Doing Laundry

When I was in college and living in student apartments, I used to have to do laundry in whatever laundry facility was available. Some of you know that the term "doing laundry", which started out meaning actually washing clothes, became synonymous with something else entirely. When you lived in an apartment with six people, sometimes the best place to "do laundry" was in the laundry facility at the apartment complex.
For the last five years or so, I have lived in places where I actually have a washer and dryer readily available and also don't have six roommates. Doing laundry has not been as big of a deal as it used to be.
Recently, my situation changed. I no longer have a washer and dryer in my house, but fortunately for me, I live across the street from a laundromat. Doing laundry is now something I actually have to plan for, and I will do laundry anytime I have a chance. And by that, I mean actually washing my clothes. I haven't actually visited the laundromat yet, as I have been washing my clothes at my mom's house or my sister's house. In an emergency, I have even washed clothes at my friend Natalie's house.
Last weekend, I was leaving my house, and I looked across the street at the laundromat, and there was a person sitting on a bench in front of the building who looked like a transvestite prostitute. I know that sounds harsh, but it was 9:00 in the morning, and the person was in full makeup, super short skirt, purple top, and tall boots. Really weird. I immediately called Natalie and made her go check out the situation. She agreed with my description of said person. I'm not sure if this person was washing their clothes or not, but just seeing her (or maybe him) at the laundromat gives a whole new meaning to "doing laundry".

Effective Communication

Alexis: "hey, can I ask you a question?"
Nicole: "sure"
Alexis: "I am classifying some files in the blah blah blah. Something something something, and some more blah blah blah." Pause, as if waiting for response.
Nicole: "I'm sorry I didn't hear the last 45 seconds of your question."
Alexis: "I've only been talking for 45 seconds."
Nicole: "Yeah, I know."

Two cities and a town

I have been known to add certain words to my vocabulary that make most other people say "huh?". A few of these are things like groshe, sassy pants, "H" no, and rockstar. A few vocabulary items have been making a strong showing lately, and as a service to my friends and family, I am defining them below.

Yum City: The population of yum city is vast and varied. Some of the most recent additions include rice pudding, sweet potato fries w/dipping sauce, and Joel McHale. New residents are always being added, but lime popsicles, snow cones, chic-fil-a chicken nuggets, Dole Whips at Disneyland, and George Clooney are long time residents. I am the leader of yum city, and I can include anything or anyone in the population. Something is included once it is deemed to be "yum city". Example: "mmmm, these french fries are yum city." This also works when referencing people, but people can also be inducted into the community just by called them "yummy". Example: "Jim Halpert is yummy."

Sketch Town: Sketch Town is a location within Shady City. The residents of Sketch Town are slightly mysterious and sometimes a little scary. A new resident was added tonight, and it's name is La Puente. La Puente is a Mexican restaurant located on a dark street, and at 7:00 on a Saturday night it had two guests: me and my friend Natalie. I think the restaurant may be a front for a money laundering operation.

Shady City: The residents of Shady City are more familiar to me and usually make me somewhat uncomfortable. My across the hall neighbor is totally Shady City! I think he is growing pot in his front window, and for the last week or so I thought his wife was dead in their house. I hadn't seen her in awhile, and the most logical conclusion I could come up with was death. It may have been an extreme conclusion, but her husband is Shady City, so I was a little suspicious. I saw her last night, so maybe she was just on vacation or something.

I don't lead Sketch Town or Shady City, I just dictate who resides there. A declaration that something is Sketch Town or Shady City is binding and cannot be undone without an official decree by me. That makes me pretty powerful, so let this serve as a warning...here today, sketch town tomorrow.

Baby Neutral

I'm a single girl who may or may not have children one day. Don't get me wrong, I love my nieces and nephews-they are all super cute, but I am not one of those girls who is baby hungry. I usually don't have strong feelings one way or the other, but sometimes things change. Sometimes my nephews are so cute, I think, how could I not want one of these? Hearing those little voices begging "Aunt Cole" to have a sleepover or jump on the trampoline can make my heart melt. But, those same voices can also get really loud when fighting with each other. And sometimes their hands are really sticky. And don't get me started about changing diapers...actually I couldn't start, I have a no diaper changing policy.
Well, there is something new that is making me tilt toward the no baby side. I work with a girl who had a baby a few weeks ago, and while she was pregnant she entered a contest where she could win a nursery by having the best "baby bump". She posted her picture online, and then everyone if the office went online to vote for her. There were probably 200 entries, so we had to look at a lot of baby bellies, and some were really gross. This didn't really phase me, but that all changed today.
I had a little extra time at work today, and I was reading through some blogs (aka blog stalking), and I came across one from a girl I worked with in college. There was her naked baby filled belly, and it was gigantic. It totally freaked me out. It was like a train wreck, and I couldn't look away. The belly was huge. It was like there was a mutant in there!
I feel like I should have had a different reaction. Why don't I see that belly and think "how beautiful". Instead it makes me think "never". I think I need some serious cute niece and nephew time to push me back to the other side or at least make me baby neutral again.

A few thoughts on candy

As I reflect on this past Halloween season, there are a few important lessons that I have learned.

1. Fun size snickers are the best size snickers. The miniatures are too small and don't have the correct proportion of carmel/chocolate/peanuts/other chewy stuff.
2. Full size twix are the best because there are two. One for now, one for later. Or, both for now.
3. Nerds are too sticky. My nephew Owen tried to share his nerds with me on Halloween night, and when he tried to put them in my hand, they were stuck to his. Gross.
4. Bit-O-Honey are for the mature candy palate. I didn't think I liked them when I was a kid, but now I love them. Especially if they are fresh and still kind of soft.
5. I love candy.

Yikes

There is a spider in my house. I live by myself, so there is no one else to get it. Yikes. I'm not sure I can sleep knowing that in my small 600 square feet of space, a spider is ready to pounce. Maybe this is a good reason to get married.

Yahtzee!!

I have a friend named Kelly, as do many people who read my blog. I have never met anyone who hates Yahtzee as much as she does. I'm not in love with Yahtzee or anything, but how fun is it to yell Yahtzee at the top of your lungs? I'll answer...very fun. I have never understood Kelly's aversion to Yahtzee, and I may still not fully understand, but after today, I do appreciate it.
There is a store called Buckhorns that I walk by on my way to and from work. Pretty much everyday when I walk home, and sometimes in the morning when I am going to work, there is a lady sitting on the steps of Buckhorns playing electronic Yahtzee. For a long time, I thought she was the reincarnation of a woman who died/was killed/overdosed (depending on who you talk to) that lived in the building next to me. This may seem like a stretch, but she kind of looks like she could be on drugs, she is probably fairly lonely, and she is haunting the stairs of a store just a few blocks away from where she died. Rational conclusion, right?
Today on my way home, I walked past Buckhorns, and the lady was laying down on the cement by the door with her head obscured from my view by a bush. As I passed her she yelled out "Yahtzee!" Instead of being excited for her, I just thought it was kind of sad.
Kelly is as far away from becoming this woman as she could possibly be. I, sadly am not. I like Yahtzee. If I don't control my feelings for Yahtzee and let them get out of control, my love of the excitement of screaming out Yahtzee! could turn me into her. So Kelly, I want to say thank you for being such a good example of being Yahtzee averse. Your example may save me from going down that slippery slope that is Yahtzee addiction.

Creepy Parking Guy

The parking attendant at the building I work at is creepy, and not just because he is 40 and works full time as the parking garage attendant. Let me elaborate...
Occasionally I ride my scooter to work. The sign at the entrance of the parking garage says "no motorcycles", but when I first started working at the building, I went to talk to the parking guy about the possibility of parking my scooter in the garage. This was before I realized he was creepy. Although his stringy long hair gave me the idea that he might possibly be creepy I had not solidified my opinion. He told me that I could park my scooter right by the parking booth at the exit, and if I left my name, number, and company I worked for, he would call me if there were any problems. Great, I thought. Problem solved.
I rode my scooter to work the very next day. I happened to be wearing a dress (please reference earlier post about the perils of riding a scooter in a dress). As I was leaving the garage, I just waved and said thanks for letting me park there. He said "you can park here any time if you are wearing a dress." Yuck. The next time I rode my scooter in, I made sure to be wearing pants.
Well, it has been awhile since I have (riddin, rided, rode-take your pick) into work. I usually walk because my office is less than a mile away from work. I was running late today, and it was a nice morning, so I rode my scooter. As I am walking out of the garage, creepy parking guy says "good morning Nicole". It has been at least six weeks, if not longer, since I have come to work on my scooter, and he still knows my name. Creepy x 10!!!
One creepy encounter per day is my limit, so this afternoon when I saw him walk around the corner when I was waiting for the elevator, I almost decided to take the stairs. Eight floors isn't that many, right? But three inch heels make it feel like 16 floors, so against my better judgement, I boarded the elevator. Just me and parking guy for eight floors. Creepy parking guy says to me "It's my lucky day. I see you in the morning, and now I get to talk to you on the elevator."
A lucky day for one is a creepy day for another.

Cheap and Easy

One of the first things I did after moving to Salt Lake was to get a library card. The Salt Lake library is really cool, and I kind of feel like I am a member of a fabulous club which you need a special card to get in to, or at least take anything out of.
After I got my library card, I checked out a few books. I have been trying to cook more, and I checked out a book called "Cheap and Easy, a Cookbook for Girls on the Go". I thought the title was funny, and some of the recipies looked good. Over the past few weeks I have been really busy, and I haven't made one thing out of the book. Sadly, now it is time to return it. I think this means that I am a girl on the go, but hopefully not cheap and easy.

Monkey Bars are for Monkeys

My nephew Spencer has been accused of being a little stinker, a rascal, a cutie, but he has never been accused of being a monkey. What, then was he doing on the monkey bars??? Clearly, clearly, clearly he should not have been messing around with play equipment named for the only species that should use it!
On the first day of kindergarten, Spencer fell from the monkey bars....and he broke his arm! Tragedy! I don't blame Spencer for attempting to tackle what only a monkey should. I blame the elementary school. Maybe, long ago, monkeys attended elementary school, and the monkey bars are a remnant and a reminder that they were once there. But, I attended elementary school long long ago, and I did not have any monkeys in my classes at Edgemont or Rock Canyon elementaries. And still, the monkey bars remain, to the detriment of Spencer.
There is a bright side to the story though. Spencer has been immortalized as that kid in kindergarten who broke his arm. In my second grade class, Brook fell off the monkey bars and broke her arm, and I still remember it. Also, Spencer has the coolest cast I have ever seen. It is black and has his name painted in bright yellow letters with with orange and red flames coming off of it. I think the kids in his class might want to break their arms just to get a cast as awesome as his.
Spency, you are now wise enough to watch out for the monkey bars, but beware the jungle gym...it is only for lions tigers and bears, not for little boys!

Honey is for the bees

I started a new job a few weeks ago, and so far it is going okay. I have a whole new cast of characters is my life, so there is no more crazy Janet, but now there is singing Alexis. I'm beginning to think that Janet wasn't so bad.

Alexis started on the same day that I did. She is working as the receptionist/administrative assistant. At the moment, she sits at the front desk two days a week, but we share a cubicle for a couple of days a week while I wait for a pregnant girl to have her baby and give me her office. I'm not above sharing a cubicle, but I'm not sure that Alexis has been taught the basics of office etiquette.

I am an adult and I am a professional. I prefer for people to call me by my name, which is Nicole. I don't really mind nicknames, and I have had many. If you want to call me Nickelodeon, Nicodemus, Nick at Night, Aunt Cole, Coley, Miss Ostler, or (only every once in awhile) Nicki, I will answer. For some reason, Alexis thinks it is okay to call me, and every woman in the office, hun, as in short for honey. Really? Do we work in a nail salon and have bleached blond hair? No, I don't tease my hair, wear blue eyeshadow, or own pink pants. I think it is completely unprofessional and it makes me crazy!

Music is fine, and Alexis doesn't have bad taste in music. The only problem is that Alexis feels that she needs to hum or sing along. It usually starts out kind of quiet with occasional humming, but by the end of the day she sings entire choruses of songs. I just think it is annoying. I am trying to work in a very small area, and she decides to sing aloud. This isn't your car Alexis, there are other people trying to work. I don't care if you are Pavarotti, please don't sing in the office, hun.

Scoots and Skirts

As many of my avid readers know, I ride a scooter during the summer. My boss Craig tells me almost everyday that I need to be really careful because my scooter could kill me. There are precautions that I take in order to be more safe, such as wearing my pirate princess helmet, keeping a good distance from the car in front of me, and avoiding really busy roads like University Avenue and Geneva Road.
As mentioned, I have a really cool helmet with a sticker on the back that says pirate princess. I actually like my helmet, and I almost always wear it. The only times I don't wear it is if I am going somewhere pretty close to home, it is really hot outside and wearing a helmet would be unbearable, or if I really don't want my hair to be all squished down.
A couple of days ago, I was riding down to return a dvd that I had rented. It was a very hot day, and I was only going down to Blockbuster, which can't be more than a couple of miles from my house. Taking those things into account, I didn't wear my helmet. No big deal until my friend Collin spotted me. He is probably more concerned about my scooter safety than anyone else, and he sent me a text telling me to put my helmet on. His text made him sound very serious, and even though he couldn't hear me, I thought Collin is right, I should be wearing my helmet.
There were a couple of things that Collin didn't mention in his text. The first is I was wearing a skirt. I think this may be more treacherous than not wearing my helmet. When I ride my scooter in a skirt, which I don't do very often, I tend to pay more attention to how far my skirt is pulled over my knees, or if for some reason, my skirt is coming over my knees, I concentrate more on pulling my knees as close together as possible than I do on traffic around me. Stopping in a skirt is also a problem. Normally, I slow down, and then put my feet down when I am almost stopped. In a skirt, I try to only put one foot down instead of both. You could kind of think of it as the same idea of riding side saddle on a horse. I don't want to straddle the scooter in a skirt just in case there are a lot of cars close by or possible a pedestrian or maybe other scooter or motorcycle riders. Anyway, this kind of throws my balance of when I stop and go, and if I ever rear end a car while on the scooter, I am sure I will be able to blame it on a skirt.
The second scooter transgression I was committing was my choice of footwear. I was wearing my 2nd favorite pair of shoes. They are super cute kitten heel slides. The toe cover is cream fabric with green flowers embroidered on them, and there are a few little sparkles sewn on. The heel is probably only an inch or an inch and a half, so that isn't as much of a problem as when I wear four inch heels, but there isn't a back on this pair of particular shoes. A couple of times that day, I lost my shoe when I picked my foot up to start going. I would have to put my brakes on very quickly to collect my shoe, but I made it all day without losing my shoe.
Don't worry about my safety. I still know what is important. My brain, sure. My shoes, definitely!

Yellow Polka Dot Bikini

Last Sunday, my sister Stephanie and her three kids came over to my parents house. My super cute nephew Owen is three years old and has had a really hard time learning to talk. Now that he has finally figured out how to use his words, he never stop talking!! He came over to me and asked me if I wanted some bikini. Huh? I thought I had just misunderstood. Then he told me to eat some bikini bread. Bikini bread? I'm not sure that is modest! Finally, I asked my sister what was going on with all the bikini talk. Zucchini. Owen wanted me to eat some Zucchini bread. I think bikini bread sounds like it would taste better.

One (Uno) Leg Juan

I got home from Nicaragua a few weeks ago, and ever since then I have been really busy. I keep running into people that I haven't seen since before I left, and they all ask me how Nicaragua was. I thought I would outline some of the highlights and then I can just direct them to my blog. That way I don't have to keep telling the same stories and the popularity of my blog increases. Watch out Rebecca, I am going to start competing with you for most popular blog...

The best Nicaraguan story is about one leg Juan. We helped out on a building project for the first few days that we were in Nicaragua. The first thing I learned how to do was mix cement. We had to measure a certain number of buckets of sand, water, and cement powder. Then we mixed up the cement with shovels. I am telling you--this is hard work. I was mixing my first (and only) batch of cement when I made the comment that Kelly and I were the only ones mixing, and all the Nicaraguans that were there were just watching us. Our friend Brooke looked over and said that they were all watching us because when I leaned over, you could see down my shirt. Well, that was a great excuse to not have to mix any more cement, and I started a new job as the site historian.

This is how I really got to know Juan. I was taking pictures of everything, and Juan loved getting his picture taken. He started talking to me, but he only speaks Spanish. Unless someone is counting or saying the colors of the rainbow in Spanish, I don't understand. I was just smiling and pretending that I knew what he was talking about until Jon Portie came over to interpret. Juan had been telling me that he had been in a construction accident a few years ago, and he only has one leg. He got a prosthetic leg from the Red (rojo) Cross a few year ago. He then pulled up his pant leg to show us that he has a plastic leg.

Juan continued to talk to Jon, but quite suddenly Juan started to unbutton his pants. I had no idea what was going on. I didn't know quite how to react, and the only the Jon Portie said to me was "I'm not sure what he is going to show you this time". I wasn't sure I wanted to know what he was going to show me. He unzipped his pants and pulled one side down over his hip to show me that his plastic leg goes all the way up to his hip. I was trying not to laugh, but for anyone who knows me, you know that I am a giggly girl, and I couldn't hold it in. My face was red, I probably snorted, but I was glad I only saw a plastic leg and not anything else.

I think maybe Juan felt comfortable pulling his pants down in front of me because he had seen down my shirt earlier. Kind of like an eye for an eye. Or maybe in his culture pulling your pants down is not that big of a deal. I'm not really sure of anything except it made me really uncomfortable and nervous and was very funny.

Stay tuned for the next Nicaraguan adventure story!!

Recipe Swap Fiasco

So, I never, ever, ever respond to chain emails. I don't believe that I will have bad luck if I don't forward 10 people an email that tells them they are beautiful or loved or lucky or whatever. Usually these emails are deleted even before they are read. Recently, actually yesterday, I made one exception.
My best friend, someone who has been my best friend since I was 14 sent me a recipe swap email. I love her like a sister, and thought okay, I guess just this once I will respond. All I had to do was send one recipe to one person, and then forward the email to 20 other people. Even after I had decided to participate, it took me a couple of weeks to actually follow through, but yesterday, I finally did it.
I'll be honest, I am horrible at keeping in touch with people. When I don't see someone on a regular basis, I probably won't call them just to chat or try and get together to go to lunch. That being said, I don't have a huge number of emails saved in my contact list. Twenty people was kind of a stretch for me. Luckily, I have five sisters, one sister in law, and one mother, or my twenty emails would have been really hard to come up with. I barely managed to come up with twenty, but I did, and I sent off my email. (some of you who are reading this know that I sent the email, because you were the lucky recipients:))
I felt relieved. I did it, I came through for my best friend, and now she would receive 4 million recipes within 5 days, all of which would serve to keep her family healthy and happy for years to come. Sadly, this is not where the story ends....
Less than two hours later, guess what showed up in my email inbox? Another recipe swap request! Someone who I had send the request to had already completed their email, and someone they had forwarded it to had resent it to me!!! Ahhhhh!
Now what do I do? The person on the top of the list that I am supposed to be sending a recipe to is a really good friend of mine, and she responded to the original email almost immediately. I am back to the same dilemma of wanting to come through for her, but I can't send the email to the same twenty people as before, and I'm not sure I can come up with another twenty people. That is forty people that I will have sent this email too. And, what if everyone I send it to actually participates? I will have 3 billion recipes come to my email box, which will probably clog up my email, and I will miss really important emails telling me about specials sales at Banana Republic and J Crew while I am reading how to make macaroni casserole.
I feel like I have learned a very valuable lesson through this whole thing, forwarded emails are of the devil. Don't give in to even a little bit of temptation or you will get pulled in all the way. What starts out as twenty emails will soon turn into two hundred, and you will have to fight your way out.
P.S.-If anyone would like to be involved in a recipe swap, please forward me your email address.

Irrational Fears

Yesterday, I was driving to Costco with a couple of coworkers, and I made a comment about how I hate to drive behind trucks that have ladders coming out of the truck bed. I am always worried that the ladder might fly out of the truck and come through my window. Andrew asked if it was only ladders that I was afraid of, or if I was afraid of all objects in truck beds that could fly out and hit me. It is only ladders. I think this is rational. A ladder has two poky ends that could potentially hit you square in the forehead and kill you instantly...If one side misses you, the other is bound to hit you...right? Also, if both of the poky ends miss you, it probably means that the ladder decapitated you because the poky ends are on either side of your head, and the step that connects them has cut off your head. Morbid, I realize, but I also think pretty useful information in avoiding a potentially deadly situation! Because of this fear, I almost always change lanes or slow down if I see a truck/ladder combination ahead of me.

The other night, a bunch of us were at Summerfest in Orem, and I divulged another of my irrational fears. When I was young, for sure younger than ten, but probably older than four, I had a fear of getting taller. I know that sounds totally crazy, but I think I was very analytical for a kid, and at the time, it was rational. When I was young, I wasn't very coordinated...and I guess that is probably still true, but I would frequently trip or stumble, and on occasion fall completely over. When I was little, I probably wasn't more than four feet tall....hence the fact I was little. Falling over wasn't fun then, and I was worried that when I grew tall, like six feet, it would be less fun and hurt more. I totally think this is a fear that, at the time, made sense. I have gotten over it though. Since I stopped growing when I reached the towering height of 5'4", I have consistently purchased very tall shoes. My current favorite pair is 5" snake skin print heels, and I wear them with no fear, and I even relish the fact that they make me 5'9"!

Results from Lessons Learned in Kindergarten

My friend Luke invited me to a barbecue at his house this weekend. He lives in Sugarhouse, and I thought that this would be a good opportunity to preview what my new social life might be like when I move to Salt Lake. I went by myself, which made me kind of nervous because it is always horrible to be at a party or some sort of gathering and look around and realize there is no one for you to talk to.

I arrived at his house around 8:30, and I saw that the back gate was open, so I headed directly to the backyard. I looked around for Luke and saw him sitting with a group of people fairly close to the grill. The deal with this barbecue was that you had to bring your own food to grill and bring sides to share with everyone else. I put my kabobs on the grill and started chatting with Luke and a couple of his friends. My food was almost ready, so I went inside to find a plate and fork, but by the time I got back, Luke had left his original post and was standing on the other side of the yard.

I honestly didn't know anyone besides Luke and his brother Heber at this barbecue, and I was a little nervous that I would feel so awkward and make up some excuse to leave early. Well, I got my food off the grill, and found an unoccupied chair in a circle with a bunch of people I had never met. I'm sure they looked at me wondering who I was, and what I was doing there. It isn't that they weren't nice, but they didn't know me, so they really didn't have any way to involve me in their conversation.

I was feeling really lame, and then I remembered...I had brought two bags of candy with me as my "side". Lessons from kindergarten kicked in...if you share your candy, people will be your friends. I found a great moment to break into the conversation when one of the girls was talking about shoes, and then I pulled out my secret weapon, Sour Patch Kids.

I opened the bag of candy while we were discussing shoes. I ate a few pieces, and then asked if anyone else wanted some. A few people took me up on my offer, and then they asked me what my name was. It was like magic. Then I broke out the Kookaburra Licorice, and things really took off. I ended up judging a whistle off in which three people whistled "Hit Me Baby One More Time" by Britany Spears, and I helped choose the best whistler. I also learned how to whistle by cupping my hands together and blowing into my thumbs, and I met someone who had seen one of my favorite movies--"The Diving Bell and the Butterfly", and no one has seen that movie. I had tons of fun!

I got ready to leave a little before 11:00, but before I left, I went looking for Luke to say goodbye. I hadn't seen him in over an hour, but I still said thanks for the invitation because I had a really good time.

Over the course of the evening, my new friend Cory, or Cody, or something like that, kept telling me he didn't want any more Sour Patch Kids, but every few minutes he would reach over and take some from the bag. We all know that we should share our toys, but if you want your friends to keep coming back, it helps if you have an addictive sour coating.

I'm the sun, so back off

It's been awhile since I last blogged because I haven't really had anything bloggable happen to me. The following event wouldn't normally be bloggable, but lately I have been a little on edge with stress and a lot of big decisions, so a normal non-event got me a little more worked up than it should have.

A friend and I had planned to meet at Kiwanis Park at 9:30 tonight to play tennis. I got there a couple of minutes late, and I didn't see her there. I did see that all three courts were already full, and I could see at least three sets of people waiting to play. Obviously the chance of us getting a court in the next 30 minutes or so was slim to none. While I was assessing the situation, someone from one of the courts walked up the hill to my car. I unrolled my window, and he asked if I could turn off my headlights because they were interfering with the tennis game on the courts below. I happily turned my lights off.

At this point, I called my friend, and she said she was on her way. While we were discussing the situation, the same person walked back up the hill and again asked me to turn off my lights. Well, my car has daytime running lights, and while I am sure there is some way, I don't know how to turn them off. There is not an "off" or "auto" on the wand that turns the headlights on.

I was only going to be there for a couple more minutes, so I just told him that I couldn't turn them off. We then had the following conversation:
He said "there has to be a way to turn them off."
I said "I'm only going to be here for a couple minutes, and I don't know how to turn them off."
He said "Your lights are right in my friends eyes, and he is losing his game because of them."
I said "I don't know how to turn them off."
He said "Could you move your car then?"
I said "I'm leaving in less than two minutes"

This whole converastion takes place while I am talking on the phone. Normally, I would have just turned off my car, problem solved. Or, I usually I would not have a problem moving my car. The real problem was I have been super stressed and not all that rational as of late. Also the fact that he was trying to get me to focus on him completely while I was on the phone discussing where else we could possibly play tennis and was already planning on moving my car because I was going to be driving away shortly just elevated my frustration with him. Who was this yea-hoo that thought he could tell me what to do. I know what you are thinking...this really isn't a big deal. I know, I really do know, but for some reason I was really annoyed.

Basically, I ended our conversation by rolling up my window while he was trying to tell me how I may be able to turn off my daytime running lights. Hopefully he doesn't have a blog, or he is probably writing about this super bratty girl he met in the parking lot of Kiwanis Park. Anyway, if it was up to me the end of our converastion would have gone like this.

I would say "I'm leaving in just a couple of minutes, and you should tell your friend that this is a lesson on why we switch sides after every odd game in tennis. He should look at me like any other annoying element when you play a sport outdoors...I am the sun, so back off!"

My assistant Andrew

I have a hilarious assistant named Andrew. Last year, on my birthday, he put my stapler in jello with a note that said "World's Best Boss". This year, on April Fools Day, he covered up the optical sensor on my mouse with a note that said "Happy April Fools Day". Funny pranks are only one of his many great talents, and today I learned about another one of Andrew's talents.

Andrew has an amazing skill that he can say any word backwards. I realize that anyone who can read can probably do this, but Andrew can do it immediately. It is awesome. Any word that you give him, he can pronounce it with the letters in reverse. Some of the words we tested him on are as follow:

Werdna=Andrew
Ecitcarp=Practice
Tnelat=Talent
Htaeh=Heath (Heath is my boss's name)

I am not kidding when I say that he can reverse these words immediately. He does not spend even five seconds reorganizing the letters in his mind before he says the word. He does say that the pronunciation is subjective, like we would discount this skill if we thought he should pronouce something differently.

Werdna si taerg!

Web of lies

I have this friend, and for the sake of anonymity, we will call him Bruce. Bruce and I have been talking about going to a cycling class at the gym together. It really hasn't worked out, and we have never been able to go. Last night, we kind of talked about going to the 9:00 class, and I told him that I thought I might be able to make it. Basically, I didn't say no, but I knew in my head that I probably wouldn't go.
Today, I sent Bruce the following text: "Cycling was great. Where were you?". Harmless, right? Well, Bruce sent me a text saying he was late for the class so he ended up going to cardio cinema at another gym. He said he felt bad that we didn't meet up. I said that it was okay, and maybe we could go on another day.
So far this is not a huge deal, other than I made someone feel bad for no reason, and I sent a follow up text saying how great the class was, and that he really missed out, therefore continuing and expanding the original lie. Bruce is going to the cycling class tonight, and asked if I wanted to go. I honestly can't go because I am playing tennis, but when I said this to him, I told him I was playing tennis at 8. Well cycling is from 6 to 7, so if I was playing tennis at 8, I could make it to the 6 o'clock cycling class. I had to text Bruce back and say that I was actually playing tennis at 6, which is true, but now it sounds like a lie to get me out of going to cycling.
I have started down this path of lies, and now my lies sound like truth and my truth sounds like a lie. I need to stop this before it gets out of hand! But, have you ever seen a really intricate spider web? Sometimes they are really cool, and maybe if I lie about enough stuff my web of lies could be really cool too.

Finding Love at the Gym

Last night I was at the gym running on the treadmill, and in order to stay entertained when I run, I frequently people watch. You never really know what you will see at the gym. Last night, I saw a guy leaving the gym with a perfectly manicured faux hawk, and I thought, he probably didn't really work out, but he probably did find some "hot chicks". I always think it is funny to watch guys flex in the mirror, and there was definitely some of that going on. But, the funniest thing was two people who could not contain their love for each other, even while hot and sweaty at the gym.

I don't know about everyone else, but I can't imagine anything grosser than being hot and sticky and then having someone put their arms around me. Yuck. Well, these two were working out on one of the weight machines directly in front of my treadmill, and every five seconds they would kiss. Then, they just stood by the machine and started kissing very passionately. They guy had his arms all the way around the girl for a few minutes. This is right in the middle of the gym!

Anyone who knows me knows that my face does not hide anything. I had a look of pure disgust on my face. I just couldn't look away. It was like a horrible accident that you don't want to see, but you eyes are just drawn to it. Well, the boy involved in this public makeout session looked over toward me and saw the look on my face. I don't think he was even embarrassed, but he took his girlfriend's hand and they walked to a machine a little farther away. I was grateful, but since I had lost my entertainment, I stopped my treadmill and headed home.

I think that might be one of my tests of true love...do I still find him attractive when we have both just worked out and are very stinky. Don't worry, I will never love someone enough to let him makeout with me at the gym.

The Rejector Has Left the Building

Happy Day and Hallelujah! My rejector has moved to another state. I said my final goodbye last night. I wanted it to be a high-five, but as I put up one hand, he extended both of his, so he could hug me. Oh well, at least I don't have to do it again. As I was walking to my car, I started thinking about what I had contributed to our relationship, and what he had contributed. Here is what I came up with...

My contributions to him:
I took him to the airport
I fixed a throw pillow from his couch
I listened to him talk endlessly about buying a new car, which he never actually purchased
I watched a couple of homemade movies that he thought were really cool
I listened to his analysis about various relationships he had been in

His contributions to me:
He publicly insulted me over the pulpit in sacrament meeting
He told me that my favorite hobby was lame
He made fun of a talk I gave in sacrament meeting
He faux rejected me (see earlier post)

Somehow, I think he got the better end of the deal. Note to self, don't let this happen again.

Poor Fashion Choices

I don't claim to be the most fashionable person, but I consider myself to have pretty good fashion sense. I think that qualifies me to judge other people on their poor fashion choices. Today, everywhere I looked, there were people who needed me. They needed my criticism and advice, and I really think if I would have given it, I could have improved their day, if not their entire life!
We do not have a dress code where I work. Sometimes I wear slacks, sometimes I wear jeans, and sometimes I wear a skirt with flip flops. It's pretty much an anything goes kind of place to work. I have always enjoyed this aspect of my job (even when I dislike pretty much everything else), until today. We have an in house lawyer, and his fashion choices are a bit hit and miss. One day he will be wearing a suit and tie, and the next day he will be wearing purple corduroy pants and a braided belt. I know...scary. Today was the craziest that I have seen. He came into work around 9:00, and he was wearing track pants and a long sleeved Under Armour shirt. In addition, he was wearing some pretty sweet sandals and white tube socks. When he walked by my office, I gave him a funny look, and then worked on holding in my laughter. I kind of thought he would be in and out, since he was dressed to go to the gym, but nope, he was in the office until around 4:30. I probably should have said something to him, but instead I just talked about him behind his back to everyone else in the office.
The bad fashion did not stop there, but that was the most glaring example. I had another run-in with a fashion disaster at Costco during my lunch break. While I was standing in line to check out, I noticed the girl in front of me was wearing sweatpants with something written on the bum. You know the sweats from places like Victoria's Secret that say "Pink" on the bum...she was wearing those kind of pants. But hers must of been very old, or purchased when she a quite a bit smaller. The silk screened words across her rear had stretched to the point where the silk screen had one large space right down the middle (basically down her crack). It made her look ginormous!! If you are confident enough to have words across your bum, look again to make sure they are having the desired effect.
The third and final fashion mistake occurred as I was leaving work. It was Crazy Janet's last day at work, and she was passing along the last few piles of paperwork to Jennifer and I before she left, and I noticed her zipper was down. Now, this would just be embarrassing normally, but this was the second time I had seen this occur in the last week. And, both times it was in the same pants (white jeans). This causes me to believe that these pants have an actual problem with the zipper. I mean, who actually forgets to zip up their pants more than once a year. It seems like if you forget once, paranoia sets in and you double check that your pants are zipped about 50 times a day. So, the final lesson is if your zipper is malfunctioning, don't wear the pants!

Did I just get rejected??

Recently, a couple of my friends have told me about being "faux" rejected. I could totally sympathize with them even though I had never personally experienced this crazy phenomenon. That is until this weekend. I totally got faux rejected on Saturday night, and I am very upset!
Some may ask, what is faux rejection? Let me explain by describing my own experience.
A bunch of my friends went out to dinner this weekend. As we were walking out of the restaurant, one of my friends came and put his arm around me. My natural reaction was to then put my arm around him. I thought he was going to say something like "how was your dinner", or "how was your day". Instead he said "Does this make you uncomfortable?" Now, why would that make me uncomfortable? We are friends, and I didn't assume his arm around me meant something else. I told him this, and instead of having a normal conversation, he then turned his head and kissed me on the cheek. Yep, he kissed me on the cheek. Now I was slightly uncomfortable, but I still didn't make any crazy assumptions, and just laughed about it and started talking to everyone else.
No rejection so far....right? Keep reading! It was probably 60 seconds later, and I had started to discuss a different topic with someone else when the rejector came up to me and said "don't be too excited, I was just kidding around." That made me feel totally rejected and confused! I didn't do anything to make him think that I thought he was coming on to me....did I? I'm not interested in him....am I? I didn't, within 60 seconds, become a crazy girl who reads into even the most minute actions...did I? The answer to all of these questions is NO! But somehow I still got rejected.
I think the lesson to be learned here is always be the first to reject. Read into everything that anyone does and make sure you feelings are vocalized immediately. Do not hold your tongue just to save someone else's feelings. You may be tagged as a crazy person, but you will not be a victim of the faux rejection!

Inagural Post

So, this is my very first post. I'm not exactly sure what prompted this rash decision to start a blog, but Laura, rest assured, you were very influential. I am a little worried about the commitment I am making. I know that I depend on people to update their blogs, so I can be entertained at work. I have a hard time making a long term commitment especially when I know someone might be disappointed if I don't follow through. I am going to do my best, but as I am already feeling pressure just one paragraph into this whole blogging thing, I can't make any guarantees.

Please don't read my blog with any expectations. I will not be as funny as Rebecca or as witty as Liz. I am an accountant. Don't be surprised if I use accounting analogies or refer to debits and credits frequently.

Writing blog entries is kind of reminiscent to writing to a missionary. When I was twenty, I wrote to a missionary every week. After a couple of months, I found that my letters were a little boring. I started to keep lists during the week of things that happened to me during the week. There were things like dodging sprinklers while trying to run up the stairs to the Joseph Smith Building. Or, falling down the stairs in the Tanner Building. I have a feeling that I may start keeping lists of funny things that happen to me, but since I don't have BYU campus or very many staircases to cause crazy mishaps during the day, my posts may stay pretty boring. I apologize in advance. I promise to try and entertain you and keep you updated on my life.

Happy reading! Or, in the case that I am the only person who ever looks at my blog...Happy blogging to me!!