Ramblings by Nicole

Wayne Newton's World

2011-09-08T23:14:00.000-07:00

It has been awhile since I blogged, but I had such a profound experience tonight, I just had to share it. I honestly think it may have changed me forever.
I am in St. George on vacation until tomorrow morning, and when I was planning my trip, my sister Susie told me that this documentary film festival was starting at Tuacahn. My nephew happens to work at Tuacahn, and he got us $10 tickets to the opening documentary tonight. As an added bonus, the documentary was about none other than Mr. Las Vegas himself, Wayne Newton! And, Wayne Newton was there to perform his greatest hits!
Greatest hits! Wayne Newton! What could be better? The answer to that question should lead an average person to another question which is "Wayne Newton has hits?" After tonight, I know the answer to that question, and the answer is no, no he does not.
The thing that Wayne does have is Wayniacs. Yep, he has groupies and they are called the Wayniacs. They go to his shows and laugh at this jokes. And that is saying something. He spent at least 15 minutes talking about Viagra and condoms.  Ick. This has to be the last thing I want to hear an old, toupeed, spray tanned man talk about. Still trying to erase this from my memory.
There was a woman sitting in front of me who really loved Wayne. She was hysterical when he came out on stage....riding a horse. She kept saying to her daughter...Its Wayne! and he's riding a horse! Its not like he was jumping through hoops of fire on his horse or anything, yet she was still so excited. I think she wished she was closer, because there may have been some undergarments she wanted to throw onto the stage.
A serious Wayniac in a sparkley red sweater walked up to the stage with flower for Wayne. He was quite delighted, and so he pulled her up onto stage, and I kid you not, they started kissing. Not like a kiss on the cheek, but like one step away from making out. Making out with Wayne Newton. Gross. Even if you are 75. Maybe she was a paid extra in the show. Why else would she put herself through that?
At around 10:45 my sister and I decided we had had enough, but then Wayne started singing one of Ferris Buellers greatest hits....Danke Shoen.  Apparently he sang it first, but I think Ferris Bueller sang it better.  Immediately after, we beelined it out of there. And so did about 50% (possibly 75%) of the remaining audience.
I leared a few things about Wayne Newton tonight. He has many dear, dear friends including, but not limited to, Senator Harry Reid, seven Presidents of the United States, the entire Rat Pack, Elvis Presley, the mayor of Las Vegas,a POW from the Vietnam War, and Lucille Ball. He cannot sing. Not even a little bit. He can play the violin. I am willing to pay $10 to see him if it comes with two free snowcones and a free order of roasted almonds. In order for me to stay any longer, it would have taken free dinner and a $3 refund.
I kind of feel like Tuacahn should have gotten my email address when I bought the tickets. That way, they could email me an apology for the worst entertainment I have ever sat through.

A Letter to Sean

2010-12-28T20:19:00.000-08:00

Dear Sean-
Remember the time that my Visiting Teaching Companion brought some treats to my house to have me take them to the girls I visit teach? It really is a funny story. The treats never actually made it to the intended recipients because it ended up that someone ate them before I could deliver them. I'm not sure exactly who ate them, but I think it might have been me.
You might be wondering why I am telling you this. Well, funny enough, it has happened again, and in the repeat performance, you play a significant role. In the new version, you are the Visiting Teaching Companion, and I am...well, I am still me. The treats in question are these really yummy Christmas cookies that you brought over to my house. You brought some for me, which were delicious, some for Maren, which I gave to her, and some for Luke, which were delicious.
I am writing this letter to apologize. But it might be a little bit your fault. We have been friends for quite awhile, and during this time, you should have realized that I cannot be trusted around cookies. I had to give Maren's to her immediately because after I ate the first cookie out of my bag, I knew the rest of the cookies were not safe. I didn't see Luke until tonight, which is like a week and a half after the cookies were delivered. They really didn't have a chance...especially because they were gone three days ago.
Please don't be mad. I have a problem. I know it. I think admitting it is the first step to recovery. I actually used to have a three cookie a day addiction. It took me awhile to get over it, and having all those cookies staring me in the face was just too much. I'm an addict, and you provided me with the drugs.
I told Luke about the cookies tonight. He convinced me that I should tell you. Actually, he told me that if I didn't tell you, he would tell you. I think it is better that it came from me. I really am sorry, and I'll try not to let it happen again. But it might happen again. And I'll be sorry then too.
Sincerely,
Your very favorite Cookie Monster,
Nicole

Adding Machine

2010-12-02T21:04:00.000-08:00

I am an accountant. What does that mean? It means that I count. As part of that skill set, I can also add. In fact, I can add like a maniac. Especially when you give me a 10-key. In fact, if there was a fastest adding contest between me and you, I would totally take you down.
A few years ago, my nephew Spencer was at Tithing Settlement with his parents, and the Bishop asked him if he had any questions. Spencer is clever. And he almost always has something to say. Unless you want him to say something, and then he will say nothing. Well, Spencer had a question. He asked "What is one plus one?". Spencer knew the answer, he was just checking that the Bishop also knew the answer. I am pretty sure the Bishop answered that one plus one equals two.
Well, this answer is both right and wrong. If I have one spoon and then a guest comes over and wants some soup, and I go and buy another spoon for the guest, then I have two spoons. In this case, one plus one equals two. (Can you tell that I had soup for dinner?)
About six weeks ago, I started drinking only one Diet Coke a day. In this case, one plus one always equals one. I think it is completely logical. Shockingly, I have discussed this with quite a few people who simply don't agree with me. They think my adding skills are faulty. I don't want to embarrass anyone, but apparently some people-Heidi, Susie, Judy, maybe Stephanie, possibly my mom, my niece Alli-don't understand basic Diet Coke accounting.
I drink my one Diet Coke at lunch. If I am at home for lunch, I get two cans of Diet Coke. Each can is 10 ounces. If I went to the convenience store and purchased a Diet Coke, I would probably choose something in the 24-32 ounce range. So, two Diet Coke's consumed at home is actually less than one, and doesn't even come close to breaking my Diet Coke rule. If I go out to lunch, I get my one fountain Diet Coke (which really is the best Diet Coke to drink). I fill my cup 3/4 of the way with ice...because who doesn't like an icy Diet Coke? Then I drink it as I eat lunch. On my way out the door, I refill my cup with a little more ice, and then top of the soda. I have technically only had 1/2 a Diet Coke because my cup was always 3/4 ice and 1/4 soda. If I was cheating I could have another 1/2 later on. But I am nothing if not honest. And logical.
I think my sisters, mother, nieces, friends, etc. should really learn to respect those three letters behind my name...CPA. I am a certified expert in adding. I might possibly be a certified expert in creative adding. Which is sometimes called creative accounting. Which doesn't really have a negative connotation, right? There is no need to worry unless I start talking about offshore Diet Coke accounting. Or if I have to borrow a Diet Coke from my neighbor to repay a Diet Coke to a friend who loaned me a Diet Coke as an investment. Then I might be turning into the Diet Coke accountant for Enron or Bernie Madoff. If it does come to that, which it might, please remind me that technically one plus one, in most situations, except for a very select few, really does equal two.

A Whole New World

2010-11-14T21:20:00.000-08:00

When I consider the times of the day (morning, afternoon, evening, and night), I would definitely say that nighttime is my favorite! The hours between 9:00 pm and 2:00 am are the absolute best. I have always loved to be awake during this time, even when I was little. I honestly think I am at my most productive, be it cleaning, reading, working out, sewing, etc., during these hours. Based on this, I would actually be a pretty good Superhero.  My job would be conducive to my favorite hours, out all night catching villains. Using that rational, I guess I would also make a good villain. Maybe even a better villain than Superhero because I'm not that strong (even though I usually pretend to be), and I don't have any actual superpowers, and unlike Batman, I don't have unlimited resources to buy superhero gadgets.
Sadly, when I was in college, there was not a major in either Superhero-ism or general Villain-ry. But luckily, I found something almost as good---Accounting! The only problem with this is that the type of jobs that are available to people with specialized accounting skills are usually not available with a start time in the vicinity of 10:00-12:00. For the last few years (actually seven years, if anyone is counting), I have been the last person to show up in the office at every job I have had. Sure, there are have been discussions with various bosses, but they have all come around and realized that a work day from 9:00-6:00 works out just fine. Also working out fine is a work day from 9:45-6:00 or 10:00-10:00 during busy season. My accounting skills are generally good enough that I have always been given a pass and been able to basically set my own start time.
Two weeks ago, I started a new job. This job is different. I REALLY wanted it, and I had to fight for it. I interviewed quite a few times over the course of nine months. Someone who I really respect recommended me for this position and gave glowing reviews to people at the firm where I was interviewing. When I finally got the job, I got an email from the HR person outlining my first day. The email contained words that equate to my worst nightmare...start time=8:00. Yikes.
I quickly realized that 8:00 meant 8:00 in the am, not the pm. 8:00? Who does that? Crazy people, that's who! It's practically like starting work before sunrise. I'm not even sure that it is healthy. But, out of respect for the person who recommended me, I thought I would give it a try.
Well, I'm two weeks in, and I've discovered something amazing. There is a whole group of people that are up and going between 8:00-9:30 every morning.  (Honestly, what time are these people going to bed?!) It's like they are all part of some kind of Secret Society, and they have now let me in. I am just waiting for an appearance by Robin Williams telling me to Seize the Day! (Dead Poet's Society for those of you who didn't catch the reference). It's kind of exciting. I feel like there should be some sort of password and secret handshake to signify that you are part of this super exclusive secret society.
If there was a drawback to membership in the society, it would be the fairly significant dues. I have a weekly Wednesday night date called "snick- snack".  During my first week at work, I had to cut the whole thing short, so I could be in bed early enough to get up for my secret society check-in. The second week, I had to cancel because I was so tired. I haven't watched the 10:00 news for two weeks, my DVR it totally overloaded, and at this point the Jay/Dave/Conan rivalry is completely irrelevant.
I am hoping my new schedule sticks, and at this point I am 60% confident that it will. The positives are currently outweighing the negatives. The one person who is really going to miss me is my boyfriend. We used to see each other at around 11:30 most nights, and now I'm long asleep by that time. So, I guess it really is time to break up. I'll miss his humor, height, house band, and nightly guests. I'm going to miss you, but you can take comfort knowing it really is me, not you. So this is goodbye Jimmy Fallon. That is unless you too decide to "Seize the Day", and join the cast of the Today Show. We early morning people will gladly accept you into our secret society.
If you have any trouble, let me know...I've got connections. But let me know tomorrow because right now, I've got to go to bed. Goodnight.

Fighting Words

2010-10-07T21:50:00.000-07:00

I’ve been practicing my fighting words. I really have. Ask anyone. But today, when I really needed them…they failed me.

A few months ago, I was in a kind of, sort of, argument. Argument might even be a bit strong, perhaps it could be called a heated discussion. This incident ended with me saying “it goes both ways”. In the heat of the moment, those were my fighting words. Yep, that’s all I had in me. I have told a few people this story, and when I get to the end, I’m always embarrassed that I didn’t have something better to say. Not because I wanted to say anything mean to someone else, but for the story’s sake, there could have been a much bigger ending…something like “yeah, well you smell!” or maybe “watch out, your’re going down, D-O-W-N, down!”. Wouldn’t that be so much better? For sure it would be so much funnier.

I went on a camping trip with my sister and her family over Labor Day. Stop laughing…I can camp (especially when there is a camper with a shower involved). Anyway, this is really where I started practicing and perfecting my fighting words. One afternoon I was sitting next to Rachel, my niece’s friend, and she pretended that she was going to flick a bug on me. Trouble. Bugs are not my thing. So what did I do? I poked her on the arm and used my best and most practiced fighting phrase…I hate your stinking guts! I know that sounds a little harsh…it was only a pretend bug. Actually, I think it was a real bug. But just a pretend flick. Anyway, it’s not as bad as it sounds, and when I say it, I kind of sounds like either a four year-old who is stamping her foot because she doesn’t want to eat broccoli or a cartoon villain with a deep, slightly mechanical voice. That way, no one stays mad at me too long after the fighting words are said.

After this episode, Rachel introduced me to some really good fighting words that I have since been practicing. You are ruining my life!!! Awesome, right? My first opportunity to legitimately use my fighting words was today, and instead, silence. So lame.

I have been interviewing for a new job for quite a while. I first interviewed last January and then started interviewing again in August. Continued to interview in September, and finally got an offer in the middle of September. I am starting my new job on November 1st, so my plan was to tell my bosses on October 15th. That way I could have a week or so after the tax deadline to clean up my desk, finalize some projects with clients, and feel like I had some closure.

Most of the people in my office knew of my plan. I know this sounds kind of dumb if I was trying to keep this from my bosses, but I really trust the people I work with. I feel a real sense of loyalty to them, and I think they feel the same toward me. There were a few people besides my bosses that I didn’t tell, but through eavesdropping, they caught onto me. I was a little concerned when I realized they knew, but I still thought they wouldn’t betray me and would be able to keep the news to themselves just out of respect for me.

Nope. I was wrong. You know what did me in. Business cards. My co-worker felt the need to tell my boss I was planning on quitting because she was getting ready to order new business cards for the office. How much do business cards cost? Is it really worth being the office tattle tell? Apparently it is. When I realized this is what had happened, I wanted to have an interaction similar to the camping interaction shared above. The poke would probably be replaced with a slap, the words would have been the same, but the tone would be more snotty teenager, less stubborn preschooler.

Instead, I said nothing. I am just practicing my silent treatment skills because I am so mad that if I actually speak to her I might really use legitimate fighting words. Because of her, I won’t be working until the end of October, I will only be there for another week. There is only one more week, and that week will define how I end up feeling about my whole experience at Daines Goodwin. So hopefully instead of focusing on how much I don’t like what this person has done to me, I will be focused on crazy clients and everyday office shenanigans. Hopefully.

I still might really want to stamp my foot and say the following very profound words, as first spoken by the little rascal Alphalpha….”I hate your stinking guts! You make me vomit! You are the scum between my toes!...Love, Nicole”.

I didn't hear you...my eyes were closed

2010-08-30T21:54:00.000-07:00

On occasion, I have complained about my job. Don't feel bad for me though, I already know that other people have it worse than me. There are tons of jobs I wouldn't want to do, but today I saw two girls who I think may have the worst job ever!
Being a CPA requires a certain amount of continuing education. Today, I attended a training class called Business Entities. It started at 8:00 this morning and got out at 4:45. I have to go back all day tomorrow as well. While it was very informative, I'm not going to lie, they can be a little boring. I went through four Diet Cokes, a hot chocolate, a pack of Starburst, and a bag of Peanut Butter M&M's. So, in addition to being informative, and boring, it is also going to cause me to gain ten pounds in two days.
I can't even imagine how bored I would be and how much more candy I would eat if I had to sit through two days of training and had no use for the information. There were two girls who were there as sign language interpreters. Now, don't get me wrong, I think this is a noble job to have. You are really helping someone else overcome a disability. But, the guy they were signing to was probably slightly less interested in the material than he could have been.
I'm not judging, I certainly had my moments of paying less than full attention. I even sent a few emails and text messages. But, quite a few times when I looked over at him, he actually had his eyes closed and his head was bobbing...definitely asleep. And then there were the interpreters. Still signing all the words to him, while he was sleeping. Then I glanced over, and he was playing a game on his iPhone. Interpreters...still signing away.
How frustrating! I'm sure those girls were bored out of their minds! The pros and cons of S-Corps vs. Partnerships isn't that exciting for an accountant. And, accounting instructors don't have the funniest jokes or stories. And usually those jokes and stories are centered around accounting principles, so they are very audience specific. And the audience they were signing to was asleep. I think at that point I would just feel silly.
If one of my co-workers was asleep, I would probably discreetly tap them on the shoulder. The only things these girls could do was to just sign more energetically or maybe start signing the wrong words or something. But the whole room could see them, so any action would have had to be pretty discreet. But, they remained professional throughout the day.
I'm sure at some point the interpreters really wanted to smack him, but after watching them today, I think they really could have had more fun with it. He obviously wasn't paying attention, and I know this because I wasn't paying attention because I was watching him. So, instead of paying attention they could have talked about how bored they were. No one would lean over and tell them to be quiet because they wouldn't be making any noise. I guess that could actually be awesome. Being able to talk all the time and not have anyone hear you or get upset. I take back my earlier comment. They might have my dream job!

I See Dead People

2010-07-18T23:04:00.001-07:00

Every dead person I know rests in Nephi. Okay, there are a few exceptions. But every dead person who I would deliver flowers to on Memorial Day rest in Nephi. So, there is one exception, and he rests in Moroni, which isn’t that different than Nephi. And, unless I’m with my mom, I’m probably not delivering flowers to anyone. But that isn’t the point. The point is, one day, I want to be one of those people. Not the flower delivering people, the other people, the dead people in Nephi.

Ever since I can remember, my parents have discussed where they are going to be buried. No, not as in what town they will be buried in, but where in the Nephi City Cemetery will they be buried. They both grew up in Nephi, and they both have family plots in the cemetery there. My mom always says they should be buried with her family, because the Hall family plot is at the top of the cemetery, where fewer cars drive, and it is shadier. She thinks it seems more pleasant to be in a quieter part of the cemetery. The Ostler family plot is closer to the center of the cemetery, and it is by as major of an intersection as there is in a cemetery. I don’t remember for sure, but it seems like the roads in the cemetery are dirt, so being by such a busy road might make the area too dusty for her final resting place. It makes sense to choose your burial plot using the same criteria you would use for choosing where to build a house, right?

It is odd to think about where you are going to be buried. I went through a phase where I was very concerned about where I was going to be buried. I was in my mid twenties, living by myself in Denver, and I would drive by a huge cemetery almost every day. It was very close to the Casket Mart, Discount Cremation, and other death-centric stores. I got very worried that if for some reason I died when I was living in Denver, I would get buried in this huge cemetery, and everyone would forget about me, and no one would come and visit me. It would be like one of those movies where the girl is taking flowers to her mother’s grave, and notices a crumbling headstone with weeds growing over it. She takes it upon herself to pull the weeds, wipe off the grime, and care for the headstone herself, purely because she feels such pity for the lonely soul buried below. You haven’t seen that movie? I’m not sure I’ve actually seen that movie either, but I’m sure it’s out there. Or it will be…when my blog gets made into a movie.

My mother, being the good mother that she is, calmed my fears by telling me that obviously I would be buried in Nephi. I have taken comfort in knowing that I will end up surrounded by friends and family,…that is until last week. Over the past few weeks, there has been some discussion about how each family will be allocating the plots. While discussing this with his brother, my dad had to concede that he will probably be buried up with the Hall’s. My mom had to call someone in her family to determine how many plots are left in the Hall section. There are eleven. She was telling me this on the phone and was going through the list of people who are quite possibly planning on being buried there. The list was long. Very long. With people I hadn’t even heard of before.

By the time she was finished, I was starting to worry that my place in the family plot was not secure. I voiced this concern to her thinking that my mother, being the good mother that she is, would calm my fears and tell me that obviously there would be room for me. Well, she didn’t exactly say that. She did offer to let me be cremated and placed on top of her headstone. What!? Now I am being forced to be cremated? Just because I might outlive eleven other people? This is totally unfair!! Two of the eleven spots are really already spoken for. And then, you add my parents onto that, and that makes four already taken, so there are only seven left. That isn’t very many. There should be some contest to allocate the remaining spots. I could study up on my family history and win a game of Ancestry Jeopardy, thereby guaranteeing me a spot in the family plot.

I guess technically there already is a contest. A race to the “finish”, if you will. But that leaves the questions, if I get there first, does that make me the winner or the loser?

Are You Smarter Than a Homeless Person?

2010-06-28T22:21:00.000-07:00

Let me start off by saying, I own a home. One word that no one ever uses to describe me is homeless. This alone should be enough to say that I've got some smarts. And, I think most people would assume that I have got more smarts than the average homeless person. Prior to this weekend, I would have agreed with those people.
On Thursday afternoon, I arrived in the Oakland airport, and proceeded to find the Air BART that would take me to the BART that would take me to San Francisco. I did my research. I knew how to get from airport to hotel. I was prepared. And, I was prepared because I am smart.
I got off the BART, and looked around and felt slightly overwhelmed when a homeless man approached me and asked me where I was going. I told him, and he pulled out a map and directed me on how to get there. Good thing Maren was with me because I was out of small bills and didn't have any money to give him. He was very helpful, and very smart. He was offering a needed service at a very reasonable price. That price being free for me...sorry Maren.
I had quite a few things planned while in San Francisco, and so again, I planned ahead, and looked up how to get where I needed to go using the public transportation available to me. The first night, it worked out pretty well. We got on the right bus, made it to Alcatraz, no problem. Well, just one problem...neither Maren nor I had exact change, so we ended up spending an extra dollar on bus fare than we needed to. On this bus, there was a smelly guy who got on right after we did. He spent the bus ride talking to himself. I also noticed that he didn't have very many teeth. A minute after he sat down, he stood back up and asked the driver for a transfer, and the driver handed him a transfer ticket.
We got back to our hotel later that night by just taking the same bus route but in the opposite direction. Again, no problem, other than the "exact change" sign still alluded us, so another dollar was lost.
I was feeling like a pro. I could get anywhere in this city. Maren figured out how to buy a Muni pass, so our exact change problem was solved. I was ready to go. And then, everything fell apart. No buses came when they were supposed to, the cable cars were always full, and we spent a lot of time walking around looking for the right bus stop (for buses that never came).
While riding on a bus that I hoped was going to drop me off somewhere close to my hotel, I saw a homeless guy on the bus who wasn't wearing any shoes. He pulled the cord for the stop he wanted and got off the bus.
How is this possible? On two separate occasions, I saw homeless people navigating a public transportation system that I could not for the life of me figure out. I am a college graduate, I have a CPA license, and above all, I have a home! I was being schooled in the field of public transportation by people who didn't have the know how to put on a pair of shoes or brush their teeth. This is not fair. How can I not be smarter than a homeless person? They can get on and off the bus at the appropriate stops, they have the right amount of money, they know how to transfer to a new bus...free of charge!!!! I can do none of this!!! I guess I will just have to take comfort that my teeth get brushed at least twice a day, and I definitely know how to put on shoes. Maybe I have to give these things up in order for the public transportation secrets to be made known to me. I'm not sure it's worth it.

Queen of Quarters

2010-06-10T22:01:00.000-07:00

Find a penny, pick it up, all day long you'll have good luck. I think this could be my mantra. I should chant this while meditating. I guess in reality, my mantra should be "Find a quarter, pick it up...".  This isn't because I feel unlucky, I just really, really like change, specifically silver change, and more specifically, quarters.
When I was kid, my parents owned a laundromat. Every Monday morning they would count all the quarters from the week before. They had to put all the quarters into $10 rolls.  The number of times that the total amount of quarters came out to exactly a multiple of ten was pretty much never. The left over quarters stayed in "the tray" and became my spending money during the week. The weeks when there was $9.25 left over were awesome!  I could ride my bike to Fast Eddies for penny candy, I could go to the BYU creamery with my friends for ice cream, and I could buy a cup of Kool-Aid from my neighbor's lemonade stand. Not all weeks were $9.25 weeks, sometimes there were weeks with only $1.50 left in quarters. Oh, the horror.  During those weeks, I had to resort to using the meager amount of dimes and nickles leftover in the tray, or just play with my friends at the park, eat Popsicles out of the freezer, and use my imagination to keep me entertained. Times could be rough.
My love of quarters has only intensified as I have gotten older. In fact, it has caused me to do a few things that could be seen as possibly unseemly.  Don't worry, its not like I'm involved in a secret underground quarter collecting society or anything. And, I'm not involved in an above ground quarter collecting society either. It's just, I'll do just about anything for quarters. I will pick up a quarter from the restroom floor at my gym. I won't even let my bare feet touch the floor when I'm changing my clothes at the gym, but I will put a bathroom floor quarter in my pocket, and I'll be excited about it. And, my friend Jen knows that four dollars in quarters will get me to do pretty much anything, (which sometimes leads to Hot Latin heartbreak).
Loose change is not safe around me. I'm serious! Do not leave spare change unguarded around me. I was in a friend's car a few months ago, and he was running into the store or something. I stayed in the car, and while he was gone, I obviously needed to find some "gum", right? I looked in the middle console, and what did I find?  Gum. But, in the ashtray, jackpot! Full of change. I didn't take all of it. That would have been totally obvious.  If I had taken all of it, when I got out of the car, my pockets and purse would have been jingling. I am way more sneaky than that. I probably took about $1.50 in quarters. But, I did fill up the coin slots in the middle console, so he would have easier access to change when needed. I think that was totally worth $1.50. In fact, he probably owes me about fifty cents, because I think it was at least $2.00 in effort.
I re-watched one of my favorite movies last weekend, and I had an epiphany! My love of quarters can be channelled into something positive. I am no longer going to let my love of quarters compromise my hygiene or turn me into a thief.  I can turn this destructive quarter behavior into something positive....a video game world record! "King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters" is quite possibly one of the best movies ever made.  I love love love it, and it has inspired me to channel my passion into something positive. This could change my life.  I think I could have a shot at being the Master of Miss Pac Man. But, let this be a warning to everyone, do not leave your quarters unattended.  Quarters are no longer just a want, now they are a need to help me attain my goal. And to accomplish a goal, theft is totally justifiable.

The Real World

2010-03-29T19:00:00.000-07:00

Currently, my life is being overcome with all things "fake".
Yesterday was the last day of Lent. For the last 40 days I have been a fake Catholic. And, I was a pretty good fake Catholic, if I do say so myself. I gave up the elevator this year, and I didn't cheat, at all. And what I mean by that is I didn't take the elevator until Friday. Which is technically two days before the end of Lent, but the first time I took the elevator, there was no other option. After I was forced to take the elevator on Friday, I figured Saturday was free game. Anyway, fake Lent went well, and I have given up my days of being a fake Catholic until next year.
I have been spending an exorbitant amount of time with my fake family lately. We eat dinner together every night, Monday through Thursday, at our fake dinner table. Luckily, the fake dinner table will again be the conference table and my fake family will become just co-workers on April 15th (April 14th if I'm lucky). Along this line of reasoning, I think my fake Dad is punishing me for some reason because he won't give me my fake allowance. Fake allowance isn't nearly as fun as a real allowance. You have to spend money, then submit it on an expense report in order to collect a fake allowance. Mine is currently three months late, and I think I might start some sort of a fake rebellion until I get the check.
I have a fake boyfriend. Actually, I have multiple fake boyfriends, but don't worry, they all know about each other. If you don't know what this means, you are obviously not single. Fake boyfriends are either boys you go on fake dates with but nothing else, or the reverse of that. Interpret as you will. I scheduled a fake date for April 17th with one of my fake boyfriends. He should be excited. It's gonna be fun. Should I be worried, that fake dating and fake boyfriends will turn into a fake husband? I'm not even sure what that would be. Hmmm...
I need something to ground me in reality. I always said that for my 30th birthday, I was going to get something fake. Luckily I didn't, or it would just be another thing to add to my fake life. But who knows, my life might be so grounded in reality by age 35 that I will need something fake just to keep things interesting.

The List

2010-01-31T21:19:00.000-08:00

As a thirty year old single woman, I have had quite a bit of time to shape my "list". Every single girl has a list; we all want someone who is smart & funny & understanding & kind, etc. etc. etc. My particular list has some unique items on it.

When I was a freshman in college (and pretty much through my junior year), I dated a boy who I thought I could marry. As things were coming to a close, I knew it wasn't going to work out when I asked him what his favorite restaurant was. His response was Sconecutter. Sconecutter. Yep, Sconecutter...as his very favorite restaurant. I knew it was over. And onto my "list" went "#1: Good taste in food (not a picky eater)."

Recently, this item has softened a bit, and perhaps become less important. But, there is an item on my list that will never change in importance. It is a major issue and will never move out of the top three. No, it's not money, religion, or age. It is cats. Any man who likes cats enough to want to own one, ever, is automatically off my list. I prefer someone who hates cats, but I would take someone who just dislikes them enough that there is a guarantee he will never own one.

***Side note: Freshman boyfriend really liked, even loved, cats. I should have known from the get go it wasn't going to work. This would have saved some heartache and tears (that were plentiful) after our three-ish year relationship ended.***

The other day I was playing a little game of "would you rather". You know the game. It's the one where you have two absurd options, and you have to pick the one "you would rather" have happen. The question came up of "would you rather marry someone who had a cat or someone who was illiterate?" I didn't even have to think before answering. I would obviously rather marry someone who was illiterate. Really. I would.

Some of you may say that this is crazy or illogical. But I disagree. I love to read, and I think I could teach someone not only to read, but to love to read. I would totally be a hero! I would be improving someone's life by leaps and bounds. He would appreciate me forever. I would have given him the gift of literacy! See, only good things would come from me marrying someone who is illiterate.

On the other hand, how do you teach someone to hate cats? I would be a villain, and he would resent me every time he saw a cat. He would reprimand me for swerving my car to hit a street crossing cat. (Relax, I'm kidding.) Only bad things can come from being involved with a cat lover.

I think I would have a more successful dating life it I start passing out my "list" to potential mates.

1. Hates cats
2. Weighs more than me
3. Likes to travel
4. Will wash my car
5. Illiterate

Sadly, my perfect match won't be able to read it.

Going Postal

2010-01-20T18:44:00.000-08:00

A couple of weeks ago, I was meeting with my boss about my yearly goals. One of my goals is to increase my network of female professionals to potentially drive referral clients. I admit that I am not that thrilled about this goal, and when I completed my outline of goals, this one only begrudgingly made the list. It was actually a "suggested" goal from my boss that I typed up based on his hand written notes. When I was typing it, I must not have been paying too much attention because for some reason, female was spelled femail. I didn't notice until my boss circled it and started laughing hysterically. Yes, hysteria, over femail vs. female. Maybe I was trying to increase my network of female mail carriers, and I was abbreviating with femail. Just wait until I am the "go to" tax girl for all mail women. Who will be laughing then?

Conclusions

2009-11-20T03:04:00.000-08:00

Because I enjoy popsicles, I may also enjoy snowcones. (logical and true)
Because I enjoyed Felicity, I may also enjoy Gossip Girl. (logical and true)
Because I enjoy chocolate cake, I may also enjoy chocolate ice cream. (logical but not true)

There are certain conclusions you can draw about people based on their known likes and dislikes. Netflix does this. Based on my movie preferences, they (Netflix) told me the following:

Because I enjoyed Pretty Woman, I may also enjoy The Little Mermaid.

Huh? Because I enjoyed a movie about an unconventional prosititute, I will also enjoy an animated movie about a mermaid who defies her father because she is in love with a human prince.

Completely illogical.
But true.
It's like Netflix can see directly into my soul.

Symphony, Spektor, and Stilletos

2009-11-06T23:58:00.000-08:00

This morning, I had a plan. Today was the day I was going to break in my new shoes. They are beautiful. I watched them online for a couple of months, and I finally purchased about three weeks ago. I have been admiring them for all this time, but I hadn't worn them yet. But today, all that changed.

See, the problem is, they are kind of tall. I wasn't sure I could last a whole day, so Friday was perfect. The only significant walking I have to do on Friday is from my parking spot to my office, which is about a block. I usually don't go to lunch on Fridays, so it was the perfect day to test them out before wearing them to any kind of significant event. I am going to Wicked tomorrow night in Denver, and if today went well, the shoes were going to be rewarded with a trip to the show.

Great plan, right? Well, at around 3:00, I got a text asking if I wanted to go to the symphony tonight. Fun! I had to leave early from work, so I could run down to Provo and make it back in time for the symphony tonight, so I didn't have time to go change my clothes/shoes after work. I would still have time after I got home, and regardless, I was wearing the perfect shoes to go to the symphony. You have to admit, they are pretty classy.

On the way home from Provo, I ran into some serious traffic, so by the time I got home, I was already late leaving for the Symphony. By the time we got there, the $16 tickets that we wanted were already sold out, and the next price was $37. One of our friends didn't want to spend that much, so instead we decided to go see Regina Spektor at In The Venue.

Have any of you been to In The Venue? Parking is not convenient, and it's not exactly the kind of place with a lot of seating. We parked a few blocks away, paid for our tickets, which ironically enough were $37, and then fought our way through the crowds to find a good place to stand. Yes, stand. For two hours. Regina Spektor was really good, and everyone around me wanted her to sing a few more songs, but honestly, my feet just couldn't take any more.

A few blocks to the car, and my feet were pretty much done. I love shoes. I am willing to wear five inch heels for a good portion of the day purely for my love of shoes. In my perfect plan this morning, my shoes' day ended at 4:30 this afternoon. The way things actually worked out, my shoes stayed out about seven hours later than their curfew. Don't worry, there is an appropriate punishment. As a result they will no longer be attending Wicked tomorrow night. I still love them, but my feet are very happy in their current state.

Donovan is going down!

2009-09-30T18:39:00.000-07:00

I could see his green shirt out of the corner of my eye. I had been running for about a mile, and he was still right next to me. I learned quite a bit about him during the second mile. His name is Donovan. His mom and grandma were both running, but were a little bit behind us. He has tons of friends, and I think half the town of Santa Clara was cheering for him along the course.

It was just past mile two that Donovan started to pull ahead of me. I was no longer looking at his shirt from my peripheral vision, but my eyes were looking straight ahead at the green shirt running away from me.

It was at this moment that I made the decision. Donovan was going down. I wasn't going to run with him for two miles just to have him leave me in the final stretch. A little sabotage was in order, and luckily I had Otter Pops on my side.

Instead of handing out water, the race volunteers were handing out Otter Pops. I don't think Donovan knew that he could just take an Otter Pop, so I yelled ahead and told him. "Hey Donovan, are you really going to pass up an Otter Pop?" Well, he turned around to get one, and I just cruised right by. Ha ha Donovan, you fell for my little trick, and now I'm going to win.

I was able to stay a little ahead of him, but I could hear that he was gaining on me when I heard some Donovan fans shouting his name fairly close to me. I really had to focus, but I saw the finish line ahead, and I made it through just two people ahead of Donovan. Hooray!!!

He was a worthy opponent, and he put up a valiant fight. He did win one of the raffle prizes at the end of the race. But his three foot, ten year old frame was just no match for my pure athleticism. Sorry dude. You know what they say- another year, another foot taller, so better luck next year.

Smoke much?

2009-07-13T19:41:00.000-07:00

It was probably about a year ago that my mom was with a group of her friends in Panguitch, UT at some sort of quilting retreat. The women made a quick stop at a gas station to fill the car up with gas, buy a snack or a drink, or whatever they decided they needed. My mom had the following, very unexpected conversation with the gas station employee...

Gas station employee (GSE): Is that everything? (As my mom puts her items on the counter)
My mom (MM): Yes. Oh, wait. Do you sell chewing tobacco?
GSE: Yes
MM: How much is it?
GSE: The cheapest is $5.00 (I don't actually know that he said $5.00, and I honestly don't really know how much chewing tobacco costs.)
MM: Okay, I'll take one.

As this was going on, my mom's friend was standing behind her, waiting to make her purchase. This was the first she had heard of my mom picking up a new "chewing" habit. Her eyes got wide, and when my mom realized there was an observer of the situation, she couldn't go through with her purchase. She realized how crazy she sounded, and she and her friend started laughing uncontrollably. Needless to say, she left the store without her "chew".

A couple of days ago, I stopped at my neighbor Maren's house. As I was walking in, our neighbor walked out of his apartment to go smoke on the stairs. When I walked into Maren's, my opening remark was "I'm so glad I don't smoke in the summer. It would be so awful to have to sit out in the heat and smoke. I think it would be worse to smoke in the summer than in the winter." Maren's mom was staying with her and was in the room as I made this comment.

I later learned that this comment made me a smoker. I'm just the kind of smoker who doesn't smoke in the summer. From everything I know about smokers, being one myself, this is a very common way to smoke-I call it seasonal smoking. Totally makes sense. I think I might just chew Nicorette gum in the summer, you know, to avoid the heat.

Okay, so my mom doesn't chew tobacco. She never has, and I'm pretty much 100% sure she never will. I think she heard that you could mix chewing tobacco with some other household ingredients to get rid of slugs or spiders or some other creepy crawly creature in your garden. She just happened to pick a very odd time to start collecting the bug repellent ingredients.
And, no, I don't smoke. Maren's mom just grossly misinterpreted my comment. Granted, she had to reach pretty far to turn me into a smoker, even a seasonal one, but maybe she had heard about my mom and her chew. Like mother, like daughter...right? Right!

Transitions

2009-06-03T21:47:00.000-07:00

My birthday was yesterday. I am thirty. I feel like maybe I am transitioning into a new phase of life. But today, I want to discuss a different kind of transition. The transition lens.
Transition lenses provide "healthy sight in every light", and wearing them probably does provide some kind of protection for our eyes, but there is a very disturbing side effect of wearing them. I like to call it the "Chester Molester" syndrome. You may be an upstanding citizen who contributes positively to society, but the transition lens makes everyone look, well, creepy. I think it is because the lens never really gets all the way clear. It stays a little gray all the time, and makes the wearer of the transition lens look sneaky.
I have only known a few people that have worn transition lenses, and everyone that I have known personally haven't been at all "Chester Molester". In fact, they have been very normal but obviously just made a bad choice in eye wear. (Steph- since my very favorite brother-in-law doesn't really read this, maybe you could just not tell him about this posting.)
Recently, I had an experience with a transition lens wearer. I was really more of an observer, but it made me wonder if sinister people choose to wear transition lenses to fit their personality or if the transition lens causes the sinisterness (is that even a word???). Maybe sinister is too harsh a word, I possibly should have chosen eerie, hair-raising, or menacing. (Can you tell I am using a thesaurus as to not use the word creepy too many times?)
The experience occurred in a Fast and Testimony Meeting. For anyone not aware of what this is, it is a meeting at my church where whoever wants to can stand up and share their feelings about the church/Jesus/Scriptures/etc. About half-way through the meeting, a guy walked into the back doors wearing a puffy coat and transition lenses. Once I saw the glasses, I knew we were in for trouble. He stood up and walked to the pulpit a few moments later, and his address went something like this:
"Hi, my name is Mark. I'm from the Rochester New York mission, and my mission president is my bishop. I'm a DJ. I just signed up to be a DJ last Friday, and my first gig is next week at SLCC. We are working to get some big acts to come to SLCC. We have contacted Miley Cyrus, and are working on getting her here." Yep, he gave a shout out to Miley Cyrus, but at least it wasn't Hannah Montana. He continued "I really like the University of Utah. You guys have really good dances here. I have recently contacted Radio Disney, and I am working on being sealed to Miley Cyrus."
Whoa. Two mentions of Miley Cyrus. CREEPY/SINISTER/EERIE!!!! I feel like someone should help him. I am pretty sure all it would take would be removal of the transition lenses. I think it would help him in all aspects of his life. It may even help him make some headway with Miley Cyrus.

It's Not Candy

2009-04-10T23:29:00.000-07:00

I try to give up something every year for Lent. My friend Jen does this also, and she is really good at it. One year she gave up chocolate, and at almost the end of Lent, I made this really yummy chocolate cake, and she wouldn't even have a taste of it. It actually caused a small bit of tension between us, and I think possibly ended in me vowing to never ever make her chocolate cake again. I'm pretty sure that I have since made her my famous chocolate cake, but you will have to ask her if you really want to know.
I am also fairly good at Lent. For example, last year I gave up shopping. I didn't buy anything, except one pair of pants and a shirt. But, I purchased those at Costco, which is a place where normally you buy food, and I didn't give up grocery shopping, only clothes/shoes, so technically it didn't count against Lent. This year I gave up candy. Anyone who knows me, and you don't even have to know me well, knows that candy is probably my number two favorite food. My favorite would probably be ice, which some people (Natalie) tell me is not actually considered a food, and my ice chewing is actually a sign of a weird disease. I disagree because you can't live without water, which ice is a form of, so having ice as my favorite food could actually save my life.
Giving up candy wasn't nearly as hard as I thought it would be. It could have been harder, but there are a surprising number of things that are not candy! I am providing a list below just in case anyone else needs help giving up candy.
1. Cookies. Definitely not candy. Even if the cookie has candy pieces in it, still not candy.
2. Gum. It usually is minty, not sweet. No nutritional value and has an actual purpose....to freshen your breath....duh.
3. Mints. Any kind. Especially the really yummy mints from the Pub at Trolley Square. Sometimes you have to sneak extra mints when the cashier isn't looking just to make sure you will have fresh breath all day long...and maybe for a few days if you can grab two handfuls.
4. Fudge. Fudge is a baked good, similar to a cookie.
5. Chocolate covered raisins. Raisins are fruit. Fruit is not candy. If you mix the chocolate covered raisins with pretzels and possibly some almonds or peanuts, then it becomes trail mix, which is pretty much health food.
6. Fruit snacks. Especially the fruit smiles from Wal-Mart. The word fruit is in the name. Health food.
7. Graham crackers. With frosting. Just crackers. and frosting. yum.
See, not so bad. But it has been a long 40 days. I have been stocking up on Easter candy, and I've got my Cadbury Mini Eggs ready to go. At 12:01 on Sunday, I will be tearing into my Easter basket. Well, I don't actually have an Easter basket, but I will be tearing into my Smith's plastic grocery bag and eating lots of things that are actually candy.

Blind Texting

2009-02-21T22:06:00.000-08:00

I am a horrible texter. Most of my friends know this about me, and most have them have gotten a text from me that says some thing like "pmtmdp gnd", which is the same as "sounds good" without the word function turned on. We laugh, and I vow to try harder to be a better texter. As much as I don't prefer text, I understand the ways of the world and that we are a society of texters. I will conform. It may take me 20 minutes to says "lets meet at 7" via text and only 5 seconds to say it on the phone, but I will conform.
Not everyone is as flexible as I am. Some are absolutely texting averse. So averse that they do not even have text capability on their phones. While I think this is ridiculous, I understand and will respect their wishes. I just think they need to alert the rest of us that they will not be receiving or responding to any texts that we, the general texting population, send.
Why my sudden introspection on texting? Well, I recently sent a text that I expected to get a response to, but I haven't, and it is causing me some concern.
I went out on a blind date a few weeks ago. It was fine. Not spectacular, but not horrible either. He was nice, dinner was good, conversation was okay. He called me on Friday of the next weekend, but I already had plans for both Friday and Saturday. Then, he called me the next week to tell me that he was going to be busy the coming weekend, so he wouldn't be calling. I thought "strange, but considerate". Then he called me last Monday at noon to see if I could go to lunch. I was already at lunch when he called, so lunch wasn't going to work for me. All of this contact was pretty much through messages he left on my voicemail.
I didn't ever actually call him back, but after his last message, I sent him a text that said "I already have plans for lunch, but maybe we could get together some other night this week." He had been fairly persistent, so I thought he would take me up on the offer, but at this point I haven't heard back from him. Kind of strange, right?
I was discussing this with some friends, and when I said that I had texted him, they asked if he had ever texted me. No, he hasn't. All contact he has made has been purely voice communication. I have concluded that he doesn't have text, which leads me to believe that he has concluded that I am a total brat who won't call him back. Now, I don't like people to think that I am a brat, but really it is his fault. If you don't have text capabilities on your phone, first, move into the new century, and second make it a point to alert those you are in contact with. Introduce yourself to people with "Hi, my name is Rob, and I don't get text." Treat it like a support group, like "hi, my name is Nicole, and I'm a shopaholic". This solves two problems-we can adjust our communication habits accordingly, and we can help you overcome such a ridiculous problem.

Potty Talk

2009-02-02T21:03:00.000-08:00

There are strange things going on in the restroom at my job. Sounds creepy, right? Well, it is. The firm that I work for shares the floor in our building with a law firm, and an employee at the law firm is a non-hand washer. Gross. And weird. I mean, what adult doesn't wash their hands?
It gets grosser, and weirder. Occasionally, the non-hand washer come into the restroom barefoot. There aren't that many people that use the women's restroom, but still, don't walk into a public restroom barefoot. That is just a foot fungus waiting to happen.
There is a gym in our building that this lady must use because at least once a week, there is a pile of clothes in the handicap stall. She goes in there, changes into her gym clothes, and just leaves her regular clothes on the floor. So that foot fungus caused by her bare feet is slowly spreading to her work clothes.
I just don't understand the non-hand washing. The other things I can overlook, but we are taught from age zero that we always wash our hands. A couple of weeks ago, a girl I work with was in the restroom at the same time as this woman, and the woman actually turned on the water and walked out. No, she didn't wash her hands, she only turned on the water. She didn't even turn the water off. It was almost like she was turning on the water for my coworker, just to make sure she was going to wash her hands.
Can anyone think of any reason to not wash? We even have one of those automatic paper towel dispensers, so it makes it even easier to wash your hands. I cannot think of even one excuse. She is a grown woman, a lawyer, and I will never ever shake her hand.

You Are My Federer

2009-01-23T21:59:00.000-08:00

When I was in high school, Melissa was my Sampras. Pete Sampras and Andre Agassi were the top tennis players in the world, and Pete Sampras could beat anyone. Melissa and I took tennis lessons together, we went to tennis camp together, we played on the tennis team together, we played tennis together all the time. In all the time that we have been playing tennis, I have probably beat Melissa three times. Sometimes I like to say that it is my lack of competitive spirit, but we all know the truth, Melissa is just better than I am. I think it really says something about her that she continues to play with me, but I guess Sampras just kept playing with the lowly underlings. That's how he kept his ranking. Melissa wasn't out for a ranking though, she's just really nice. ( P.S.-happy birthday Melissa. Sorry I haven't called yet.)
Well, Melissa and I haven't played in quite some time (and, on the down low, I think I may be able to take her), but I have been playing with my friend Luke. Where Melissa was my Sampras, Luke is my Federer. He always beats me. Every match starts with me talking some trash about bringing my "A" game or him "going down", but it always ends with me saying "Good game, Eastman".
Tonight, things were going to be different. During warm up, I was doing really well. You know the feeling. Everything you hit is perfect-it clears the net low, it lands deep, the placement is great. I was ready. I was serving first, and I double faulted on the first point. Then, I lost the first game. I didn't give up though, and I fought back to win the first set 7-5. I have never beat Luke in a set. This was awesome!!! A Miracle!!
Set two didn't go so well. All my good tennis had been used up, and I lost 1-6. Pathetic. My spirits were down, but the third set was a little better. I won the first game, but then, even though almost all the games went to deuce or were really close, I lost the third set 2-6.
If Luke really were Federer and we were playing in Wimbledon, John McEnroe would have said that I made a great effort, but Luke is just like no tennis player we have ever seen. It really says something that I could even take one set. I should feel proud that I won even one set against the almighty Luke.
This may sound silly, but really, winning one set is enough to make me happy and keep me talking trash until the next time. In fact, next time I may just be the Nadal to Luke's Federer.

Blog Problems

2009-01-12T18:35:00.000-08:00

I know that I'm not the greatest blogger out there...I don't update that frequently, I never post pictures, and you really won't learn too much about me or my life by reading my blog. When I see things I find interesting or something happens to me that I think is funny, it frequently results in a blog post.
Recently, I have had a few funny things occur, and tonight something that was actually hilarious. Sadly, I haven't blogged about any of them. Why? Well, I am concerned about the readership of my blog. There are a few people in my life who I don't think read my blog, but because of recent events, I am now thinking they might be followers. For example, my mountain man shaved his mountain mad beard. Awesome!! I really don't think he reads my blog, but he shaved right after I blogged about how horrible I think the mountain man beard is. Coincidence? I don't know...
Because of the unknown people who may be reading this, let me just say tonight was hilarious, and I wish I could tell you all about it. Lets just say I was completely out of my comfort zone, drinking diet coke way too late at night, all while trying to avoid doing laundry. Scary.

Just because you can doesn't mean you should

2009-01-04T16:18:00.001-08:00

I went to church today, and I was surrounded by mountain men. I'm not kidding, half the guys in my ward have these hideous bushy beards covering their faces. We live in a day and age where we have heaters in our homes and cars. We buy our food at the grocery store and don't have to hunt out in the cold weather to put food on the table. There is no practical reason for the mountain man beard to be so widespread! I look at all these hairy faces around me, and it makes me wonder "what are they thinking?!! Do they not realize they look ridiculous?"
Now, you may want to call me shallow for judging all these boys based on their facial hair choices, but really I'm not. One of my best friends has a mountain man beard. I really like him. We hang out a lot and have a lot in common. I have another friend who always asks me if there is anything else going on between me and first mentioned friend, and my answer is always "no...he has a mountain man beard." I have no problem being friends with a mountain man, but I don't think I could ever see a mountain man and think "wouldn't it be great to kiss that rugged mountain man."
Again, you may think I am shallow, but really I think I am justified. I think these mountain men should realize that just because they are capable of growing a big bushy beard, doesn't mean they should. Just because I am capable of rolling out of bed and heading to work five minutes later, doesn't mean I shouldn't shower, brush my teeth, blow dry my hair, put on makeup, etc. before I leave the house. I think everyone should realize the world would be better off if the mountain men stayed in the 1800's and stop trying to make a comeback in 2009.

Doing Laundry

2008-12-09T22:47:00.001-08:00

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

2008-12-03T21:58:00.000-08:00

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

2008-11-29T21:18:00.000-08:00

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

2008-11-14T21:22:00.000-08:00

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

2008-11-03T15:44:00.000-08:00

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

2008-10-22T22:09:00.000-07:00

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!!

2008-10-20T20:34:00.000-07:00

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

2008-10-17T11:42:00.000-07:00

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

2008-10-05T19:22:00.000-07:00

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

2008-09-04T20:00:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-21T20:33:00.000-07:00

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

2008-07-24T21:53:00.000-07:00

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

2008-07-16T19:30:00.000-07:00

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

2008-07-16T18:48:00.000-07:00

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

2008-07-03T12:10:00.000-07:00

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

2008-06-17T15:12:00.000-07:00

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

2008-06-09T20:45:00.000-07:00

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

2008-06-03T21:27:00.000-07:00

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

2008-05-16T15:48:00.000-07:00

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

2008-05-13T12:22:00.000-07:00

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

2008-05-06T16:53:00.000-07:00

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

2008-05-06T16:38:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-30T20:57:00.000-07:00

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??

2008-04-27T23:13:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-25T16:35:00.000-07:00

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!!