The Truth About Hillbillies

Here's what happened with the cussing Hillbillies...

I was driving down Freedom Blvd, when out of nowhere this old, nasty truck with a bunch of branches and sticks in the back swings in front of me and then slams on its breaks. If you ever watched that show "Sanford & Son" from the 80's, this truck looked like it belonged in that show. So I have to follow this truck for a while because the cars in the other lanes are actually going the speed limit and I have to wait before I can pass.

My chance comes, so I start to pass. Of course I had to let this driver know of my disapproval and take the chance to educate him on his offense. As I looked up to give my stank eye, I saw that there were two guys in the cab, both browned and wrinkled by excessive sun exposure. They were wearing hats with beer logos on them and overalls with plaid shirts underneath. And I believe that they only had 7 teeth between the two of them. I caught the passenger's eye and proceeded to adminster the stank. I think he called my stank and raised me 2 because once I got in front of him and his buddy, they stayed on my tail. I watched them in my rear-view mirror change lanes when I did and turn when I did. Once I figured out they were following me, I thought "I can't go to my house because they may harm me there." I tried to lose them, driving erratically, changing lanes quickly, speeding up, and taking them in circles. I decided I needed to go somewhere public because I figured they would just leave me alone. I pulled into the Macey's parking lot and got a space right up in the front where there would be multiple witnesses if something were to happen.

I got out of the car and they drove by and called me a bad word. And then they drove off. I went into the store and saw my friend Donald so I stayed and talked to him for a while just to make sure they were gone. And then I figured since the bank was inside the grocery store, I might as well take care of some business there. I made good and sure that the hillbillies were gone before I came out and then high-tailed it out of there just in case they were hiding in wait for me.

Breakfast of Champions

When I was roommates with my friend Katie, we would do this thing called "Breakfast of Champions." I'd run out of the house in the morning with a Diet Coke and some Fritos and say "breakfast of champions," as I was shutting the door. And then maybe the next day she'd have some leftover pizza or something like that and she'd say "breakfast of champions," as she was eating. Somehow, my breakfast of champions always invloved Diet Coke. Anyway, gourmet food isn't exactly a priority when you're in college and only when you get older and wiser do you think to yourself, "maybe my breakfast routine shouldn't include Diet Coke and leftover take-out." I've been pretty good since then about eating actual breakfast foods for breakfast, with the exception of chocolate cake if it's available. Thank goodness those occasions are rare.

This morning I poured some wholesome Cheerios into my bowl and then remembered that I didn't buy any milk for myself at the grocery store on Saturday. I bought some whole milk for my husband, but since we are going out of town this week, I skipped buying any 1% for me. I thought about using the whole milk, but could feel my arteries clog just thinking about it, so I put my Cheerios back in the bowl and investigated the fridge for something else to eat. I saw some frosting, leftover trout from Red Lobster, cheese, ranch dressing, radishes, and potatoes, carrots and cabbage leftover from our family dinner last night. I chose the cabbage and potatoes. What was I thinking? I took one bite and changed my mind. I've eaten a lot of crappy stuff for breakfast before, but this was just too much - even for a breakfast of champions!

So I went with some Fig Newtons instead. Afterall, "they're not cookies mother, they're Newtons."

Lessons Learned

If you get cut off on the road by some Hillbillies, don't give them the stank eye when you speed up and pass them. They will follow you into the grocery store parking lot and cuss at you.

Lady, Your Door is Open!

That's what this guy said to me because my door dinger wouldn't stop dinging while I was in a drive-thru. You know, the door dinger thingy that dings when your seatbelt isn't on or the door is open. The thing is, my door was closed and my seatbelt was on. It started a few months ago whenever I would turn a corner or any weight would be put on the door. You could set the dinger off by pressing your leg against the door. I kept telling myself I was going to take it into the shop to get looked at, but 3 months later I hadn't. And then one day I was going to Wal-Mart and the dinger dinged the entire way there, even with me holding the door closed with one hand and driving with the other. I just learned to live with it, but the Robster on the other hand, didn't know that the dinger dinged incessantly, so he was in for a shock one day while he was driving my car. In case you don't remember, my car is named Uncle Jesse. I was going to say something about Uncle Jesse and his dinger, but it just doesn't sound quite right. Anyhoo, the Robster said he was going to fix it for me.
Now that's what I call a 2 cent fix! I guess the sensor just wasn't quite getting touched by the door and needed some extra height. I know it's jerry-rigged and all, but that's just about the most genius thing I've ever seen. And now the dinger doesn't ding when I turn a corner.

I can't hear what you're sayin', young lady!

Today at work I was calling TV stations to find out who their health/medicine producer was for the morning TV news shows. I call Good Morning America, they put me right through. The Today Show put me through even quicker. NBC in Dallas - not as good of an experience. An elderly gentleman answered and he spoke pretty fast, but I thought I heard "NBC and Univision" somewhere in there. So I ask him if there is a health editor or producer for the morning news and he says "I can't hear what you're sayin', young lady." So I moved the receiver a little closer to my mouth and spoke a little louder. I also tried to annunciate a little better. He still didn't understand what I was saying. So I started getting louder and he says, "are you lookin' for a health clinic?" After about the 4th time of me telling him what I wanted, I finally thought to myself that maybe I had called the wrong place so I asked "is this a TV station?" He answers, "well that's what I said in the first place, now how can I help you?" So I asked my question again and he says "young lady, I really don't know what you're talkin' about. Do you need some sort of service?" At this point I was frustrated beyong belief, so I started explaining what a producer was and he says, "oh, you wanna speak to someone in the newsroom?" Yes, I want to speak to someone in the news room. The irony in this whole story is that the client I was calling on behalf of makes hearing aids.

Courage, Confidence, Character

I was once a Girl Scout, so I feel obligated to purchase their goods when they come a knockin'. In fact, I purchased 9 of what they were selling only to find out that my husband also purchased at least that amount - maybe more. Between the two of us, we purchased around 20 boxes of Girl Scout cookies. I'm slightly embarassed by this fact. But only slightly. Because afterall, my purchase promotes financial skills such as goal setting, decision-making, customer service and money management. Now I'm just questioning who's financial skills it promotes because I pretty much blew my goal of not eating junk food, made poor decisions in only getting 3 boxes of Samoas instead of 4, and definitely didn't manage my money when I purchased $32 worth of cookies. But hey, at least I'm instilling courage, confidence and character in some little Girl Scout, somewhere. So what if I'm 32 lbs. heavier and $32 poorer.

Help a Sistah Out!

Sometimes you really need some McNuggets.

Descriptors

When I married my husband, I moved into a new neighborhood and I am still trying to get to know people. In our church congregation, we have a lot of different kinds of people of different ages, backgrounds, cultures, etc. As one guy in church said yesterday, "we have the darkest, lushest berries like myself, and the whitest of the coconut puffs in our congregation." He must have been talking about my husband when he said "whitest of the coconut puffs." Anyway, we have a lot of different people in our ward. The best way to meet people is by going to church, obviously, but also through the visiting and home teaching programs. Each month I have 2 women come visit me, and 2 men come to visit me and my husband. And in turn, I go visit 3 women each month and my husband visits 3 families. I have also been priveleged to have a visit by the Relief Society Presidency, and they told me all sorts of stuff about people in the ward. All of it good, of course, but what I noticed was the way they described people.

For instance, there is a woman in the ward who has Alzheimer's Disease. Because of this, she sits in the same seat every Sunday to avoid any confusion. That's how I know who she is because she always sits in the same spot, and always wears the same dress. I don't know why she always wears the same dress, but that's neither here nor there. So, someone was talking about her and immediately they said, "oh, you know, she's the very large woman in the ward." Another person said something about her and preluded it with, "she's the larger woman who sits in the front row." Why do people do that? Why do we always pick their most unattractive feature to describe them? All they had to say was, "she always sits in the front row," and I would have known who they were talking about.

Do we do this because sometimes the most unattractive feature is the most obvious? I wonder what people say about me. "Oh, you know, she's the one with the really narrow nose," or "she's the one with the fat arms." Since I have become aware of this, I have tried really hard to pick nice features to describe people, or to describe them by who they're related to or what they do. I don't have a solution for the problem, but I wonder what other people's experiences have been. And I know that I'm not perfect. I have been known to describe someone as "having 80s hair," and everyone knew who I was talking about. What do you guys think? Any experiences you want to share?

From Here to Eternity

I’ll admit that most of my friends have the same beliefs and values that I have. It’s not that I don’t like diversity, but when you live in Utah County, the majority of people you associate with every day are Latter-day Saints. Since I moved away from Los Angeles, I’ve lost touch with a lot of the friends I had when I was younger, and thus lost a lot of the diversity that I really enjoyed in my friends. I’ve since been finding a lot of these old friends on Facebook, and it has been really neat to see how their lives have evolved and what they’re up to these days.

One thing I have noticed is that even though we’re all very different, essentially, we want the same things in life; however, I have also noticed that they have all mentioned at one time or another that they’re terrified of dying. I am not terrified of it. Do I want to die? Not yet, but I do know that we all have a time, but that death isn’t the end of things. I am grateful for the plan that Heavenly Father has for his children to return to him, and for families to be together forever.

Last week I received the news that an acquaintance of mine had passed away. He was my age, 32, which got me thinking a lot about my own mortality. Did I really believe what I professed to?
My husband and I attended the funeral, which I don’t know if I would have since he was not a close friend, but I know his older brother quite well and I felt that I should go to show my love and support for the family. I can say that I was expecting it to be quite sad. I had never attended a funeral for a young person, so I really expected there to be weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth. But what I experienced, and what I feel that others experienced, was a sense of peace of also a strengthening of my belief that death isn’t the end.

This young man died unexpectedly, and his sister said that the family still doesn’t know the scientific reason for his death. They did know that he had been experiencing a decreased lung capacity since an accident a few years ago, and that he’d had a cold and strep recently, but that they didn’t know why he passed away. She then said that the family had done a lot of prayer and meditation after his passing to try to understand why someone so young had been taken from this earth. All of his siblings and parents were able to speak at the funeral and they all expressed that they felt peace that it was just Chris’ time to go. His sister and mother read sections from his patriarchal blessing , a special blessing given in my church by a man called a Patriarch, who has been chosen and ordained to this calling. “This blessing enumerates the blessings and promises, some special, others general, to which… the person is entitled; and through his authority seals them upon him, so that they may be his forever through faithfulness” (Boyd K. Packer, October General Conference, 2002). In this young man’s blessing, he was promised that his days on the earth would be long enough for him to accomplish what he needed to do to return to his Heavenly Father with honor. He was also promised that until his work was done on the earth, he would be protected and kept safe, and that his passing from this life to the next would be peaceful. Those words gave his family comfort, and they truly know that Chris’ work on the earth was completed.

I felt, through the promptings of the Holy Ghost, that this was true. I also felt the Holy Ghost remind me that I do actually believe what I profess to. I know that God lives, and that he gave his son, Jesus Christ, to us as a Savior so that we could return to live with him one day. I also know that families can be together forever. Chris will be with his family again because of the sealing powers of the priesthood. I am very grateful to be sealed to my dear husband and that when this life is over, we, along with our children and other family members, will be together.
Not only did I leave the funeral with a peace and comfort that this life is not the end, but I felt comforted in knowing that Heavenly Father is in charge. My life is in his hands and he can and will make of me more than I ever could. I also left with a greater resolve to make every day count - to try to be the best I can be and to live as Christ did.

“I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live:
“And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die” (John 11:25-26).

It's What I've Been Sayin' All Along

Remeber when I posted about my nail salon experiences? I saw these pictures on a blog about passive-aggressiveness, and I had to laugh because it's so funny that someone put that on their sign. It's almost like they should all say that, because if I can't get my nails professionally done by Asians, I don't want them done at all.

Influenza: The Gift That Keeps on Giving

When I was single, I thought that holidays would automatically be better once I was married because I'd have someone to spend them with. I'd have someone to kiss me at the stroke of midnight on New Year's Eve, someone who would send me flowers on Valentine's Day, and someone to decorate eggs with at Easter. Boy, was I wrong! Rob fell asleep at 10 pm on New Year's Eve and was sick in bed this entire weekend. And when I say "sick in bed," I mean just that. He slept the entire weekend, only getting up to use the bathroom and eat. So that meant no flowers on Velentine's Day in addition to my lack of kiss on New Year's Eve. I guess I shouldn't care all that much, especially since Valentine's Day has been contrived by greeting card companies and the retail market as a ploy to sell crap between Christmas and Easter. But this morning I checked my google reader and read about everyone's awesome Valentine's Day and started feeling sorry for myself. And even worse than that, the kids I teach in Sunday school asked what I did for Valentine's Day, and when I told them, one of the kids said, "dang, that's super lame!" Yes, thank you for rubbing the super lame salt in my super lame wound. At least I got this consolation prize from one of the kids: "That's almost as bad as my brother taking his girlfriend to the monster truck rally for Valentine's Day. But not as bad."

So, to all of my single friends: the grass only looks greener on the other side. You might still end up watching Dick Clark by yourself on New Year's Eve and having Valentine's Day be just like any other day. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst, right? And when it get's really bad, just remind yourself that it's not as bad as a monster truck rally.

But all kidding aside - my husband and I might not have scrapbook, blog-worthy holiday celebrations, which is OK since I don't do the scrapbook thing, because every regular day is just as momentous, even more so, than I ever thought it could be. I'm so grateful to have a husband who shows me the kind of love and respect every day that some women only see on holidays. That's one of the reasons I let him stick around. That and his Grossness Tolerance Level is much greater than mine. He's my go-to guy when there's grossness that needs to be gotten rid of. I love you, sweetheart! Get well.

Remember When His Name Was "Leaf"?

I love me some Joaquin Phoenix! Walk the Line, anyone? So I was terribly disappointed to see his appearance on Late Night with David Letterman. It's awkward, painful and downright disappointing.

States I Don't Want to Live in: Flori-don't

I'm starting a series called "States I Don't Want to Live In," and Florida is my first entry. I went to Jacksonville, Florida once and I thought it was one of the nastiest places I've ever been to. My cousin lives there, and I like my cousin, but I don't care too much for Florida. I tell people this and they tell me I should go to Orlando and I will feel differently. And then today I was reading an article about a child abduction that happened in Florida, and I thought to myself, "self, it seems like most child abductions happen in Florida." So I did a little Google to see what I could find to support my theory. This is what I found. Apparently Jeb Bush noticed, too.

Anyway, frequent child abductions isn't the only reason I don't want to live in Florida. Have you ever watched COPS? Every episode was in Broward County, Florida.

Alligator attacks? Florida.

Hurricanes? Florida.

Key Lime Pie? Florida (I like Key Lime Pie, it just gives me wicked bad heartburn).

Nuff said.

I won the golden ticket!

Congratulations to the first 5 peeps to comment on my super awesome home-made present giveaway post! The lucky ladies are:

Super cool SIL Becca

Fashion forward Holly

Sassy Southern Stormy

"Just Janet" Robyn

"Rhinestone Baby" Heather

I'm working on your super awesome home-made stuff and hope to have it finished in about a week. Just sos you all know, I once went to a scrapbook store and I got to do a free page. The woman who was working there told me that there were enough supplies for me to start over if I wanted to. So what I'm sayin' is that I'm not that crafty. Your present may or may not be made with puffy paints. It may or may not be Bedazzled. It may or may not be a boondoggle. I may or may not use the cat hair I collect around my house to knit you a purse. OK - that last one really happened. Not by me, but I saw a lady on TV who worked as a pet groomer and started collecting the cat hairs to knit things out of. Now she takes the hair of deceased cats and dogs and knits them into purses, hats, scarves, etc. for the owners to memorialize their pets. Gross nasty is all I have to say about that.

Thanks for playin', friends!

I Like the Wizard of Oz!

Credit for this one goes to Word to Your Mother.

Lemming!

Is it considered plagiarizing if you snag it from someone else's blog? I'm gonna give proper credit JIC. I got this from my friend Heather's blog, but since it's private and you're not invited (unless you are) then you wouldn't be able to check up on the validity of my source. OK, here goes.

The first five people to respond to this post will get something made by me! My choice. For you. This offer does have some restrictions and limitations:

1- I make no guarantees that you will like what I make!
2- What I create will be just for you.
3- It'll be done this year. (might be a little while)
4- You have no clue what it's going to be. It may be a story. It may be poetry or an article on properly cleaning your face before a masque. I may draw or paint something. I may bake you something and mail it to you. Who knows? Not you, that's for sure!
5- I reserve the right to do something extremely strange.

The catch? Oh, the catch is that you must repost this on your blog and offer the same to the first 5 people who do the same on their blog. The first 5 people to do so, and leave a comment telling me they did, win a FAB-U-LOUS homemade gift by me! Oh, and be sure to post a picture of what you win when you get it!

Hoff a Nice Day!

I'm a sucker for anything David Hasselhoff related. Not in a weird way, I just get such a kick out of all of the Hoff jokes. Like "Don't Hassle the Hoff," "Hoff a Nice Day," "Wax On Wax Hoff." So hilarious! I was inspired by Word to Your Mother to share some of the Hoffness with my loyal readers. Just make sure you're careful when Googleing David Hasselhoff. If you have no stomach for massive amounts of chest hair, stay away.

S.A.D.

Is anyone else ready for spring? I have been in a mid-winter funk ever since New Years, and I cannot seem to snap out of it. And it's not like I feel sad or depressed or anything, I just would rather sleep over anything else that is going on. I have an especially hard time getting up in the morning, and have boycotted Sunday morning choir practice because it is at 9:30 and church doesn't even start until 11. I haven't been to work on time in ages. At first I was blaming it on my underactive thyroid and anemia, but I realized today that it has to be the weather. It is bitterly cold, smoggy, and dark in the morning. And who wants to go out into that kind of weather?

Maybe I have the SAD - Seasonal Affective Disorder. Maybe I need a vacation to somewhere warm and sunny that also does not have smog. Maybe I need a Sleep Number mattress. Maybe I need a better alarm clock. Come to think of it, I felt this way last winter, too, but once March rolled around I was back to my old self. It's a good thing that February is a short month.

You Heard it Here First

So maybe I'm giving myself too much credit with saying "you heard it here first," but I had these epiphanies whilst in the shower yesterday morning (all of my great thinking happens in the shower) and I thought I should post them instead of calling up everyone I know who watches Lost to tell them my theories.

So, we know that Daniel is a physicist and he has all sorts of knowledge about the island and the way that time travel works, presumably because he has been to the island before during future time travel episodes. OK. Maybe I just made that up, but it makes sense to me. During one of the time flashes, Daniel knocks on the door of the hatch to tell Desmond to contact his mom at Oxford. But mom's not at Oxford and no one has any record of Daniel Farraday, or his mother. I think that's funny since Daniel Farraday hadn't been gone that long. Whatev. And I think that Desmond couldn't find the mom, because Daniel is the illegitimate son of Charles Widmore, or maybe even Richard Alpert (that dude gives me the freak out), so mom has a different last name. Now, you might think I'm way out there by suggesting that Daniel Farraday is an illegitimate child of Widmore, but just hear me out.

We find out in the last episode that Widmore was on the island sometime in the 50's, and it seems like he may have been one of Ricky A's flunkies - at least he seems like he's trying too hard to impress Richard. So, it's established that Widmore was on the island. There's that one lady with the high pants and tank top, you know, the one who takes Daniel to disarm the bomb? Well, remember how Daniel was staring at her and she asked him why? His response was "you look like someone I know." Yeah, Dan! It's because she's your mom!

Keep following me. In last week's episode, there's the lady down in the basement of the church, sitting at the Dharma-looking computer, with all sorts of scientific instruments, including some kind of clock/locater thingy that swings with gravity and the turning of the earth (I think they have one of those things at the Eyering Science Center at BYU). Supposedly she found out that there's a 70 hour window for getting back to the island. And, given the fact that she was working on Dharma equipment, is in cahoots with Ben, is some sort of scientist, and is British, and Charles Widmore knew she was in LA (because we know that's where Ben is), she has to be Daniel's mom. Her age would suggest that she would be the right age, too. Actually, the curly hairstyle was what gave it away. Desmond is going to poop in his pants when he finds out that she's the lady who worked in the jewelry shop and wouldn't sell him the ring because it wasn't his destiny.

Did Daniel see "Back to the Future?" Because if he did, he would be following his own advice of "not changing stuff." I mean, I guess it was good and all that he told Desmond to find his mom, but he could seriously mess with his chances of being born if he keeps messing with the 1950's Dharma peeps. At least he was smart enough not to mess with the H-Bomb.

I'm not even close to figuring out who Jacob is, unless it's Jack's dad, but somehow I think that Jack's dad was a Dharma dude, too. He probably received his medical training on the island and speaks wicked good Latin.

And when Claire told Kate "don't you dare bring him back," how do we know that she was talking about Aaron? Jack also had that hallucination/dream/real life thing (I can't remember) where he was told "you're not supposed to raise him." We just assume that it's referring to Aaron, but I actually think it's about John Locke. He's dead. Ben wants to bring him back to the island, presumably to make him not dead anymore, hence "bring him back," "raise him."

We know from last season that Ben and Widmore hate each other, and with Widmore saying to Desmond "this doesn't involve either of you," I got from those words that Ben and Widmore were on the island together. Widmore is obviously a go getter, doesn't take no for an answer sort of dude. He probably aspired to be the leader of the Dharma-ers, but Jacob chose Ben instead. That's why Widmore is so TOd. He's not gonna take Jacob's no for an answer and he's gonna get that island for himself.

And Theresa, Tina, whatever her name is. We know that Widmore funded Daniel's time travel research projects, probably so he could find a way to get back to the island and kill Ben so that Jacob wouldn't choose him. How did Daniel know what was happening to Charlotte? It's because he was using Theresa in his experiments because the rats just weren't doin' it for him, and things went bad. Real bad. I bet he was also in love with Theresa. Man, he falls in love easily.

That's all I got so far. I need to watch the last two episodes again and then take a shower. I'll get back to you with what I figure out.

One last thing. Someone asked whether Desmond's kid was named Charlie after Charles Widmore (the kid's g-pa) or after Charlie (hey y'all everybody). It's the latter.

Ok. I do have one more theory. The people that are trying to take Aaron away from Kate are probably working for Sun. I know it sounds strange, but Sun is totally POd at Kate because she said she would get Jin, but she didn't, so now Sun wants to seek revenge and take something away from Kate that she loves. Sun said, "I don't blame you, you saw what needed to be done and you did it," but there was all sorts of manipulation and sneaky behind that comment. And I don't think that Jin and Michael are dead. It's just a gut feeling that I have.

Strange Dreams

My mom always told me that if you eat too late at night, especially chocolate, that you'll have funky dreams. I don't know that I ever noticed it, probably because I'm so hungry when I get home from work, that it never really gets to that point.

Anyway, I went to dinner with my friend, Tonya, last Friday night because we both have the same birthday and my husband was up in the woods throwing logs, starting fires, and dutch-oven cooking. I think they call that "camping." So, she came down here from Salt Lake and we went to Tucanos because I had a complimentary birthday dinner coupon and I love meat. We mostly went because I love meat. For those of you who are familiar with the dining situation in Provo on a Friday or Saturday night, you know that unless you go to dinner at 4:30 with the Senior Citizens, you're probably not going to get into a restaurant until at least 8. It was a little after 8 when we were finally seated, but for some reason the meat sword guys were avoiding our table. They must have thought "those are girls, and girls don't like meat, so they're probably here for the salad bar." Whatever! By the time I flagged down a meat sword guy, it was about 8:30. Needless to say, it was pretty late by the time we were finished.

I went home and was really restless as I was trying to sleep. It could have been that I was missing my husband (which I kinda did), or it could have been that there were a lot of sirens going off outside, and being that I live in the ghetto, I was a little scared. I finally fell asleep, but boy did I have an interesting dream.

In this dream, Ray Manzarek (he's the guy who played keyboards for The Doors) was telling me that Posh and David Beckham were getting divorced. I was so upset by this that I think I was actually crying in my sleep. I don't know why I was upset because that's just weird. Anyway Ray Manzarek, who's name was actually Pete in my dream, told me that he would cheer me up by playing a song on the keyboard for me. He played that really long section of "Light My Fire". Then my mom popped in and told me that the reason why that section of the song was so long and it was just music, was that Jim Morrison was so hopped up on goofballs that he couldn't remember the words. So if that's not weird enough, Eric D. Snider (he used to write a humor column for the BYU Daily Universe when I was a student there, and we were in some classes together in the communications department) comes in and says he wants to write a movie review on the film that I submitted to Sundance. Then he suggested that we should all go to Burger King (and by "all" I mean me, my mom, Ray "Pete" Manzarek, and Eric D. Snider). I think I ordered a Whopper, but that part is kind of fuzzy. While we were at the BK, B-Money (a Provo "rapper", who Rob thinks is actually special and so I shouldn't make fun of him anymore) walks in and starts rapping for us. Then Ray Manzarek whips out a little Casio keyboard and starts accompanying B-Money. Next thing I know, I told everyone that I had to go feed the cat before Rob got home and I was out the door. When I got to the house, Val Kilmer was at the mailbox picking up his mail and we exchanged some niceties and I went in to feed the cat. That's when I woke up and the cat was sitting next to my head and she was purring really loudly.

OK. So it was weird. But, I can explain all of it. Earlier that week, I saw something on TV about Posh and Becks. And then that same day I read a review of Sundance that Eric D. Snider wrote and he mentioned Ray Manzarek and Burger King in his review. When I was younger, I actually asked my mom why The Doors had such long sections in their songs with no singing, and she gave me the exact answer as what she said in my dream. And whenever I think of Burger King, I automatically think of B-Money. And I actually saw him walking down the street the other day with a Sony Discman in one hand and a stack of CDs in the other, and I thought to myself, "B-Money really ought to upgrade to an iPod." Val Kilmer played Jim Morrison in that movie about The Doors, so that's where he came from. And the cat, well, she was sitting next to my head purring loudly. In real life.

So I think my mom's advice about not eating late is something that I'm actually going to follow from now on. I didn't like my Tucanos-induced meat trip dream, and I don't want to have one again.

What are some of your strangest dreams? Enquiring minds want to know, so leave a comment.

Names Have Been Changed To Protect The Innocent

I just had to post this gem that I saw on my good ol' friend Portah's blog. I've tried to explain this to people, but I just don't do it justice, so I figured she'd be OK with me posting it. Now, by popular demand, "Life Lesson: Always Check Your Kid's Homework."

When asked to draw a picture of what they wanted to be when they grew up, second-grader "Sarah" turned in the lovely drawing shown below. Needless to say, the teacher was a bit surprised -- Mrs. Smith had always seemed like such a conservative woman. So she sent a note home to the girl's mother asking for clarification as to the picture's meaning. Read mom's reply below the picture.
Here's the reply the teacher received the following day:

Dear Mrs. Jones,

I wish to clarify that I am not now, nor have I ever been, an exotic dancer. I work at Home Depot and I told my daughter how hectic it was last week before the blizzard hit. I told her we sold out every single shovel we had, and then I found one more in the back room, and that several people were fighting over who would get it. Her picture doesn't show me dancing around a pole. It's supposed to depict me selling the last snow shovel we had at Home Depot. From now on I will remember to check her homework more thoroughly before she turns it in.

Sincerely,

Mrs. Smith

Forgive me Craigslist, for I have sinned.

Ever since we bought our awesome china cabinet on Craigslist, I got this great idea that we didn't have to give our crap to DI, but that we could actually get some money for it. When I was growing up, we never had garage sales or anything like that to get rid of junk, we just always gave it to DI. I don't know whay that was. Maybe it was a time constraint thing. Both of my parents worked and doing a garage sale probably took too much time. But secretly, I think it's because some of the uppity neighbors would have complained that it brought too much traffic to the street, or the wrong kind of traffic, if you know what I mean. Anyhoo, we just gave old stuff to DI.

After going to Craigslist and seeing all of the junk that people put on there and actually think someone else will buy, I decided that was the best idea ever. We put our old entertainment center on there and it was gone in about 2 hours. We sold our old, non-digital ready, 27" TV on there. I've listed a circa 1978 chandelier and some track lighting, but no one seems to want that. Normally, we would have taken all of this stuff to DI. So, last week we bought a new couch for our family room because it was time to get rid of the pink monstrosity that we were using as a couch. Really, it was just something to sit on. So, we debated about whether we could really sell it or whether it was a straight to DI thing. I decided that some sucker might buy it for $40. After almost a week, no suckers were interested so I lowered the price to $20. And guess what, a sucker called. All of the people that have inquired about our stuff are college-aged males, and so was this guy. He said that he wanted to come over and look at it, so we set up a time.

Last night, this guy and his child bride came over to take a look-see at the pink thing, and decided they wanted to buy it. I described the couch as having good upholstery and padding that was still in tact, but that it had some dirt on it. They decided that they could put a slip cover on it and it would be just fine. As they were carrying it out, I noticed a huge black strip of what I thought was dirt on the back, when I realized that it was actually a ton of cat hair. I also noticed that some of the fabric had ripped in the back. I almost stopped them so that I could lint roll the cat hair off, and to point out the ripped fabric, but I didn't. I just took their money and let them walk out the door. I'm terrible. But, I did mention that it was sold as is, and really it is the burden of the buyer to check things out before they purchase, right? I still feel really bad about it.

Change

We believe in being subject to kings, presidents, rulers, and magistrates, in obeying, honoring, and sustaining the law. - The 12th Article of Faith of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints

I did not vote for Barack Obama, but I will support him as President of the United States.

Having said that I did not vote for him, and would rather have had someone else in office, I couldn't help but to become emotional as I watched the inaugural proceedings. I live in the best country in the world! A country where I have the right and priveledge to vote for whom I please, the right to practice my religion, the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I am grateful for those who have gone before me who gave their lives in protection of the freedoms that I now enjoy.

I appreciate George Bush's service to our country. I think that he is a good man, but due to a lot of difficult things that happened during his presidency, he's been given a bad rap. I think people, especially the media, need to be reminded that this country operates on a system of checks and balances so that no one branch of the government has complete power. People are looking for a scapegoat to blame for this country's problems and George Bush is it.

Change is good. Hope is good. And I hope that Barack Obama can be a force for change in this country.

OK. I couldn't let this post go by without just mentioning this part of the Inauguration. Rev. Lowery's benediction. Did he really just say "....help us work for that day when black will not be asked to give back, when brown can stick around, when yellow will be mellow, when the red man can get ahead, man, and when white will embrace what is right."

A Chip Off the Old Block

This is my nephew, Tyler (kim's little boy). He decided to welcome his Aunt Stacy home from her trip to Boston with a ban from the bathroom. What I want to know is, who told him how to spell "business?" That's a big word for a 5 year old.

10 Things I Hate About Me

I heard it through the grapevine that Heather wanted people to write 10 quirky things about them on their blogs, but since she didn't tag anyone in particular I took that as a "get out of jail free" card. Well, I'm gonna pass go and collect $200 on this one. Here it goes...

1) I do not like feet. I pay someone else to pedicure mine, and I don't like touching anyone else's. I did rub my husband's feet the other day, but I could handle that because he doesn't have calluses and I know where his feet have been.

2) I'm afraid of ear wax. Well, I'm not afraid of it, but it really grosses me out. I had to stand behind this kid in the lunch line for all of 2nd grade and he had the worst ear wax of any individual I've ever known. I was afraid that if I got too close I would catch it. I clean my ears out excessively because I don't ever want ear wax creeping out of my ears. Last week in church I sat behind this old guy who had a clump of ear wax stuck to the hair growing out of his ear and I almost got up in the middle of church and moved.

3) I eat too much cheese and I don't drink enough water.

4) I don't like Jazz music. It makes anger build up inside of me.

5) I will not use body soap to wash my face in the shower. I know where that soap has been and I don't want it anywhere near my face. I had a discussion with my friend Allison about whether soap cleans itself, and even if it does, I won't wash my face with body soap.

6) I hiccup every morning when I get out of bed.

7) I smell laundry to see if it's clean or dirty. I've smelled some pretty bad laundry.

8) Whenever I see a bad driver on the road, I always assume they're either old or Asian. I'm correct 99% of the time.

9) No matter how painful, I will never pass gas in public. I just can't bring myself to do it.

10) If I see someone at the store or something, and I don't want to talk to them, I will pretend to be really intent on reading a label, or I'll go the other direction to avoid talking to them.

G'day, Mate!

I think that Crocodile Dundee just crossed the street in front of me. He was jay-walking. He was wearing a John Deere hat and cowboy boots, but I'm pretty sure it was Crocodile Dundee. This doesn't happen every day in Provo, UT. Every so often you spot various Osmonds or someone that was in High School Musical (not that I ever watched that show), but it's not very common to see famous people. Back in LA I would see famous people all of the time. I saw Val Kilmer and that one lady who dated Ellen DeGeneres for a while at the airport. There was also this one time that I waved at Pres. George H.W. Bush's limo as it drove down Sepulveda Blvd. I'm pretty sure he waved back, but the windows were dark so I couldn't really tell. I digress. What was Crocodile Dundee doing in Provo? My guesses are that he couldn't get a room in Park City for the Sundance Film Festival, so he has to crash in the Provo Marriott. It's just a guess. Or maybe it wasn't even Crocodile Dundee. Maybe it was just some homeless guy.

XX or XY

My friend Mallory taught me this game called XX or XY, where you try to guess the gender of gender ambiguous people out in public. I don't really get to play this game very often, except for maybe every once in a while at the Springville Wal-Mart.

Today at work, one of my co-workers gave me the opportunity to play the game. She sends me this email with a link to an article and asks me, "do you think this editor is a guy or a girl?" I open up the link and my first impression is that it is a woman. A woman with an ambiguous Mullet-like haircut, but looks like a woman because of the business suit she's wearing... or is that a man's oxford shirt. I just couldn't tell. So before I emailed my co-worker back, I decided to do a little Internet investigation to see if I could ascertain the person's gender before I got back with a verdict.

Ususally, magazine Web sites will have a bio page of all of the authors and editors, where pronouns such as "he" or "she" are often used to describe the individual. Did this magazine have a bio page? No, it did not. Strike one! My next resource was a PR database thingy we use at work that lists a lot of contacts for different media organizations. Usually, before the individual's name, there is a prefix like "Ms." or "Mr." Out of every editor and author at this magazine, this person was the only one without a title in front of it's name. Which brings me to this... the person's name. It's Layne. That could be a guy or a girl.

I'm at a loss. I peek my head up over the cube and whisper to my co-worker, "probably a woman. A very manly woman, but probably a woman." She stands up and says to me, that's what I thought, but I called it on the phone and it sounds like a man. That just adds more confusion. My grandmother, may she rest in peace, sounded like a man on the phone because she had chronic bronchitis. Another co-worker often gets mistaken for a teenage girl on the phone. He is an adult man. So, you never can tell. We had a few good laughs about "It's Pat" and then both sat back down in our cubes. But the thing is, it's been bothering me all day. XX or XY?

I'd post a picture and do a poll, but I don't want to jeopardize my employment or the reputatation of my company. I'll e-mail you a picture if you just can't stand it.

Husband Tag

I was tagged by Christine to answer some questions about my husband. BTW - the picture to the left is the one that Mark took with his cell phone and said, "wanna go on a date with this guy?"

Rob's 5 Favorite things that he loves:

1. Me

2. Popcorn

3. World of Warcraft

4. Whole milk

5. Rich Dad - Robert Kiyosaki

5 Things on His T0-do list

1. Move his bike into the back room

2. Switch from a Thursday to a Tuesday class

3. Get out of the rat race

4. Buy his wife a birthday present

5. Look at 100 investment properties

5 Snacks he loves

1. Popcorn w/butter

2. Nuts

3. Popcorn w/yeast flakes and butter

4. Lorna Doones

5. Popcorn w/caramel

The man loves him some popcorn!

5 Facts you may not know

1. He served a mission in New England

2. He went to the FBI Academy... once, to use the bathroom. J/K! he got sent there for work to do some stuff to their shooting targets.

3. He cooks wicked good

4. He doesn't like to drive

5. He's the Unit Commissioner for the Scouts in our stake

5 Places he has lived

1. Orem, UT/Provo, UT

2. Massachusetts

3. Maine

4. New Hampshire

5. Vermont

5 Quirky things about him

1. He rotates his socks in the drawer so they get worn evenly and will all need to be replaced at the same time

2. He watches movies with the subtitles on

3. He likes to drink milk out of a metal cup

4. He reads instructions

5. He always rolls up his long sleeves, except for Sunday when he's wearing a white long-sleeved shirt to church.

5 People I Tag

1. Heather L.

2. Robyn C.

3. Stormy

4. Karen D.

5. Becca

I've Won!

Holly, from If I were Really Skinny, nominated me for a major award. I've never heard of it, so I don't actually know how major it is, but it's major to me because I've never won an award before! Except for Student of the Month in the 4th grade. And all I got was a gift certificate for a free ice cream cone at Dairy Queen, but there wasn't even a Dairy Queen in our city so that award pretty much meant nothing to me. This award recognizes blogs who show great attitude and gratitude. I knew I had an attitude... j/k! It's called the Lemonade Award because when life hands you lemons... you know the rest. Anyway, thanks, Holly! I feel so priveleged.

1. Thank the person who was so thoughtful for giving you this award by linking their blog to this post.

2. Put the logo on your blog or post.

3. Nominate 10 blogs which show great attitude/gratitude.

4. Link your nominee to your post.

5. Comment them to tell them about the award they've won.

I nominate:

1. Esperanza

2. Jim and Becky

3. John and Becca

4. Life with Mark and Kristin

5. Melissa

6. The Deckers

7. The McCarthas

8. Thoughts About Nothing

9. The McDaniels

10. Stirling Family

Live Every Week Like It's Shark Week!

I don't know what that means, but I do know that I love 30 Rock! I can't believe that I am so late in jumping on the bandwagon for this brilliant show. I spent my Christmas vacation watching season 1 (thank you Netflix!) and now I'm waiting for a better Internet connection so I can start season 2. I was hoping I could get caught up, but, alas, I didn't have the time to do it all in 1 week.

I wanted to post pictures of some of my favorite moments, but Blogger isn't letting me download photos right now.

Holiday Recap

Well, as usual, my husband and I forgot to bust out the digital whilst merry-making (not that kind... ew, gross!) so there are no pictures of our holiday festivities. We started things off by going sledding with Rob's sister's family. It was pretty laid back. The snow was knee-deep (sometimes thigh), and it was hard to treck to the sledding hill but sledding on fresh snow was really fun. Then we went to Tepanyaki for dinner. I've never been to one of those Japanese grill type places, so it was a neat experience. Flames! When we got to the restaurant, it was hotter than you-know-what in there, so I sneaked over to the thermostat and turned that baby down. It was set at 84! Well, I guess I turned it down too much because by the time we got to our table we were freezing. My attempt to turn it back up failed because there were some workers sitting right by it.

Christmas morning we opened our presents and then made a nice Christmas morning breakfast. I tried to make cinnamon rolls, but they turned out not so good. Next year, I guess. Then we went over to Rob's parent's house for a Christmas dinner. We visited with his parents and some of his siblings, and then went home. I am still getting used to his large family. I love them, but I get a headache when I'm with that many people for too long. Actually, I had a headache to start. Sometimes I get these tension headaches that turn into migraines and I have them for 4-5 days and they only get worse. Any suggestions for how to get rid of one?

On Saturday, Rob's family had their annual Christmas party. I wasn't in the best of moods, nor did I feel well, so I ended up having a breakdown when I went to get my food and there wasn't any left. I'm telling you, every family is different and I guess I just wasn't prepared for there not to be any food left when I made my way up to the buffet table. I felt like a cotton headed ninnyboggins for crying at the buffet table, but hopefully everyone was so busy chowing down that they didn't notice.

People say that the first year of marriage is the hardest. I don't know. Being married has been wonderful and, for the most part, the transition from being single to married has been a smooth one for both of us. I think it's when we have to blend our families and family traditions that it gets rough. I'm not gonna lie. This Christmas was hard. It's the first Christmas that I have not been in California, the first Christmas without my grandma, and the first Christmas with snow. All of these new things at once were overwhelming. I just had to keep reminding myself that Christmas isn't about who you spend it with, or what you eat, but it's about the Savior. When I reminded myself of that, the Christmas Spirit returned and I was able to enjoy myself.

I know this post is kind of a downer, but I'm just following my mantra of "keepin' it real." I don't want to portray my life as being 100% marvelous 100% of the time because that's not accurate. I like President Hinckley's quote about not all puts dropping, steak being tough, etc., but that life is like an old-fashioned train trip and the trick is just to enjoy the ride. And enjoying the ride I am!

The Weather Outside is Frightful

Unless you live in a cave, and don't have cable television, you've probably experienced, seen, or heard how much snow we have in Utah right now. I shouldn't complain about it. Afterall, all of those righteous people in Santa Clara, Utah have been praying for "moisture" for decades. I shouldn't complain about other's prayers being answered. But I'm gonna complain. It's so cold here that my fingers and toes are in a perpetual state of popsicle-ness. I have to wear my ugly pink Ugg boots (jealous?) because honestly, this is the only acceptable time to wear such a thing. But I'm not a tucker. I cannot allow myself to tuck my pants into my Ugg boots, pink ones nonetheless, because I have flashbacks to the early 90s when pegged jeans were in style. I hated the early 90s.

Now I'm going to complain about ice. The parking lot and sidewalks at the condo are just one big, continuous ice trail. I'm going to start renting skates and charging admission. I personally have slipped 7 times in the last 4 days. And to make things worse, a visitor to our house slipped and hurt his fanny. I'm going to go to the HOA and refuse to pay the fees until they get off their lazy bums and do what we pay them for! When the residents themselves have to borrow snow blowers and shovels from other neighbors, that's a bad situation.

Now that I'm done complaining, I'll tell you about some fun things. I did donuts for the first time last Friday night. Rob insisted that I learn how to do them and also how to handle my car in the snow. I don't see what the big whoop is. I don't think I'll be doing donuts any time soon. It was fun to see how excited Rob got about the whole process. He told me that earlier that day on his way home from work, he stopped in a church parking lot and did some of his own. Must be a guy thing.

Last night we drove through the neighborhood passing out our Christmas goodies. My Hyundai Sonata, Uncle Jesse is his name, handles very well in the snow. Every time we'd make it over a big pile of snow or up a steep driveway, I'd yell "Uncle Jesse!" Yeah, it's dorky, I know. Anyway, we drove up to one of the houses we were bringing goodies to, and the teenage boy in the family was packing the front door with snow. I thought to myself, 'that Wilcox boy seems pretty bright, why is he packing his own front door?' I made it a point to ask Rob later that night if the Wilcox boy was "all there."

Me: Why was the Wilcox boy packing his own front door with snow?
Rob: Because it's fun.
Me: Well, but isn't it more fun to do it to someone else?
Rob: Why would it be more fun doing it to someone else?
Me: Because then you don't have to clean it up.
Rob: Um, I guess not.
Me: I mean, why would you doorbell ditch your own house?
Rob: What?
Me: Isn't that what you do? You pack a front door with snow, ring the doorbell, run away, and when the front door is opened all the snow falls in?
Rob: No! You pack the door and when you open it the wall is still there and you run through and bust it down. We did it to our door all the time when I was a kid.
Me: Oh, I guess that makes sense.

I just don't get a lot of the snow stuff. Donuts? Snow packing? Skiing?

I am excited to have my first "White Christmas" ever. It's kind of romantical.

The McRib is Back!

I drive by Mc Donald's every day on my way to work. About a week ago, I started seeing a sign that says "The McRib is Back." I thought to myself, I've never had a McRib. I wonder what it tastes like? I asked a few people and they all said it didn't taste very good. One of those people was my husband. He said, "Don't do it!"

I did it. And I don't like it. I had a Jessica Simpson moment as I was eating it: "Is this chicken what I have, or is it fish? I know it’s tuna, but it says Chicken. By the sea. Is that stupid?" Except I was saying, "is this pork what I have or is this chicken?" I don't know what the meat is. As I was searching for a picture to use, I came across this quote on a blog: "The McRib first appeared in the late 70s-early 80s as McDonald's first attempt to court black people. Their reasoning: the black man loves him some ribs. Only problem is that it doesn't resemble ribs in any way and tastes like a rubber chicken patty doused in syrup. Some pretty ridiculous advertising ensued including some really bad break-dancing." This guy hit the nail on the head with the taste.

And how do they get it to look like a rack of ribs? It's just scary. Now I know why the McRib goes away, I just don't know why it comes back. From now on, I am going to listen to my husband. He's older and wiser, so I better take his advice... especially when it comes to food that looks wierd.

Going Postal

I've got a bone to pick with the United States Postal Service (hereafter referred to as USPS). I don't know what it is about this job, but

most postal employees I've come across are just plain ornery! Maybe it's because it's December and it's busy? You'd think that they would be grateful for the increase in business and just shut up! Anyway, a few weeks ago there was a sign posted above the mail boxes in our complex that read, "Mail Must Be Picked Up Every 3 Days," and in handwriting, "Removing this sign does not change policy, it only hurts your neighbor!" As I was collecting my mail, I was trying to figure out how removing the sign hurt my neighbor. I then began thinking that maybe Rob and I were the offenders. We went out of town for almost a week, and our mail was being picked up, but it didn't get picked up on Saturday (from what I could tell) and it was then Monday. So, whatever, I chuckled at the sign and almost ripped it down, because that's just how I am (I hate passive-aggressiveness).

About a week ago, I picked up our mail and noticed that the paper sign that is repeatedly ripped down was replaced with a permanent metal one. There's no taking that baby down! Anyway, I just think it's really funny. Personally, I don't think it's anyone's business how often you get your mail. You get it when you get it.

We didn't pick our mail up on Saturday because it was just a crazy day and we forgot. I stopped by the mailbox while I was walking to our condo, and opened it up to see our mail crammed in the box. The junk mail and ads were crumpled up in a ball and shoved into the box. And it's not like it was full! There was plenty of room in there for the junk mail and ads to be placed flat. Talk about passive-aggressive. If I were home when the mail was delivered, I'd hang out by the mailbox and give this mail carrier one of my minds - not just a piece of it! I was so angry that the mail carrier crumpled up my Rite Aid circular. I was really wanting to know the price of a Chia Pet, but I couldn't tell because of the creases in the paper. That dang postal carrier!

So maybe I was so upset about it because this incident came right on the heels of one earlier that morning. I put my Christmas cards in the outgoing mail at work, and when I went to lunch the receptionist told me that the mailman gave her an earful about how people need to take their personal mail to the post office instead of mailing it from work. Why in the heck does he care? His job is to deliver and pick up mail. Period.

What happened to the good 'ol days when you knew your mailman's name? He was a nice, friendly sort of guy. He'd stop to shoot the breeze, and tell you that he was gay (like you couldn't tell from his uber tight shirt unbuttoned to the navel and his shorty-short postman shorts) and then invite you to see his play that he was putting on at the LGBT center in West Hollywood? I miss those days. I miss Derek. He was the best mailman a girl could have. Derek would never chastise me for mailing personal mail from work. He would never crumple up my junk mail and shove it in the box. I miss you Derek!

I am sorely disappointed in the USPS. And they wonder why people use FedEx and UPS more often.

Magic Nail, Wha You Wan?

There was this one time that I needed a Pedi ASAP, so I was calling all of the nail shops in town to see if I could get an appointment that day. All of my normal places were booked, so I had to branch out to another part of town. I call this one place, and the guy who answered the phone barks at me, "Magic Nail, wha you wan?" I was so taken back by his greeting, that I couldn't speak for a minute. After he said "wha you wan?" like six times, I was snapped back into reality and told him I needed an appointment for a pedicure. What kind of business answers the phone and says "wha you wan?"

OK, so flash forward a few years. A girl I work with sends me a YouTube video of this comedian making fun of nail shops. She had it down! The accent, what she said, everything. I still laugh at that one. it is so true, I don't think that the Asian nail shop people try to be rude, I think they just are and they make no excuses for it.

In California, nails are a lot cheaper to get done than they are in Utah. You can get a mani/pedi for like $15 in California, but it's like $35 in Utah. Probably the whole supply demand thing. So, everytime I visit my parents I like to go to the Mantrap Nail (just one!) up the street. This place has been there since I was in high school, and the same guy owns it. He is young, American born, and college educated, so I've often wondered what he's doing operating a nail salon. And then the last time I was there I figured it out. He is a nail pimp. There are like 20 Vietnamese ladies that work there. They all sit at their stations until he calls them over to take a client. And he barks at them in Vietnamese, and they run up to him with their heads down and then take the client back to their stations. After they're done, they hand their tips to him. He is rollin' in dough! I kind of feel guilty about going to a nail sweatshop for a mani/pedi, but then when I have an extra $20 in my pocket, I don't feel so bad about it, which is why I treated myself to a pedi and a full set at Thanksgiving.

I'm back here in Provo, and it's time for a fill. I didn't have time to go to my normal nail shop (the one that Marie Osmond goes to - yeah, I took her picture clandestinely with my cell phone), so I went to the mall by my work. I actually heard this conversation happen (just like in the YouTube video):

"You wan acylic er gel?"

"Uh, what?"

"You wan acylic er gel???"

"Um, I don't know what that is."

"You wan gel. It make yo nail sparkle like diamond in the sky."

"Oh, OK. I want gel."

"For you, only thirty-fi dolla more."

I had to hold in the laughter, so as to not get smacked by the man nail tech. He had already smacked me on the wrist with a nail file because I wasn't holding my hand the way he wanted it. While he was doing my fill, he says "you get nail done here last time?" I told him that I had it done in California. His response was, "They do bad job. Look at all this lifting." And then he smacked my wrist again because I wasn't holding it up right. Long story short, I didn't have time to stay and get my nails painted because I had to get back to work. I left and decided I was going to paint them myself at home. I did, and I did a craptastic job, so I needed to have it done again. But I couldn't go back to the same guy because I'm sure the guy would beat me to death with his industrial strength nail file for messing it up. luckily he wasn't there, so I went to a different lady and the first thing the lady said was "this a really bad nail, who do this to you?" So I told her that it was the other place in the mall, and then she started talking about how the girls who work there are a bunch of harlots (but she really said "hoebags").

Really, I get my nails done for the entertainment and not out of vanity. Hours of laughs after going to the nail shop. Check out the YouTube nail video.

What Would Freud Say About This?

I had this strange dream the other night that I showed up to my husband's work Christmas party wearing nothing but an oversized Twilight T-Shirt. Well, I was wearing underwear underneath it, but I wasn't wearing shoes or jewelry or anything. And when I say "oversized," I really mean it. It was floor length and the shoulder seams came down past my elbows. I think I was wearing a fat red belt with it, but the details are fuzzy.

I remember feeling awkward that I was wearing this outfit, but no one else seemed to notice. Or they noticed but didn't say anything. Rob says it's almost like the dream where you show up to high school naked. Almost. Except that it is worse because you're wearing only an oversized dork shirt.

What does this mean? Am I having anxiety about what to wear to the party? Do I secretly wish that I owned an oversized Twilight shirt? Please give me your interpretations.

A little philosophy

If a cat throws up in your closet and you're not there to see it, did it really happen? Discuss.

I think that our cat thinks that if she throws up where no one can see her, that it never happened.

I'm just happy that she missed my shoes and that it had been there long enough to be not mushy (she threw up waaaay in the back).

My Two Cents

Now don't get me wrong, I love Niel and Babs, but there is just something wrong to me about them having Christmas albums. Niether of them are Christian. Not that anyone would ever want to buy an album of me singing songs period, but I would never put out a Hannukah album because I do not celebrate Hannukah. It also bothers me when the MoTab sings African spirituals. Middle-aged white people who aren't even wearing choir robes do not have any business singing African spirituals. I'm going to bring this up with Mack Wilberg the next time I give him a ride in my car. I'm also going to talk to him about the terrible outfits the ladies have to wear. Ever heard of a waist?

I guess I just have a problem with breaking the mold. I do not like it when Will Ferell and Jim Carey play in serious roles. I can handle Jack Black being serious, but his serious isn't totally serious. I do not think I would like it if Josh Groban switched to pop or JT switched to Opera, although "Sexy Back" would be really funny sung opera style. Sing it in your head, I promise you'll laugh.

So, that's my two cents about genre switching.

P.S. Is it just me, or does Babs have freakishly long fingers?

Deck the Halls!

Here's our Charlie Brown tree. It's actually pretty tall, just sparse. We got it at Baum's Christmas Trees. I highly recommend them.

We need to have the obligatory "1st Christmas" ornament.

Below is our mantle. I'm looking for some nice, but inexpensive stocking hooks we can use to hang our stockings. I'm so excited to have a mantle! I've never hung stockings on a mantle before. I also got a really nice garland that looks great on top of the china cabinet. I'm still not done with the decorating, so tune in later.

Gonna Party Like It's Your Birfday!

This is my cute sister-in-law, Becca (the guy is her husband, John, but this post isn't about him 'cuz it's not his birthday). Her birthday was yesterday, December 4. I just love Becca and I wished she lived closer. She is one of the sweetest people I know, and I give her a lot of credit for Robert and I getting married - and she hadn't even met me yet! That's how great she is. I wish her the best year ever! I love you, Becca.

P.S. This is going to be a regular blog series of mine, so drop me a line and let me know when your birthday is.

Introducing The Blog Frog

Hey Y'All,

You'll notice a new little gadget in the top right hand corner of my blog. I'm totally ripping the following wordage from my favorite blogger, CJane, so please forgive my plagiarism. I guess it's not plagiarism if I give credit, right?

"JMadd Supporters" are people who link their blog to mine. A partial list of what blogs link to mine was created by The Blog Frog (they have a robot that crawls the web and tries to connect blogs together). Please don't judge the grammatical errors on the widget. I hate grammatical errors, but what can I do. That's right, I, and not me. Therefore, some of you may find that your blog is already in this database so you may already be a supporter. (If you don't want to be on this list, click on "Visit the community", then you will see a link that says "Remove my blog".)

To become a supporter, first add a link to this blog somewhere on your blog's sidebar. (If you already link to this blog, you don't need to add the link again, just go on to the next step.) Then, go to the widget on this blog and click "become a supporter." Enter your blog address in the box and click submit. The widget will then go to your blog (behind the scenes) and verify that you have a working link.

The next time you or one of your friends uses the link on your blog, a link to your blog will appear on my blog! The widget displays the last 6 "referrals" from supporters. Even when someone else clicks to my blog from your blog, your blog will appear. (You can only appear at the top of the list once per user who clicks per day.)

You can also click on "Visit the community" to get to know each other better and interact with other readers of this blog. If you have questions about the widget please email rustin@theblogfrog.com (not me!) and he will answer them.

So, I'm in serious need of validation that people actually read my blog. I don't even think my mom reads it :( And, I want to win a $200 gift card from Target. I heart Target.

So here's a question I am posing to all of those who read (or stalk) my blog: What is the etiquette of following blogs? I had a wierdo follow my blog once, but I blocked her because she seems like a psycho and I don't want to be associated with her. Anyhoo, I started looking at other blogs she follows and saw that she is following a lot of my blog friends. How did she find us? I was reading some of the comments on her blog, and I thought one in particular made a lot of sense. I went to this person's blog and started reading. I like this blog. I wanted to follow it. It looks like this person follows several of my co-workers blogs, so I figured it would be OK if I followed her. I added myself as a follower, but I think she blocked me. I can't get any of her feeds. I feel like I just got broken up with on a blog (don't read too much into it ;). What is the proper protocol? Should I have made a comment on her blog and said, "I would like to follow your blog. Do I have your permission?" I just don't know. I don't consider myself a sicko, or a psycho, but I like to read about other people's experiences. I feel very rejected. What are some of your thoughts?

BTW - This person has commented on my blog before.

***WARNING*** Serious Post Ahead!

Lately I have been feeling very grateful for the things I've been blessed with in this life. Seeing all of the terrible things that are going on with our economy, the social unrest, poverty, lack of morality, etc. has made me do some serious reflecting on how I have been blessed.

Robert and I are by no means "wealthy," but we are able to pay our bills, set aside for savings, and have extra to spare. We have a comfortable place to live, cars that work, warm clothes, food to eat, and each other. We have faith in Jesus Christ and a testimony of His gospel. Compared to most of the world, we are rich.

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine asked me to relate to him an experience I had with my dad when I was younger. Ever since then, I have been reminded again and again of the principle I was taught by that experience.

When I was 9 or 10, I went to the grocery store with my dad one afternoon. There was a homeless lady sitting outside the grocery store begging for money. When we walked by her, she asked my dad for some money and he told her he didn't have any cash. While we were shopping, my dad put an extra loaf of bread, some peanut butter, jam, and a few other things in the cart. He asked the checker to put them in a seperate bag and had me hand the lady the bag as we walked out. She thanked us with a "God bless you," and we walked to the car. After we put the groceries in the car, my dad sat there and didn't start the engine. I asked him why we weren't leaving and he said that he wanted to watch the homeless lady for a while. After being in the car for a few minutes, we saw the lady walk over the the trash can and throw the bag we gave her away. I was angry. I thought "how dare she!" I asked my dad if he was going to say something to the woman, and he said that he wasn't because it was her choice to do whatever she wanted with what she was given. He said that she probably wanted money for drugs or alcohol, and that he wasn't going to aid her in her addictions, but that she still needed help and he felt it was his responsibility to help those who were in need.

I hadn't thought about that for a long time until my friend asked me about it. And since he asked me about it, I can't stop thinking about it. If you are LDS, you are probably familiar with the scripture in the Book of Mormon in Alma 34 that says if we pray for things, but neglect to feed the hungry and help the needy, our prayer is in vain. That scripture has weighed heavy on my mind and heart lately and so I have prayed for opportunities to help those who are in need.

Here's where the dead-serious part comes in. As I was driving to work yesterday morning, I saw a man walking down the street without a coat. He had wrapped his arms around himself and was all bent over as he was walking. It was very cold yesterday morning. The thought popped into my head that I had a fleece jacket in my car and that I should give it to him. Then the thought came that "I just bought that fleece jacket and who gives their jacket to some guy on the street?" The light turned green and I continued to work.

I've been bothered by this since then. I feel so terrible that I prayed for an opportunity, it came, and I ignored it. I also feel terrible about letting the man go jacketless down the street. What if he freezes to death or catches pneumonia?

Why am I writing about this? I don't know. Maybe to clear my conscience?

Since what happened yesterday, I have an even greater resolve to help those who have less because I have so much. I don't know what the world will bring. Robert and I have jobs now, but with the economy the way it is, you just never know. I want to be able to help those in need and hope that it would be returned if I ever needed help. I also want to form the habit of giving now so that my children will see an example of it, just like I saw from my father.

So, the next time I see someone walking down the street cold and jacketless, I will stop and offer them my extra fleece in the trunk.

Oh, the Farmer and the Coleman Should Be Friends!

Oh my goodness! Gary Coleman provides me with hours of laughing in silence at my work desk. What on earth is he wearing? Is he going skiing or is he going to plow a field in Santaquin? I just had an awesome idea. I should nominate Gary Coleman for TLCs "What Not to Wear." That way he can get $5,000 for a new wardrobe (we all know he's broke) and a serious fashion flogging session from Stacy and Clinton.

Oh Fuuuuudge!

I don't usually do this kind of stuff, but I want to win this leg lamp real bad. I'm in serious need of one more Christmas decoration, and this lamp will do it. What can you do to help me win it? Go to Word to Your Mother and check out her Super Fantastic Giveaway. This giveaway is Super Fantastic, so feel free to enter yourself. Just give me the lamp if you win it ;)

I highly recommend you add this blog to your favorites. It's a doozy.