Stupid Girl's Guide to Ruining Love Day

Okay, so Valentine's Day is just a week away. And what do smart girls do when Valentine's Day is just a week away? If you chose take the relationship to the next level, you're wrong. If you chose get your boyfriend something nice, you are also a loser today. But, if you know me and my horrible luck with relationships, and you chose option c) they break up with their boyfriends, then you would at least be right one times out of a hundred, which works.

Honestly, what kind of an idiot breaks up a relationship right before the national celebration held in their honor, on the year when for the first time EVER they would not have had to celebrate it alone? Obviously, my kind of idiot. Why, might you ask? Well, if I knew the answer to that one, I probably wouldn't feel so stupid right about now. So, in honor of this unprecedented holiday, I give you my latest list:

The Stupid Girl/Guy's Guide to Chilling Alone on Love Day

A List of Helpful Ideas to Start & Finish the Day Off Right - And with a BANG!

1) You should probably begin by sleeping in. A lot. Possibly even miss a class or two, and/or work

2) You should NOT buy yourself or anyone else flowers, because they're just going to die, just like your hopes of ever being un-single again

3) You should not eat ANYTHING that is red, pink, white, or sprinkly. Unless Robbit and I gave it to you, in which case it is a yummy treat and you should indulge with vigor

4) Go see a movie that has a lot of killing and/or crap getting blown up

5) Avoid shopping malls, jewelry stores, fancy restaurants, and all picturesque places. Especially in Provo. Just trust me on this one.

6) Go to Wal-Mart at about 2am, and buy laundry detergent or socks (for yourself)

7) Go to Barnes and Noble. That's where all the other single freaks hang out, and you'll feel better and maybe even find a book about how to make your love life not suck so much

8) Avoid radio stations, and only listen to Albums from groups like All-American Rejects, Dashboard Confessional, and especially Fall Out Boy (all love-hating bands for the most part)

9) Call a single friend and don't mention Valentine's Day ONCE

10) Take your car to the shop

11) Find a gay friend and take them to a romantic spot so they can help you make fun of the couples

12) Find a gay friend and fake a proposal

13) Break someone up (just kidding, don't do that)

14) Go LARPing. (Those kids don't even know what a date is)

15) Watch 10 hours of AskaNinja, followed by Homestar and then what the heck burn out on YouTube

16) Get a tatoo

17) Go get your hair cut, or buy a new outfit (at Wal-mart, because you can't go to the mall)

18) Write a song about your favorite food item

19) Watch almost any movie with Sean Penn. Bound to be totally unromantic.

20) Go to the gym and make a game out of avoiding hitters on

And there's my list. This is foolproof, and if you do these things, I PROMISE you won't spend all your time being depressed about your (recent, in my case) singleness. And, as an added bonus, I'll probably do at least ten of these things, so you might bump into me and we can hang out. Rock on!

EARL's Gotta Die...

Okay, this is for everyone who HATES auto mechanics. Namely, most women. This isn't an untrained bias, mind you, but a deep and cultured loathing that has stemmed from years of experience with these crafty emissaries of Satan. Sure, they seem rather innocuous at first glance. Heck, most of them don't even look like they know how to tie their own shoes. But the second you walk into that grubby world of post high school curricular metal shop, you're in trouble. Because in this world, it doesn't matter that they only got a 12 on their ACTs and haven't smelled soap in years. This is their world, Honey. And you don't stand a chance. Because there's only ONE king of the castle, darlin. And his name is ALWAYS Earl.

You see, I'm one of those girls who has always thought I was smarter than Earl. I've spent enough time staring at the jumble of "stuff" beneath a car's hood to actually know a few things, and I've worked hard to learn certain terminology that makes me sound as if I know what the heck I'm doing. Words that say, "Hey, you know I'm perfectly capable of doing this myself but I just don't have the time. So I'll let you do it Earl but don't even THINK about screwing me over because I'm wise to your tricks." In the past, this has served me semi-well.

But then, my starter broke. And heaven help me I don't even know where the starter is or what it looks like. Still, I've been around enough to know that telling Earl that little fact is like opening a vein in the middle of a feeding frenzy. Not gonna do it, Earl. So I do a little homework, and then I pick up my phone. But here's the thing, I was prepared for an Earl. What I DIDN'T count on was a Doug.

So, I'm talking to him, giving him the basic information of the vehicle, year-make-model, etc... crusing along thinking "Yeah, I've got this!" But you see, whereas Earl is a completely predictable species, Doug is like the LX model for brains and craftiness. He not only has the bare essentials, but a few surprises thrown in as well. So, after a few moments (during which I had effectively dropped a few crucial terms like "displaced rod" and "fly wheel"-whatever the heck that is) he just came at me point blank with, "So, is it a dual-shaft cam, or a single-shaft cam?" Whaaaaat??? Uh... "Beg pardon?" I helplessly try to pull up Google on my laptop, Oh no, oh no! No doubt smiling evilly to himself he repeats the question. I can practically hear the dollar signs "ching ching" and I know that HE knows he's got me.

What the heck is a dual-shaft cam? Are you making this up, Doug? But no, there's no help at hand. Google has failed me and so I'm forced to give in. NOOOOOO!!!
Curse you, Doug. I'll get you somehow. Someday...

The Curse of the Wonderphobes

My friend Skinny is what you might call an individual. He is to most onlookers, a man apart. What most people see in him as mystery and a sort of aloof charm, I have come to know as shyness and a slight agoraphobic tendancy to fear public ridicule. As a result, he stands near the wall, smiling only occasionally and cracking only as many jokes as he needs to fulfill the minimum quota of social participation. In short, he narrowly avoids freakhood but is purposely forgettable to all those who don't know him personally. That said, this man is magnificent. He's good looking, talented, funny, charming, honest, witty, and extremely intelligent. So why, (as many of you girls are probably wondering) does he fy under the radar and escape your notice? Because I believe, somehow, he knows his potential and is afraid to be who he is. Because one thing I and many other Wonderphobes have learned, is that while people might shun imperfection, those that rise above are often hated and criticized even more.

Now, let's jump to another example. Dice, I pray you won't hate me for this but I've been thinking about it for a while. I have this adorable friend who is completely perfect for the role of Goldilocks as written by Stephen Sondheim in the 1980's. She's tiny, blonde, fashionable, and owns more shoes than most people have underwear. Enough said. As such, she is plagued by certain stereotypes, which I will now hasten to explode. Some people would take one look at her and others like her and immediately remark on their fashion, looks, ability to fit into the world around them so stylishly while inspiring trends and being effortless fashionistas for others to copy, role models of pop culture, doctors of the latest trends in music, etc etc ad nauseum. And sometimes, for many of these girls it is easiest to just go along with and encourage this image, because it seems to be what they do best. But not Dice. She not only happens to be one of the cutest and most fashionable girls I know, but (don't let this shock you) she is also one of the smartest. And I don't mean to sound elitist, but I know a lot of very smart people. Unfortunately, I don't think she sees herself in the same light that I do, because just like many of us, she chooses not to aknowledge her own brilliance. As one of my favorite lecturers Marianne Williamson said,

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear in that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the World. There is nothing enlightening about shrinkingso that other people won’t feel unsure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.

It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. As we let our own Light shine,we consciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear,our presence automatically liberates others."

So, for the Wonderphobes of the world, (myself included) I say that whatever is holding us back, whether it be a fear of physical, mental, spiritual, interpersonal, or miscellanious perfection, we need to let it go. And just feel free to be Wonderful.

Why Do We Pine and Willow?

Ha ha, trees. I am so terribly clever.
Right now, I know that I should be studying for my massive midterm tomorrow, the one that is exactly the week before finals and will cost me $5 to take, not to mention about 12 hours to study for. I know that I should give a flying fetch about school, and that I should be on my way to the library this very second. I know that I should NOT have gone shopping for two hours today for a new pair of black pumps with bows that I totally cannot afford. I know that I should not have bought that little black dress. And I DEFINITELY know that I should not have done any of the former for a guy, or worse, for the tiny possibility of a guy.

However, sometimes what you know wrestles with what you do. And sometimes what you know you shouldn't do gets the trash kicked out of it by the things you do anyway. So why am I, an intelligent, moderately successful, charming and attractive woman in her early twenties sitting here writing this when I have about twelve other places to be? It must be bad case of the trees. Because I AM Pining, I am oping, and I am willowing (wallowing) in my own discontent with my current situation. And I just can't seem to stop. I know I shouldn't be, and as far as timing goes let's face it--finals week and before is about THE WORST time I could have picked to go all lethargic and pissy. But whatyagonnado? It's almost Christmas and I'm sad, I'm lonely, I'm fed up with school and work (even though I LOVE my job, go fig) and I just want to kiss someone under the mistletoe and cuddle with hot chocolate. Is that so freaking wrong? Am I somehow more pathetic for admitting this? Or maybe I'm just one of millions who feel the same way, but I just can't take it anymore.

As far as predicaments go, this one really bites the big proverbial donut. Because with relationships, it kind of goes without saying that it "takes two to tango". I suck at tango, which makes it worse. Dam. And to make things even more sick, I went to the mall today and got to watch all the little families and couples walking around. After about 45 minutes of that, I was beginning to think the Grinch really wasn't such a bad guy, and Scrooge might have been right all along. Somebody help me! I'm making friends with embittered mythological characters!

Return to Eden

It's happened. I never thought it would. I swore bloody oaths that I would never return to that cursed place, that I would rather give up my unconcieved firstborn child than allow myself to be enslaved once more. But...then again I suppose it was inevitable. No one can truly ever escape Los Hermanos. Those that have tried ended up dead or worse, ...married. (Shudder) Still, there are some things I might have briefly missed over the past few months. Such as:

-The "Good Game" game

-Half understood conversations with dishwashing personnel

-Half priced quesadillas (pronounced cua-sahd-uh-laaA)

-Jalapenos

-Guys who can jokingly flirt without being creepy...

-Mexicans

-Peachy Ricos

-Spendable Cash and zero responsibility

-Obscure Lindon jokes

-Racherella

-The vatos

-Tight fitting tee shirts...to work

-Stockings being not-optional (okay that's what I don't miss)

-My favorite black person in the whole entire world

-My favorite mormon gay man in the entire world

-Chips, and salsa

NOT cake. But I don't think I'll be there long enough to be a problem, so bring it on.

It Almost Doesn't Seem Worth It...

Today in one of my journalism classes we had yet another polarized discussion about whether or not bloggers are journalists. Well, this particular one is... so take that Lippman!

I sit here on my couch with various religion paraphanalia in front of me, wondering if I will ever be able to bring myself to study it for my exam tomorrow. The main preventing factor is of course, the fact that I have a HUGE case of the "I really don't care anymore"s. I can't really say if this is brought on by: a) the fact that I'm already in my major and have no intention of going to grad school b) the fact that it's almost Christmas and I can't wait to go home, even for just a few weeks (but it will still be the first time in about a year) c) the fact that a stupid guy occupies my thoughts when he has absolutely NO business doing so--I told him he had no power over me and he obviously took it as a personal challenge--damn athletes. d) my roomate is banging around quite loudly in our kitchen or e) I'm stressing about my opera piece and I'd rather be practicing. There are simply TOO MANY reasons for me to not be studying.

Still, the fact remains that I will inevitably be sitting in the Testing Center at 9am tomorrow, gazing blankly at the test and thinking "woah, I really should have at least LOOKED at those dates" or "wait, WHO was the first person to be called as acting president of the twelve? damn." Then of course, I'll get kicked out and excommunicated for saying damn in the testing center... (although I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be the first, nor indeed the last to use a grey word in there) Poor me. I guess I should just abandon this lost cause right now. If I'm going to be excommunicated anyway, there's really no point in learning this stuff anymore. Is there?
How's THAT for slippery slope rationalization, huh?

Aw no my roomate and her boyfriend are embracing heavily in the kitchen again. Give me cancer now! Well, look at the time, I believe I shall run to the library!

Okay FINE...

Monet

Van Gogh

Picasso

Disco or not disco?

Tonight I stayed up until 2am making a dress. I don't know why I decided to make a dress after one in the morning, well actually I do. It's because I'm supposed to go to a Disco with my date tomorrow night, and I hadn't a thing to wear. So, being the creative and insomnious Goddess of fashion that I am, I decided to make something suitable to wear. And the result, I am not ashamed to admit, is HOT. But unfortunately, I didn't stop there. I then decided to go do my hair like Farah Fawcett (to complete the look) and what the heck why not some makeup too?

Then, being the Creative Photograph Goddess that I am, I also decided to take pictures. But the Adobe Photoshop Goddess in me didn't let me stop there. I then had to take one of the pictures and play with it (because it was just so artistic!) to see what I would look like if I had been painted by Van Gogh, Poussin, Picasso, and Monet.

Now, all I needed was jewelry. But I've come to the conclusion that the Goddess needs sleep more. So, I'm now going to take myself off to bed, after gloating because I just HAD to share my late night accomplishments with somebody. Maybe I'll even post my pictures...

It Occured to Me That I Didn't Have a Pink One Yet...

So, after a large amount of time has passed, I feel that it is now safe to resume my chronicles of life in the place that I once left. After leaving, then returning, then turning my life upside down and inside out I'm finally comfortable in my new surroundings. My new apartment is nice, quiet, (especially now that the married neighbors upstairs and the schizophrenic lady across the way are gone) and cozy.

However, absolutely nothing else in my life is the way I thought it would be. My new job is amazing, and they're thinking of promoting me and skipping a step in between, a huge contrast from the job I just left where I wasn't promoted even slightly after more than a year. The lack of drama and the overall kindness of the people is a rare thing, and sometimes I find myself looking at everyone and thinking "Man, they're about to be translated." Such is the on-campus work at a religious university, I suppose.

I also got in trouble today with my mouth (big surprise there). Actually, it wasn't really trouble but I still felt very chastised. My roomate told me that a lot of people might think I'm a snob because I tend to use a lot of "big words" when I talk. Well, gosh. If I'd have like, known that like sounding smart made a person ugly, I guess I like need to get dumber sounding real fast, huh? Geez! I don't know why, but for some reason that totally pissed me off. More so because I think I understand the truth of what she was saying. I really do think that some people might be a little imtimidated when a cute girl uses a word like "segue" or "cloying" (AND knows what it means, too) in everyday conversation. But I don't get pissed off at people when they talk about things I don't necessarily understand, like calculus. And it's not like I'm trying to show off how smart I am (trust me, I really don't think I'm that smart.) I just happen to have a colorful vocabulary and that's just the way I talk. She even went as far as to say that I should try to "write for my audience" so to speak, so that everyone would be sure to understand. I really didn't know how to take it, but it seems to me that a world where a woman has to hide her intelligence (no matter how she does it or who she's trying to not impress) in order not to scare people is a really screwed up place.

I still have no idea what guys mean when they speak "sports lingo", but I never ask them to stop using it around me because it makes me feel like an idiot. It's my fault for not knowing what a freaking "half-back" is, if you ask me.

Rant, rant rant rant rant.