just yet. Thanks to my sister-in-law Karen for telling me to listen to Pres. Uchtdorf's talk as soon as I could.

I like Pres. Uchtdorf. A lot. I believe he is possibly the best-looking member of any First Presidency... EVER! I guess I shouldn't say that I have a favorite apostle or prophet, because they're all called of God and speak on His behalf, but there are some whose words resonate within me more than others. Pres. Uchtdorf is one whose words touch me to the very core.

So let me go back to why I am thanking Karen for telling me to listen to his talk as soon as I could. Karen is a scrapbooker. I am not a scrapbooker. Karen has tried on numerous occassions to get me to come to an all-day scrapping shindig, and on numerous occassions I have declined. My lack of scrapping stemmed from an occassion at Pebbles in my Pocket with Robyn and Heather, where the nice lady who worked there told me that they had plenty of extra materials if I wanted to start my page over again. And I thought I had done a good job. Ever since that day, I've thought that I lacked the creativity to produce anything nice to look at.

Enter Pres. Uchtdorf. The gist of his talk was that being creative was creating something that didn't exist before. If you count creating a mess, then I must be the most creative person ever. He talked about how sisters in the church need to stop worrying about what we aren't or what we lack, and start counting our blessings and rejoicing in who we are and what we have. I have often felt terribly inadequate during my lifetime, and I know that it has been because I have been so terribly blessed that Satan has worked doubly hard on me to make me think that I am not. I don't know if that made any sense, but I am now learning to rejoice in who I am and how to use the tools and gifts that I have been given in this life for the benefit and blessing of others and myself.

I remember thinking when I was single that life would automatically get better once I got married. In a sense, that has been the case. Life is different - wonderfully different - but I am still the same person and I am just as blessed as before. The only thing that is different is that now I have someone to share these blessings with. As mortals, we're always thinking about the next phase and wondering what it will be like. When I was single, I thought that married life is where life really began. Now that I'm married, I'm already thinking that having children will be better. We never seem to be content with our current ciscumstances. I think this is good and bad at the same time. Good because it propels us to progress and move forward in life. Bad because if we aren't moving forward at the pace we would like or the pace that others have set for us, we become discouraged.

Pres. Uchtdorf talked about finding happiness in the things of God. He said that one of the ways we find this happiness is through creating things. The most obvious method of creation is to bring children into this world, but beyond that, using our talents and abilities to create smiles, beautify spaces, teach a child, garden, etc. He admonished us to trust in the Spirit as we go about our daily lives, creating. When we bless the lives of others, we are being creative.

I may not be able to scrapbook or even draw a decent stick figure, but I can lift the hands that hang, I can serve, and I can love.

You've heard of a Velvet Elvis, and maybe even a Velvet Neil Diamond...

But have you heard of a Velvet Joseph Smith? The story I am about to tell is one of the best parts of our honeymoon... in my opinion.

We took a cruise down to San Diego, Catalina Island, and Ensenada, Mexico. San Diego and Catalina were pretty uneventful. We ate some tortillas in Old Town, walked along the harbor in Catalina, and pretty much did normal things. Ensenada was the last stop on the cruise, and one I was especially looking forward to because I wanted to buy some cheap Mexican crap. Once we got into port, there were a few options. We could just stay in the downtown area and explore for ourselves, we could take a guided tour through Ensenada and watch a Folklorico show, or we could take a bus outside of the city to see La Bufadora. We'd heard from friends who'd been there that it wasn't worth it, but when the guy on the bus said "the shopping is better and cheaper" bells went off in my head and I started dreaming about the cheap Mexican crap I was going to buy. I was sold.

We got on the bus and our tour guide, Lili, started off by speaking to us in the espanol. I was all excited because I could understand her, but the other peeps on the bus couldn't so she switched to English. We drove through the city and out to the country to where the blow hole (la bufadora) was. Ensenada isn't very pretty. For the most part, it looked like a mix of the Mojave Desert, East LA, and the beach. There was also this smoggy/foggy mess in the air and it was so humid that I felt like I had wet my pants the entire time we were there. There just seemed to be a lot of dirt floating around in the air. We got to the La Bufadora after about a 30 minute drive through the city past a Home Depot, a Walmart, a Costco, a Mc Donalds, and an Applebee's. No kidding. Above the entrances to Walmart was written "Siempre." I'm glad that "always" translated so well. One thing I'm wondering - do they call it "el Walmart," "la Walmart," or just "Walmart?" I should have asked.

Once we got to La bufadora, our tourguide walked us down through the open market and gave us some pointers for bargaining and ways to make sure we don't get sold fake silver. She also gave us some stickers that would allow us to pee for free in one of the restaurants. I'm so glad that I live in America, where at least I pee for free. Anyway, we ended up down by the actual blow hole, which Lili called a geyser, which is neither a blow hole nor a geyser, and we were told to meet back at the bus in about an hour. There was some guy dressed up in some native attire, beating a drum and dancing and he almost attacked Rob when he tried to take his picture without paying. Obviously, this guy has never heard of zoom lenses and didn't think that people would just walk 15 feet away and get his picture. I'm not sure if Rob got one or not.

Down at La Bufadora, we waited for this amazing natural phenomenon to knock our socks off. It was lame. There's a crevice on the cliffs, and when the waves rush in to the small space, it pushes water up at a very high rate of pressure and sprays all over the place. Our tour guide said that when it happens you will get very wet if you don't run away. Hardly. And it smelled like pee. I'm assuming that because you have to pay to use the bathroom everywhere else that tourists and locals alike use the la bufadora as the el bano. After getting some pictures, we walked back up the street to the open air market. We both had to usar el bano at this point, so we went into the restaurant where we had complimentary peeing priveleges. At least it was clean.

We did the whole bargaining thing, which is just crazy, and got some cool stuff. I didn't get the awesome turquoise necklace that i wanted, but that's a whole 'nother story and I don't have the energy to tell it. It makes me frown. Rob really wanted to get a hammock, so we checked several different places. The last one we went into was where Rob decided to get it. The thing with the shop owners there is that they just don't know how to let you alone. They follow you around there store and try to sell you everthing. This one guy was particularly aggressive. I was staying out of range because I just wasn't in the mood to deal with this guy, but I was close enough that I could hear everything he said to Rob. He was grabbing a hammock down from the ceiling, when he lost his balance and kicked over a ceramic donkey statue that was on the ground. "Ay dios mio, my donkey!" The donkey's hind legs broke off. He was really upset about it. And then, when Rob was closing the deal with him, this conversation took place:

Mexican guy: Are you a Mormon?
Rob: Yeah
Mexican guy: You know how I can tell? I see it in your eyes.
Rob: Um, OK.
Mexican guy: You see those pictures up there? (points to a row of velvet paintings on the wall) I have one of Joseph Smith in the back. You want one?
Rob: No thanks.

I'm standing about 1o feet away and dying inside because I want to see this velvet Joseph Smith so badly. But I didn't want to get something else started, so we just left.

Oh, how I wish we had seen the velvet Joseph Smith. I may have bought it... especially if he had one of Brigham Young, too. Maybe I can find one on eBay.

On the way back to the bus, a guy gave me a free sample of a churro and it was delicioso. I wanted to get one, but I didn't feel like $3.00 was a reasonable price for a churro... especially since the most expensive place on the planet, Disneyland, sells them for $3.50. I'm willing to wait a few months and spend $.50 more for peace of mind and solid bowels.

We also got assailed by people trying to sell us prescription drugs. There was a "farmacia" about every 25 feet throughout the open market, and they run out to you in the street and hand you a flyer listing all of the drugs they offer. Viagra was always in the biggest print and listed at the top. Rob no necesita viagra, so we kept on walking. I did stop into one of the pharmacies in downtown Ensenada because I saw that they had large quantities of heartburn medicine for super cheap. Rob wouldn't let me buy it because he thought it might be made from laundry detergent. Que lastima!

So, in the end, we walked away with some cheap mexican crap, dirt on our faces, and I'm pretty sure a virus of some sort. Best vacation ever!

Ghetto Superstar

It's official. I live in the ghetto. There were 2 domestic violence disputes in 1 day. I wasn't around to witness the first one, although I wish I had been because the couple was arguing about shampoo and conditioner and then the police showed up. I was there for the second one, but it wasn't very exciting because this couple was arguing in Espanol and I couldn't understand them. And the police didn't show up. I guess that's just how they roll on the West Side. Peace, I gotta bounce.

It's another hungry mouth to feed in the ghetto...

Thank you Elvis.

I was reading my friend Mal's blog today and she blogged about the lack of common sense and hygiene displayed by the members of her ward. I think my ward members are pretty hygenic. I've never smelled anything funny there, or seen puke in the hallway, so hygiene, or lack thereof in my ward, isn't the subject of which I want to write. I do, however, want to write about the lack of common sense and hygiene of my next door neighbors. They don't go to our ward, so I can talk about them.

Before I moved into Robert's condo, I never really noticed anything sitting outside our neighbors door except for their children's swim trunks drying on the rail. Not my style, but whatev. But after I moved in, I started noticing plastic grocery bags with something in them piling up on the front porch. And then one day, I saw dirty diapers, sans the bag, piled up on the porch. I asked Robert about it and he said that he has seen the door open a crack and a diaper being thrown out and then the door closing. Sometimes they leave these diapers sitting there for days. But the peak of laziness hadn't been reached until this morning when I saw a pile of diapers, with one of them opened and its contents spilling out onto the porch. It made me want to vomitar right there on the porch. I just put my head down and ran past it. When I came home for lunch, the pile o' diapers was gone, but the memory still lingered.

Willowbrook Condos are small, but not so small that a diaper sitting in the garbage for a night or so will create fumes toxic enough to kill the entire family. I Just don't understand why this family can't get themselves a Diaper Genie and empty it every so often. Or, why they can't walk the 25 feet to the dumpster to toss it. To me, throwing dirty diapers out on the porch is the epitome of white trash... or so I thought.

Last week, I was walking up to the condo from the mailbox and I was stopped by a woman sitting on the grassy knoll outside our living room window. She asked me what my name was, but not in a nice, friendly way. It was more like "Who are you?" I told her my name and she said that her name was Jennifer, too. I noticed she had a child in her lap, but I usually look people in the face while I'm talking to them, so I didn't notice that the 3 year old child in her lap was nursing. She had her entire breast exposed to the world, while she was feeding a 3 year old! On the grassy knoll outside my living room window! Not OK. Now, I don't want people to think that I'm opposed to breastfeeding, because I'm not, but I think that the girls should be covered at all times. And I also think there is a statute of limitations on the age of children to be breastfed. Gums, OK. Teeth, not OK. So, although I was shocked and appalled, I tried to keep my game face on and be a good, friendly neighbor, continuing the conversation. Somewhere between her asking me what my name was and which condo I lived in, the three year old decided that he had gotten his fill, got up, and ran over to play with some other kids. Did she tuck everything back in? Nope. Just let it all hang out. And then she began to put me through the 3rd degree about how she doesn't know my fiance personally, but she knows a girl he dated, and that she was so surprised to hear that he was getting married, and how she actually knew my name was Jennifer and where I lived because she was visiting someone else in the neighborhood that had our wedding announcement on their fridge. If I wasn't officially creeped out by the breastfeeding, the admission of stalking closed the deal.

I never really thought of Willowbrook as the ghetto. There doesn't seem to be any violent crime, except for that one shooting a couple of years ago in Building 1 that happened during the day when no one was around. I haven't heard of any break-ins. I don't see bars on windows or gang bangers flashing signs, but I think I live in the ghetto. The HOA has rules that won't allow people to put a satellite dish on the roof, but there are no rules governing dirty diapers thrown onto the porch or public nudity. What gives?

I've decided that I'm going to appoint myself as the official Willowbrook "Ghetto Blaster," fighting tastelessness and promoting common decency. First order of business: buy a Diaper Genie and a Hooter Hider.

Not it!

Here's a non-tag that I thought was fun. Feel free to utilize on your own blog.

1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: (first pet & current car) Oreo Hyundai
2.YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (fave ice cream flavor, favorite cookie) Chocolate Chocolate Chip
3. YOUR “FLY Guy/Girl” NAME: (first initial of first name, first three letters of your last name) J-Mad
4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal) Pink Beagle
5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born) Ann Inglewood
6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first)MadJe
7. SUPERHERO NAME: (”The” + 2nd favorite color, favorite drink) The Turquoise Dr. Pepper
8. NASCAR NAME: (the first names of your grandfathers) Robert Jack or Jack Robert
9. STRIPPER NAME: (the name of your favorite perfume/cologne/scent, favorite candy)Pink Sugar Rittersport
10.WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother’s & father’s middle names )Rutledge Norman
11. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME: (Your 5th grade teacher’s last name, a major city that starts with the same letter) Fleming Fresno
12. SPY NAME: (your favorite season/holiday, flower) Winter Rose
13. CARTOON NAME: (favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now + “ie” or “y”)Strawberry Cardigany
14. HIPPY NAME: (What you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree) Toast Maple
15. YOUR ROCKSTAR TOUR NAME: (”The” + Your fave hobby/craft, fave weather element + “Tour”)"The Blogging Rain Tour"

The itsy-bitsy spider...

Crawled on my foot and bit the heck out of me! See exhibit A to your left. There are 2 of them and they're huge, purple/red, itchy, and painful. Check out the swelling and redness of the remainder of the foot. I've always prided myself on the fact that I never had cankles, which is probably why I'm sporting just one now. At first, I thought it was a mosquito bite, but then it started acting like a mosquito bite on crack! I've never had an itch that bad in my life. I called a Nurse Practitioner friend of mine on Monday night because I started to worry a little about the swelling and redness and she told me to watch it and if it got worse in the next 24 hours to head to the doctor. I still wasn't worried enough to go, when I found this one on my arm. And when I woke up this morning it had stuff coming out of it. Whenever "stuff" is involved, I head straight to the doctor. So in I went, and when I lifted up my pant leg to show the nurse, she gasped and jumped back a little. Granted, it was her first day on the job. She said "it looks like you got bit by an animal and not a bug." Yes it does, sister.

My trusty PA, Todd, came in and took a lookey and saw fang marks on the one on my arm, so that is definitely from a spider, but he couldn't see fangs on the foot. He's guessing the bites are from the same source. All three are infected, which explains the redess/hotness/itchiness/pain, so he hooked me up with the antibiotics and an ointment of some sort. While we're on the subject of "ointment," I just have to mention that the word is on my top 10 list of words I don't like, along with "moist."

I'll keep you, my loyal readers, abreast of my healing progress - if you're not too grossed out by the pictures. I need these wounds to be gone in 23 days, or I may look like a battered bride.

P.S. I am turning into my grandmother. She liked to take pictures of everyone's scars/incisions/bumps/bruises/surgeries etc. and show everyone who came to her house. Luckily for Grandpa, she decided she didn't need pictures of his prostate surgery. She also kept track of everyone's menstrual cycles on her calendar that hung in the kitchen. May she rest in peace.

Line upon Line

Barfing. At. My. Desk.

http://www.lineuponlinecards.com/

The line needed to be drawn a lot further away from this.

I'm popular!

Or at least my name is. I followed a link from my friend Chrstine's blog about how popular your name is and how many other people have it. Statistically, Jennifer is the 21st most popular name in the United States. Of the 1,420,869 people in the US who are named Jennifer, 99.9% are female. Who are these 1,420.9 men named Jennifer, and more importantly, what is wrong with their parents? There are 185 people in the US with my full name - I know for a fact that one of them is a shoe designer. I saw her stuff come up on Google when I searched under my name. I wonder if she is related to Steve Madden. Madden is statistically the 888th most popular last name in the US. Lambert, on the other hand, is statistically the 289th most popular name in the US. 112, 816 people in the US have that last name - most of which are probably made up of my fiance and his siblings ;) Speaking of my fiance, we're getting married in 1 month from today! Let the final countdown begin.

As an update on the cleaning lady, I threw out a banana that was way too ripe for my taste on Friday before I left work. When I came in on Monday, the banana had been taken out of the trash can and placed on my desk. Did she think it accidentally fell off my desk and then hooked 90 degrees to land in the trash can? I am of the opinion that, regardless of personal taste on ripeness of fruit, if it's in the trash can it should be left there. I took the banana into the break room, wrapped it in paper towels, and threw it away in there so that she wouldn't take it out again. I'm so including "not sifting through trash" in my note when I write it... and I'm so close to writing it.

BTW - the banana I threw away looked pretty much like the ones in the picture above.

Point it at Jen, she's hot!

This blog post is going to be kind of a random one. I was at the post office today, when the fire alarm went off and they evacuated the building. It turned out to be a false alarm and they told us we could go back in, and since I needed some stamps pronto, I went back in. Later on I was reading an article on men's fashion (so I can have some ammunition to convince Rob to get rid of the pleated-front pants), and there was a poll in the article of what kind of man in uniform most women like. Firefighter won by a huge margin. I agree that firemen are pretty smokin', no pun intended. So, those two things led me to this blog post.

Back in '98, I was living in the Regency Apartments, just south of BYU campus. It was a Friday night and I was in a lame mood, so I decided to go to bed early. My roommate, Liz, had done the same thing. I had been in bed for probably 2 hours when I heard my bedroom door fly open and smelled something smokey. I bolted up in bed and saw the most surreal image I've ever seen. Silhouetted in the dark, smokey doorway was a huge firefighter in full garb. I honestly thought I was dreaming and that it was the best dream I'd ever had in my life. What girl hasn't dreamt that a firefighter just busted into her bedroom? Anyhoo... I was really groggy and couldn't quite understand what he was saying to me, so he walked closer to me and started to pull me out of my bed. As he was shoving me out into the smokey hallway, he asked me if there was anyone else in the house. I told him that my roommate was asleep in the back bedroom. He told me that our apartment was on fire and that I needed to wake my roommate up. I went back to Liz's room and started shaking her to wake her up. She yelled and hit me, and so the fireman had to come in and get her.

He led us through the smoke-filled kitchen and out the door, where we saw our entire apartment complex staring at us, including our other roommates. The firefighters went back in and started poking around and our roommates filled us in on the situation. They came home and saw smoke coming out of the windows and front door, so they called 911. They didn't know we were home. After a while, this lady firefighter came out and told us it was safe to go back in. It smelled really bad in there, but it was pretty obvious that there hadn't been a fire. The lady started to explain to us that the motor in the furnace had blown out and just caused a lot of smoke to be blown through the vents. Since Liz and I had our doors and vents closed, we didn't smell anything. I guess the fire lady felt like she needed to explain to us how they deduced that there was no fire, so she whipped out her heat sensor and started showing us how they checked all of the walls to make sure the wiring hadn't caught on fire. Nothing happened when she pointed it at the walls. But then she pointed it it a light bulb and the sensor started going crazy with beeping. Liz was still totally asleep, but she said to the lady, "point it at Jen, she's hot." Fire lady didn't think that was funny. Crickets.

After fire lady showed us that every nook and cranny in the apartment was safe, they left and we all went to bed. What is the moral of this story? There isn't one... except that firemen are hot. And apparently, so am I.

P.S. I wouldn't recommend doing an image search for firemen on Google. And especially don't do it at work while people are walking past your desk. The only ones decent enough to post were old man firefighters and children dressed up like firemen.

The cup is either half empty or half full

I'm getting married in 36 days, but that's not what I want to talk about. Back a few posts, I talked about the awesome cleaning lady that came to the house and cleaned up after the roomie got married and moved to Germany. Well, said cleaning lady cleans the office I work at. She's really thorough, and by thorough I mean that she cleans everything on our desks... even things you do not want her to clean. I thought someone was playing an office prank on me by cleaning up the dust bunnies behind my monitor, making my calendar crooked, organizing my pens and papers, and taking my cup off of the desk, washing it and then placing it in the office kitchen cupboard. I thought I was going insane because I would leave my cup on the desk and the next morning it would be in the kitchen ,and since I didn't remember putting it in there, I thought I was for sure losing it. I finally figured out that my desk wasn't the only one that was cleaned/messed with. It was the cleaning lady who was taking my cup back to the kitchen and washing it. Darn her and her niceness!!!

So I thought I'd be OK with her washing the cup, but then one day I came in and my bran muffin from the Provo Bakery, which I had purposely saved in a paper bag from the day before, was gone! Oh, the humanity! I marched right into my boss's office and told her of the crime that had been committed and she said she would leave the cleaning lady a note.

Well, now the cleaning lady doesn't even touch my desk. I left my nail clippers next to my mouse pad, a half empty 32 oz. cup of Diet Dr. Pepper from Maverick, a bunch of papers scattered around, and my beloved turquoise cup sitting on the desk and she didn't do anything. She could have at least put the nail clippers in my drawer and threw away the flat Diet DP Maverick cup. Gosh, I just wanted my turquoise cup to be left alone, and now I'm being neglected altogether.

Maybe I should leave her a nice note that says, "Dear Theresa, " (yes, I know her first name), "Thank you for your thoroughness at cleaning the office. You have somehow managed to rid the office of an unknown stench that has been present since I started working here. You also do a marvelous job at dusting behind the monitors. I appreciate your hard work in keeping the bathroom mold-free. I have a few requests... can you please replace the soap in the bathroom with something like Sweet Pea scented anti-bacterial moisturizing hand soap from Bath & Body Works? They're on sale 5 for $15 right now. Also, I would really appreciate it if you would clean my desk, but please keep your paws off my bran muffins and my turquoise cup. Nail clippers and 32oz. half-empty Maverick cups are not on the exception list. Yours truly, JMadd."

I guess one can't have their cake and eat it, too. But I'm still thinking about writing her that note.

Living Alone

I was reading an article on MSN by the girl who plays Kelly Kapoor on "The Office" this morning and it was about living alone. You can check it out here if you want to: http://lifestyle.msn.com/your-life/bigger-picture/articlemc.aspx?cp-documentid=9128041&GT1=32001. I thought that I could blog about living alone, since I feel like I've been living alone pretty much this whole summer, and will live alone for 3 weeks before Rob and I enter into nuptual bliss. I need to emphasize that, although I am moving into the condo currently occupied by Rob, he and I will not be co-habitating during the 3 weeks that I will be living there before the wedding. There seems to be a lot of confusion surrounding that, so I thought I'd clear it up once and for all!

So, Mindy, aka Kelly Kapoor, says that she got so scared one night in her bed that she actually wet the bed. If she had been living with someone, maybe she wouldn't have been so scared and then wouldn't have wet her bed. I say that it was good that she was alone, so that no one would have to know that she peed in bed. Once, I had a dream that I was going to the bathroom, only to wake up and realize that I was really going to the bathroom... in my bed. Trying to explain to my roommate why I was changing my sheets in the middle of the night was embarrassing.

While we're on the theme of potty talk, living alone has its advantages when you run out of toilet paper or forget to bring a towel into the bathroom with you. You can streak to the hall closet without anyone else seeing you... unless, of course, your roommate left the blinds wide open in her bedroom and you run past the window. True story.

Sometimes I get scared while I'm in the house alone. I have this internal dialogue every night before I go to bed on whether I should sleep with my bedroom door open or shut. If I leave it shut, I might not be able to hear someone breaking into the house, and therefore, would not be able to hide somewhere or call 911 in time. On the flip side, If I leave the door open I would be more vulnerable to a possible attack if they sneak into my bedroom. If the door were shut I could have time to grab a high-heeled boot or nail clippers to defend myself before they open the door. I really do think about this every night.

I can be as sloppy as I want to be when I'm by myself. I don't have to do my dishes until I run out of clean ones. I don't have to pick my hair up off the bathroom counter if I don't want to, I can leave my shoes wherever I want to, and I can leave the shampoo bottle I dropped in the shower just sitting on the floor of the tub until I want to bend over and get it. And then I hear my mother's voice in my head, saying things like, "cleanliness is next to Godliness," and "the Spirit cannot dwell in unclean places," and "always wear nice underwear, even though no one is going to see it, because you just never know." I'm beginning to wonder why I even bother with the nice underwear thing, because no one has seen my underpants. But I keep hearing "you just never know...."

Another thing about living alone is that I can take my sweet time in the shower, and I can even sing Umbrella as loud as I want to while I am lathering, rinsing and repeating. I could never sing Umbrella in anyone else's presence because it is just embarrasing... "You can stand under my umbrella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh, under my umbrella...."

And even better than singing, I can watch all sorts of socially unacceptable things on TV, like Ice Road Truckers, Dawg the Bounty Hunter, My Super Sweet Sixteen, Hanna Montana, and Rob and Big.

I also become suspicious of everyone and everything when I am living alone. One might say I become paranoid. The recluse neighbor suddenly becomes a creepy old man, a la Ted Kaczynski, who makes bombs and is getting ready to blow something up. Ice dropping in the ice maker is someone trying to break in through the sliding glass door, and my Jack Bauer alarm clock is really Jack Bauer, in my house, about to torture me with the frayed ends of a lamp cord. Scary!

Am I going to miss living alone? Probably not. I might miss Ice Road Truckers, but I'll get over it when I roll over in bed at night and see a 6'2", 225 lb (I hope he's not sensitive about anyone knowing his weight) man who could crush any intruders with a swift kick to the groin area in .5 seconds flat. I'm gonna love that part.

Not hard to believe!

What is this world coming to?

Chlorinated Chicken???

I read an article today that talked about European sanctions on chlorinated chicken imported form the US. Um, what? I didn't know that chicken was chlorinated. The article stated that the sanctions aren't so much about the safety of the chicken, but more about the taste. In a taste test group, chlorinated chicken and non-chlorinated chicken taste the same initially, but once re-heated the chlorinated chicken has a more "re-heated" taste. So if this isn't grossing you out enough already, the article then talked about why and how chicken is chlorinated. Back in the 1990's when there were a lot of e. Coli breakouts, the FDA decided that after killing, plucking, and gutting the chickens that they should be soaked in big vats of freezing cold water mized with chlorine to keep bacteria from growing or cross-contamination.

So, this entire week I have been smelling chlorine whenever I turn on the shower or the bathroom sink. At first I thought that my roommate cleaned with bleach, but that smell should go away after a day at the most. I grew up in LA and smelling a little chlorine in the water was par for the course, but this water smelled like someone dumped a bottle.. nay, several bottles... of Clorox into the water supply. Other than it smelling bad, I didn't think anything about bathing in it or drinking until I read this statement from the above mentioned article:

"That distinctive pool smell usually attributed to chlorine is actually produced by the combination of chlorine and perspiration, body oils, and urine."

Gag me with a spoon!!! Urine??? Needless to say, I'm pretty sicked out.

I guess it brings a whole new meaning to "European."

Mash Game: Predict Your Future at eSPIN-the-Bottle

		I will marry Robert.
		After a wild honeymoon, We will settle down in Los Angeles, CA in our fabulous House.
		We will have 22 kid(s) together.
		Our family will zoom around in a Silver Honda Civic.
		I will spend my days as a Being Fabulous, and live happily ever after.

While the Cat's Away...

I watched TV. I haven't watched TV pretty much since Rob and I started dating because who needs TV when you have all sorts of other entertaining stuff going on in life? The fiance is away at Scout Camp this week, and so last night I sat down in front of the tube and watched a little "John and Kate + Eight" and then I watched my favorite movie, "She's the Man." I love that movie! I get all of my lines from that movie because I have decided that there is a line that fits every circumstance and situation in life. I fought against watching it when it first came out because I thought it was going to be a stupid teeny-bopper movie but then I was on a flight from London to SLC and it was the in-flight movie and I wasn't tired so I watched it. I laughed so hard (silently because people were sleeping) that my shaking woke up the lady in the seat next to me. Anyhoo, my point is that I miss watching TV. I know that most of it is crap, but I feel incredibly unhip because I'm not connected to pop culture right now. I haven't watched "Best Week Ever" in several months and I'm lost on what "IV Real" means on SYTYCD. But then again, when I don't watch it I don't miss it. Maybe after the wedding, when things settle down and Rob is in class for hours every night, I'll be able to get my hipness back and be able to contribute something meaningful to the conversation at the office potlucks.

In other news, I got a creepy comment from some wierdo on one of my blog posts. I felt really violated, like a Peeping Tom had been watching me through the window or like someone had read my most personal journal entries and then broke into my house and raided my fridge, looked through my drawers, used my toothbrush, wore my shoes, and slept in my bed. I know that when you put things out on the Internet that it's available to anyone and everyone, but I don't want pervs reading my blog and I especially don't want them leaving comments like they "know" me. There are people who I have never met personally that read my blog, but because they know people I know I am perfectly OK with them reading. I am not OK with a girl named "Rachie" from New York reading my blog and then leaving a smart a** comment. How dare she! Obviously, I deleted it. I hate it when people do this, but I may have to go private. I feel that violated and wonder who else reads my blog. I'll let everyone know for sure if I do go private so that I can send invites to all of my loyal readers.

I think I forgot to put mascara on this morning... but I got to see Chit Chatt's baby and she is presh! Other than my own future offspring, she is one of the most attractive babies ever. She doesn't have facial hair, zits or dandruff (sorry if your baby did) and even when she cries she's all delicate and girly about it. I definitely think she's going to be a cheerleader or a model or something. Most babies are cute, but she's really beautiful and nice to look at. There is a couple in my ward who has a baby boy who looks like a cross between Eddie Munster and a really hairy Tony Soprano. There's nothing worse than a swarthy newborn with sideburns and a unibrow. I was sitting in back of them a while ago and the mom put him over her shoulder and when I saw his face I flinched. How unfortunate. His parents aren't super models by any means, but they're definitely not ugly so I wonder where he got his rugged bad looks. I just hope he turns out to be like a fine cheese or wine and gets better with age. I hope I don't get struck by lightning or get cursed with a hersute, acne-prone, dandruffy baby because I said bad things about the ugly baby; however, I think that Rob and I are going to produce some fine chilluns. We were both cute babies, and I think most people's children look like the parents did when they were babies. My nephew looked just like my sister did when she was born and Chit Chatt numero dos looks like Chit Chatt numero uno did when she was a baby. I'm just going to cross my fingers anyway, because I don't want karma to come back to bite me.

Stuff White People Like

I'm a nerd, I realize this. So, if you are sensitive to nerdiness, please be warned that this post is going to be chock-full of it and feel free to exit early.

My friends, Katie and Marc, introduced me to this site called "Stuff White People Like," and then my friend Mallory (who is only half-white) told me about it and I have been addicted ever since. I think one of the reasons that Mallory likes this site it because one of the things that white people like is Asian girls, and she is part Asian. I digress...

I visited this site today to see if there had been any further updates since I last checked and had an awesome idea while I was reading it. I am going to be a "Stuff White People Like" white person for Halloween. I am going to come up with a costume that represents the most "white" person I can come up with, one that includes all of the stereotypes like driving a Prius, buying only organic food, wearing a scarf, an old sweater and running shoes, talking about San Francisco, eating an expensive sandwich, remembering my days being "poor," etc. I'm looking for ideas, so if you have any please post them.

This is the post that inspired me http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/2008/06/27/104-girls-with-bangs/. I am a white girl, and I have been known to wear my bangs straight down before. Here is a little snapshot of the post:

"If you see a white woman and you are trying to figure out whether she is liked or just merely tolerated by white people, the best thing you can do is get a quick look at her haircut. It is a known fact that white people love women who wear their hair with bangs that hang straight down... When you are introduced to a group of white people, it’s a good idea to befriend the girl with the bangs. She’s probably the most popular." Classic!

Dance Dance Revolution

I stink at Dance Dance Revolution! I got my butt kicked by a 9 months pregnant lady. I am either terribly uncoordinated, or she is the most coordinated, balanced pregnant lady in the world. She beat her husband, too, so I don't feel all that bad. I've only been able to beat 2 other people, one of them being my 5 year old nephew who just kind of jumped around on the mat. I guess I better give up my dream of being on SYTYCD. I'm also bad at Guitar Hero, so I guess being in a band is out, too. One of my younger friends tells me not to worry about it, that I'm not good at these games because I was too old when Nintendo came out, so I'm not really from the video game generation. I was in the Nintendo generation, but I had better things to do like make hair scrunchies, friendship bracelets and practice french braiding my hair. If they come up with a Wii game that involves one of those three activities, I'm all over it.

Another Tag

This "tag" sounds like fun. Here's how to play:
1. As a comment on my blog, leave one memory that you and I had together.
2. Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you. It's actually pretty funny to see the responses. If you leave a memory about me, I'll assume you're playing the game and I'll come to your blog and leave one about you. If you don't want to play on your blog, or if you don't have a blog, I'll leave my memory of you in my comments.

West Side Story

The west side of SLC is scary... really scary. I had to go up there for a wedding dinner last night and I got off the freeway at the wrong exit and had to circle back. I have never been so scared for my life before... not even in Compton.

In my experience, the west side of town is usually better and nicer (I grew up on the west side) and never scary. Let's just say that the west side of SLC is nothing like the west side of LA. I saw a man with a wife beater tan line sitting on his porch last night. And he had on long shorts and really high socks. I think you get the picture of what kind of neighborhood it is. If you can avoid it, please do.

Gratitude Post

I'm taking a cue from my friend, Katie, and writing about some things I'm grateful for since I feel like I've done a whole bunch of complaining posts lately. I am grateful for:

1) Fingernails - I dropped a tuna lid in the drain today and my fingernails were the only thing that could pry it out

2) Band-Aids - I sliced my finger open while loading the dishwasher and the Band-Aid brand flexible fabric bandage came in handy

3) Water - I love my morning shower!

4) That there are only 67 days left until I get married

5) That I'm even getting married

6) That I'm marrying a wonderful man who loves me mucho

7) That I'm marrying a man that I love mucho

8) My nephew - he is such a positive little guy, even though he split his lip clear up to his nose, he can still find something positive about the situation

9) Senior citizens - they know a lot of stuff and have been through even more and they can share their lessons with us younger folk

10) Good friends

Special K Red Berries. Yum?

I like Special K with Red Berries. It is more substantive than normal Special K, and the berries add a nice color to my morning meal. You have to let the berries soak up a little milk before they become palatable, but all-in-all, I like the red berries. I poured myself a big bowl this morning and started to eat, when all of a sudden, I bit into a rotten red berry! It pretty much ruined my morning and gave me a nasty taste in my mouth. I don't think I can support Special K with Red Berries anymore. I'll have to switch to another type of Special K, but not the chocolate Special K because it's not real chocolate, and who would put chocolate chips, even the real ones, in cereal? It seems unnatural to me. I'm also not partial to the Fruit & Yogurt variety of Special K. I'm going to have to stick to the Vanilla & Almond variety.

So, Special K has a claim that if you eat 2 bowls of Special K a day and then eat a sensible dinner, that you will lose however many inches off your waist in a 2 week period. Of course you will, because you'll starve yourself! I'm hungry 45 minutes after eating a bowl of special K.

Thanks, loyal readers, for indulging me whilst I get my Special K ranting off my chest. As Chit Chatt's mom would say, I ought to write a letter to someone at Kellog's to let them know about my rotten berry instead of telling all of you, who can't do anything about it. But, this is much more fun and I know that at least one person will read this complaint as opposed to no one at Kellog's. And if they do read it, they'll probably just send me a coupon for some free Special K with Red Berries. I guess if a box of Special K is cheaper than a gallon of gas, I should be grateful that the whole lot of berries in my cereal wasn't rotten.

I want to get me one of those

My roommate got married and moved out last week and since she was under such a time crunch to get out, the company that her husband works for (which happens to be the same one I work for) paid for a house cleaner to come clean her room and bathroom. The lady did an awesome job, and she was quick, and the house smelled all nice and clean afterward. Not hotel or office building chemical clean, but actual clean. This lady even cleaned the blinds and the baseboards! I figured that since my roommate was known to use the kitchen from time to time, and spilled hot wax on the floor that hasn't ever come off, that I could throw the floor into the mix of things the maid was going to clean. Don't worry, I asked my boss for permission before I told the lady to clean it. I was amazed... no wax, no potting soil ground into the floor, and no plant leaves all over the place. It was like heaven. A nice, bright, clean heaven.

So I've decided I need a maid - one like Alice from the Brady Bunch, except I won't make her wear a uniform and I don't really want her living at my house... or cooking me dinner and folding my undies. I want her to be like a pixie or a brownie, coming when I'm asleep or not home, doing good deeds and cleaning my house without me even knowing. And if it could all be free, that would be even better. But alas, reality sets in and I know that having a maid is something that's reserved for the rich and famous... or my friend Mallory.

Even though I know I cannot afford to hire a maid to do all of my cleaning, I'm beginning to think it might not be a bad idea to hire someone to come clean the condo after I move out in August and to clean Rob's condo before I move in. For a bachelor, he's pretty clean... but he's still a bachelor, and he currently has a bachelor roommate who does not like to do dishes, which makes me wonder what else he doesn't like to clean. Anyway, I just think it would be a good idea to hire a professional to do the place up right so that we can start our married life off in a

white-glove kind of clean house. And that way when my mom comes to help the week before the wedding, her OCD need to clean stuff won't kick in and she can help with more important things. I'm just really feeling the need to rationalize getting a maid to do my cleaning, so I hope that Rob will read this and be convinced by my rationalizing and let me get a lady to come clean.

Caught between a rock and a hard place

I've been feeling sick to my stomach ever since lunchtime. I guess it could be that I ate something that didn't agree with me, but more likely it's because I just filled my car up with gas and it cost me $60.01. In the grand scheme of things, $60.01 isn't a lot when compared to the price of a house or a nose job, but when I compare it to the cost of a lot of other things I start to feel ill. Especially when I consider that I could be putting that $60 toward some wedding costs. It is 15% of the remaining balance of my wedding dress. It could buy almost one place setting of china from my gift registry. I could get my hair cut and colored for the same amount, and it would last substantially longer. The list goes on, and I should probably stop complaining since the person that pumped before me left their receipt and I saw that they spent $97.29. And I thought that buying a sporty Korean family sedan would save me money. Who knew?

Tagged... Brought to You by the Number 5

Things I did today:
1) Woke up at 5:15 am to Billy Joel's "Uptown Girl" playing loudly in some part of my house (not happy).
2) Ran out of clean towels, so I did a load of laundry when I woke up at 5:15 am.
3) Worked hard to finish stuff up at work before the end of the month.
4) Plan on going to the gym after work.
5) Plan on spending quality time with my honey after the gym.

Snacks I enjoy:
1) Smoked gouda with apples ("Gouda's my favorite!").
2) Hummus on crackers
3) Almonds
4) Churros
5) Carrots

Five things I would do if I suddenly became a billionaire:
1) Pay off debt.
2) Buy a huge, awesome house that cleans itself.
3) Travel the world.
4) Invest it in property and buy stock in companies like Pepsi because, apparently, Pepsi is very big in China, and China is where it's at.
5) Donate some to charity.

Five places I've lived:
1) Los Angeles, CA
2) Provo, UT
3) Dusseldorf, Germany (but only temporarily for work)
4) Don't have a 4th
5) Don't have a 5th

Five jobs I've held:
1) Office assistant for an oral surgeon (gross!)
2) Custodial at BYU's Heritage Halls
3) Jamba Juice
4) Nanny
5) Too many more to list

Five things people don't know about me:
1) I like the smell of skunk.
2) Back in the day when 21 Jump Street was all the rage, I planned to marry Johnny Depp.
3) I love the 80s and sometimes wish we could go back. Ronald Reagan was president, gas was cheap, and hair was big. Good times.
4) I wish I were bootylicious like Beyonce.
5) There was this one time, I stayed up way past midnight.

Five people I tag:
1) Mal
2) Chit Chatt
3) Forever Laym
4) Tenth in line
5) Melissa

Just get me to the church... er, temple... on time!

The post you've all been waiting for. It finally happened, Rob and I are getting married!!! And I've got the pictures to prove it. We went to LA over the weekend so that Rob could meet my parents and ask my dad if he could marry me. I was so worried that my family wouldn't like him, but more worried that he wouldn't like them. We're kind of a weird bunch, so I thought it likely that he might just run in the other direction when he met them. I couldn't be more pleased that my family likes him and he likes them. My nephew especially likes him. All weekend he kept asking me if Robert was going to be part of the family and if Robert was going to be his uncle. Last night before he went to bed he gave me a hug and then went over to Robert and gave him a hug and said "I'll miss you." I guess he's not going to miss me. He better remember what side his bread is buttered on if he knows what's good for him.

I was really worried for Robert to talk to my dad, so I gave him every possible scenario before we went to LA. I was surprised, but not surprised at my dad's answer. "She's old enough to make her own decisions. Actually, it's probably better because she'll be your problem now." Gotta love dads. But seriously, that's just my dad's way of doing things. All weekend I wasn't quite sure what he was thinking. He finally told me last night that he was happy for me. And of course my mom is excited.

Since I was expecting the proposal this weekend, I was going over every possibility in my head. My first guess was that he would do it at the beach but he didn't seem to be fidgety or weird while we were there, and I felt like he had multiple opportunities to have already done it, so I started thinking he would do it at the Griffith Park Observatory. Right as the sun was almost completely behind the Malibu part of the Santa Monica Bay, he turned his back to me, but I still wasn't thinking he would do it then. All of a sudden, he was on one knee asking me to marry him. He'll say that I answered before he even asked, but he's full of it - I waited for the full question. I got really embarrased because there were a lot of people on the beach that night due to the blazing hot weather over the weekend. As I looked around, I noticed that no one was even paying attention.

Life is great now that I am engaged... there's a lot of pressure off because now I can talk about it and make plans freely; however, I've noticed that everyone has come out of the woodwork with suggestions for how we should do the wedding. It's nice that everyone wants to help, but a little overwhelming, too. I'm going to try really hard not to be a bridezilla. If I am, please forgive me and know that I'll be back to normal by September.

I've always heard that when you meet the right one that things just fall into place... and they have. I feel really blessed to be marrying such a wonderful man and am looking forward to a great life with him. He's pretty great!

TGIF... sort of

Friday afternoons from about 2pm to 5pm are the worst time ever!!! Especially on the Fridays where we have a company potluck and we all just sit around eating lunch, leaning back in our chairs and telling cat stories. We really did that today. I heard some scary cat stories, which are making me feel totally not jazzed about having a cat as a pet. I did hear that spray bottles are indespensible and you can put your cat in "time out" if it is naughty. Sounds like good times. I digress... my point is that it is hard to work when you have a full belly and you've been sitting around for 90 minutes just shootin' the breeze. I think that we should just be able to go home after occasions such as this.

We all went back to our desks around 2, and I was really dreading getting back to work, when I opened up MSN.com and saw that Tim Russert, of "Meet the Press" fame, died today. I announced it, figuring that we could spend at least 15-20 minutes discussing the event, but all I got was "who's that?" and "hmm, that's sad." Dang it! I guess I tried.

People around this place have too good of a work ethic. I miss the old Symantec days where the office cleared out around 2, and anyone left after that was either a sucker or worked in Sales Support - I exclude all of you SSC peeps from the "sucker" category because I realize that you just don't have the option of leaving early. One time, I left work early and decided to catch an afternoon matinee and ran into the CFO. He didn't say "why are you at the movie at 3pm when you should still be at work." He was like, "hey, nice to see you here. What show are you here to see? Well, awesome! You'll have to tell me about it on Monday." People at Connect PR stay late on Friday. I'm not down with that. And I feel guilty for not staying late just because there are a lot of people who do. Overachievers, all of them!!!

So, this is my pity party. I hate Friday afternoons, blah, blah, blah. If you'd like to join, I have one every Friday afternoon from 2-5pm. Same Bat time, same Bat channel.

P.S. I made Martha Stewart's Creamy Lemon Squares for the potluck today. I have one word... notworthit. That's all one word.

I'd like to order a BLT... hold the T

I don't like tomatoes. I've never liked tomatoes. I have ordered a BLT minus the T, which has often brought on a few funny looks from restaurant servers, but what do I care? It's not like I'm ordering a cheeseburger without the cheese, because that would just be a hamburger. Since there's no BL option, I have to order a BLT minus the T. I've actually been kind of happy with the ban on tomatoes because when I order food that normally has tomatoes on it I don't have to tell the server that I don't want the tomato. If there are no tomatoes, I don't have to refuse them.

And what's with restaurants thinking that because you don't want tomato that you must want extra onions? Is there a height requirement on sandwiches and burgers that is breached when you take out a tomato? I went to lunch at a friend's house today and we decided that we would get Subway sandwiches since the footlongs are only $5 - such a deal, and there were so many onions on them that my eyes were watering from the next room. So not only do I have to ask for no tomato, I have to ask that they don't put extra onions on because I've asked for no tomato. And the cycle continues because if you ask for no tomato and limited onions, they put more pickles on. I guess I just can't win.

I blame my parents, of course, for my dislike of tomatoes. They would make me go out to the garden and pick tomatoes for our salads every single night, and there were worms on the plants. I'm not down with worms. It must have had a psychological impact on me, seeing the worms, and not wanting to eat the tomatoes. You may be wondering if I stay away from all tomatoes. No. I like tomato products, just not raw tomatoes... unless they're cut up real small and I can't taste them and I can't feel the slimy texture.

So I know that some of you will read this post and you're going to comment on how it's "un-American" to not like tomatoes. I have this to say to you: "brownies and mushrooms."

Since I'm talking about foods I don't like, I might as well add milk to the mix. I love me some dairy products, but there is nothing that grosses me out more than a glass of milk unaccompanied by peanut butter, chocolate, cake, or cookies. I like to drink milk with cookies, cake, brownies and peanut butter sandwiches, but I have to carefully meter the amount of milk-to-bite so that I don't run out of bites before the milk is gone. That's just how it works for me. I do eat milk with my cereal, so I'm not totally weird.

I know that this is a pretty lame post, but someone reminded me today that I haven't posted in a week, so I thought I should grace my precious readers with a little tid-bit. As soon as I have something more awesome to write about, I will.

A lot of you have also been asking for pictures of me and my beau. Here's the sitch... in the pictures that we've taken, either he looks good and I don't or I look good and he doesn't. So, naturally, I can't post any pictures that don't make me look good. I would never do that to myself. And I don't want to post any pictures where he doesn't look good because I need everyone to see how really, really, ridiculously good looking he is. So, until we both decide to be photogenic on the same day, you won't be seeing any pictures. He really does exist, I promise!

ABCs of Jenny from the Block

A- Attached or Single? Attached

B- Best Friend? Mom and Robyn (Robert is ascending the ladder)

C- Cake or Pie? Chocolate cake

D- Day of Choice? Friday

E- Essential Item? Burt's Bees Lip Balm

F- Favorite Color? Pink

G- Gummy Bears or Worms? Gummy Bears

H- Hometown? Los Angeles

I- Favorite Indulgence? Mani/pedis

J- January or July? January - I'd much rather be cold than hot. You can always put more clothes on, but only so many you can take off.

K- Kids? None right now.

L- Life isn't complete without? The gospel... and Barefoot Contessa

M- Marriage date? I don't know

N- Number of brothers and sisters? 3 sisters

O- Oranges or Apples? Apples

P- Phobias and Fears? Snakes and never getting married or having children

R- Reason to smile? Life - I am so blessed in so many ways!

S- Season of choice? Fall - not too hot, not too cold, all you need is a light jacket.

T- Tag three people? Awallz, Chit Chatt, Forever Laym

U- Unknown fact about me? My IQ is 113 - very average

V- Vegetable? Carrots

W- Worst Habit? Leaving my dirty clothes on the floor

X-ray or Ultrasound? X-rays are a lot less messy

Y- Your favorite food? Chocolate

Z- Zodiac Sign? Aquarius

The Host

Has anyone read it yet? I started reading on Friday night, but I'm having a slightly hard time getting into it. I think I need some encouragement.

And, her eye is freaky.