Hilarious Happenings

Blog #50. I'm impressed.

2011-11-21T03:41:00.000-08:00

Hi, my name is Melissa and I suck at blogging. But good enough to have 50 blog posts, as informed by blogger.com today, hayy. That's way more than I thought I had, and it only took me almost 2 years to get there. Good job me on all of those posts, I'll do my best to keep up the mediocre work.

No but seriously, i'll tryyy to be better about this blogging thing, especially while i'm in Australia, for the sake of my dedicated reader(s) out there (I appreciate your support, Lisa). I'm sure I'll be glad I documented my happenings someday too. And considering everyone knows I'm a terrible emailer and I rarely update the FaceSpace, this is probably your best bet to keep an eye on whether i'm alive or if i've been eaten by poisonous bugs. (We're taking bets on the latter.)

Speaking of bug-like things. What is one of the things I hate most in the world? Spiders. What does Australia have exceptionally large versions of? Spiders. Awesome. And you find them pretty regularly! Bleh.

Did anyone know that spider watching was a spectator sport around here? Not me, until I got up one morning and had the family I stay with excitedly tell me to come look at the giant spider up in their closet. Um, no thank you, family. I'll be over here looking at everything that I hate less than spiders, which includes everything. But of course I went and looked anyway and it was totally giant and creepy looking. Sick.

The next day I was vacuuming and screamed upon coming to another larger-than-average spider. Just fyi: too big to suck up in a vacuum kind of big. Aka exceptionally too big for my liking, which is not at all. After I failed at the vacuum idea, I tried to get that massive thing out the door using the objects that were closest to me. Lets just say it was one of the worst things i've ever done in my life. I recall that I screamed at least 3 times, and I don't scream often. Traumatic.

To finish that experience off, I walked into the 4 year old's room next to see another larger-than-average (but smaller than the last) spider [cue scream. so pitiful], and figured I could probably vacuum it up. Wrong. ...because it was plastic and belongs to a 4-year-old. He thinks he's soooo funny. (...haha okay but it was kind of funny.)

I would post a picture since Lisa loves pictures, but the only thing that comes to mind is of a spider and I am soo not posting that. So instead, I will post a picture of a kangaroo, because I still haven't seen one yet and I really really want to. It's my goal to pet one before I leave Australia. It will totally happen.

Just look how cool it is!

Crush Test, Good Luck!

2011-02-15T18:23:00.000-08:00

I sent a letter home to the parents of my fourth graders last week, and at the bottom I put my email address, in case the parents wanted to contact me. Less than a half an hour after school I got an email not from a parent, but from one of my students, just saying hi, yadda yadda. She said she made sure to get my email address from the note before her mom took it.

Awesome.

I'm so glad that I'm now on her forwarding list. This forward was important, so I figured I'd share. Follow it exactly, or you'll die in 12.7 seconds. I'm not joking.

So guess what....

This is not your normal chain letter! [honest]
When this girl 1st got it she didn't believe it so she deleted it.

Then the next day her boy friend

DUMPED HER FOR NO REASON AT ALL!!! [not really. it was for excessive forwards]

So she rushed home & she restored it & sent it. [furthering the problem]
Then she & her boyfriend made-up and he's still her

Boyfriend. [i've been doing things all wrong, it seems]
Step 1. Say your Crush's name until I say stop..
*
**
***
****
*****
******
*******
********
*********
***********
*********
********
*******
******
*****
****
***
* *
*
S T OP ! ! !
Step 2. Say how much you love your crush until I say stop. [preferably out loud. in front of lots of people]

$$$$$$$$$$$

$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$
$$$$$$
$$$$$
$$$$
$$$
$$
$

$$$

$$$$

$$$$$

$$$$$$

$$$$$$$

$$$$$$$$

$$$$$$$$$

$$$$$$$$$$

$$$$$$$$$$$
S T OP !! !
Now cross your fingers.....[okay no really, this one actually works]

DA DA DA DA

DA DA DA DA
Step 3.
Do exactly as I say
Send this to 5 people
your crush will not forget you until the day you die [at which point they will forget you immediately]

Send this to 10 people
your crush will kiss you on you cheek
Send this to 15 people
your crush will kiss you on the lips [scandalous]
Send this to 20 people
your crush will ask you out
Send this to 25 people
Your crush will say 'I love you'& mean It. [when you're 9 it's for real]
Send this to 30 people
Your crush will marry you.[obviously]
Don't be stupid like she was!!!
You have 15 minutes
start sending!!!
Good Luck! !

Pretty sure I'd believe that too if I were nine. Also, thanks to me, the rest of your life is now complete. You're welcome.

Valentine's Day through the eyes of a fourth grader.

2011-02-14T22:21:00.000-08:00

I could retell the whole story for you, but I don't sleep a lot so I'm attempting to make tonight the night that I attempt to.

Let me sum up the two most important events.

I gave each kid in the class a box of those nasty Sweethearts candies. I mean, I guess some people like them. I do not. But whatever, I gave them those because they're perfect to do fun math or literacy activities with. (I also gave them edible delicious candies too, because I'm the best teacher ever).

So they were using the candy hearts to make comic strips, where they had to implement the phrases on their candy hearts into their comic strip dialogue. One of the boys was using a heart that said "text me," but for his comic, he had a box with a boy and a girl in it, and the boy with a speech bubble saying "Don't text me, hobo."

I laughed so much.

Event number two. One of the girls in my class drew me a picture with my name and lots of hearts, complete with phrases like "You rock!" etc. On the back, she taped on a child's sized plastic green bracelet and wrote under it, "This is for you since you love green. ps. Keep it forever please? But if you stop liking green I guess you can throw it away." Followed by "Green rocks just like you!! Ha ha you love green." Haha, yooou caught me. Yes, yes I do.

They're hilarious and they don't even know it. I love it.

"Think of something that makes you smile."

2011-02-07T21:42:00.000-08:00

I love the sayings on the wrappers of Dove chocolates.

I hate that I equally love what's inside of those wrappers.

Love notes.

2011-01-22T18:17:00.000-08:00

My apartment front door directly faces another apartment's front door, where a cute couple lives with their three year old daughter. She's precious.

Today, she left a post-it love note on our front door.

It says:

I laughed more than most people would probably think I should have.

Also I'm supposed to be asleep. Doing that now.

One for the road. Upon which my car likes to blow up.

2011-01-06T22:12:00.000-08:00

My luck with cars is awesome. Actually, I'm really just kind of dumb.

Rewind. Couple of days ago.

Driving back to Utah from California. Forgot how quickly my gas gauge drops from 1/4 full to empty. Realized this on a very very long stretch of no gas stations. Oops? At first I was slightly concerned. Then after more and more time passed I laughed and began thinking about what my plan was going to be once my car did run out of gas on the side of the freeway. In the middle of no where. At night. I was positive it was going to happen.

And thennn, with my constant good fortune, I somehow managed to make it to a gas station. Definitely the closest I've been to running out of gas. Well I mean, except for that one time when I ran out of gas. Anyway. I was positive my car was going to sputter to a stop when I pulled up to the pump. There was no sputtering, either.

I'm on a roll.

Get out of my car and was hit with an icy wind that I had no idea was there, having been in my heated car and all. Swiped my card, started pumping my gas, feelin' pumped about life. Looked in my car to see my bright green lanyard, just hangin' out on my front seat.

Y'know. The lanyard attached to my keys. After I made sure to lock my doors because who knows who could walk by and steal my stuff out here. In the middle of no where. At night. In the icy wind. In shorts and flip flops.

This really did happen.

Went into the gas station, smiled and said something like "Hiii..... I locked my keys in my car. ...got a car jimmy I could use...?" No good. Repeat at gas station #2. Same results, though with the suggestion of "...maybe ask if anyone around has one? Guys might have that kind of thing in their cars..."

Sounds like a good idea, right? I'm a people person, I can talk to anyone. People like me gosh darn it.

Wrong.

If you walk up to someone outside of a gas station at night in the middle of no where, do you think they think that you're just some poor stranded girl whose car broke down and needs nothing but their innocent help? No. They don't. You're approaching them because a. You want their money and/or b. You want their soul. I approached all of one person, saw his immediate, silent gesture of "Don't ask me for money and actually I'm going to walk a little bit further in the other direction because I'm kind of scared of what weapon you're about to pull on me," and decided that not only was this a futile effort, but there was no way I was going to walk around a gas station. In the middle of no where. At night. In the icy wind. In shorts and flip flops. Looking like the crazy chick who walks up to you at gas stations to steal your money/soul.

Called my parents. I'm now a proud AAA member. (Seriously, you should all invest immediately. They're fabulous.) Keys retrieved and I was on the road again shortly after.

Fast forward. Today.

Be a responsible member of society and go to school and teach small children and basically save the world. Decide to continue my adult-like efforts and go to the bank. Haha which reminds me of this fabulous picture.

Haha, had to.
hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com, to the ladies and gentleman who are unfamiliar.

Pull into the drive-thru at the bank, where my car proceeded to break down. IN the drive-thru. Get out and walk up to the drive-thru window, sans car. Cue strange looks. Probably thought I was about to rob the place.

What is it with people thinking I want to steal their money and that I carry weapons? On second thought. Why do I always end up in positions where people think I want to steal their money and that I carry weapons? Haha, weird.

So anyway, I walk up to the window, laugh a little and say something like "Haha..... my car is um. stuck in your drive thru..." I laughed a little more and said "Also I can't believe I'm standing outside of a drive thru window." She laughed. But then basically said she didn't know how to help me. So I was like "Well..... is there anyone there that can help me push my car out of the drive-thru? I mean, I can call my mechanic or someone to come get me, buuut..... my car is still in your drive-thru at the moment. So."

Thank you Wells Fargo manager for helping me jump start my car so that I could stop negatively impacting the flow of your business. I would have given you a tip if you had a nifty tip jar at your bank. Please see to it.

Hide ya kids, hide ya wife. I'll lock 'em in cars and/or embarrass them at the bank.

Time to vote.

2010-09-28T14:09:00.000-07:00

Okay. I need your votes. And by me, I mean my incredibly adorable niece Asia does. She's in THIRD place in a competition out of 1,765 babies. Help her win, and I will love you forever.

Ready for picture overload? Look at these and tell me she is not the most adorable baby ever.

(No but really, she fell asleep like that.)

I'm basically in love with her.

Vote here!

You can vote once per day (I know that you will). Competition ends October 3rd!

If she doesn't win, consider yourselves shunned.

Things that annoy others, often bring me joy.

2010-09-24T17:20:00.000-07:00

I secretly love when the strings on your sweater are a little uneven. (See hot hoodie models below.)

Good work, boys.

I also love when there's time left on the microwave. I mean, love may be a little strong, but I don't hate it like everyone else seems to. If there's time left I'm like "Oh, cool." because either a. It'll cook whatever I have and I only had to exert myself to push one button, or b. I finish that time and put more time on if I need it. No big.

What about the "I want to see the tiiiime" complaint? Wear a watch. All the cool kids are doing it (aka, really only I wear a watch, so). I have such a habit of looking at my wrist, I don't think to check the microwave.

(My watch is no where near this cool, fyi. Someone get on that, though.)

I also wear a watch because I always need to know what time it is. Strange for someone who is chronically and depressingly late, no? If I said I'd be on time and you believed me, you're the one who's a fool. And then when I am on time, people are so pleasantly surprised, whereas otherwise, it would be no big deal. See? I know what I'm doing.

Tabs. I love them. LOTS of them. We're talking, tabs for the many many many things I like to do on the internet. For example, what my Firefox browser has open at this exact moment:

That's not so bad, actually. A pretty good day for me.

...if that was all. And now, my Google Chrome browser:

I'm actually watching this video right now and it is fanTASTic. Please, listen to it immediately.
Enjoy.
You can thank me later.

(p.s. Watch this one too. Also incredible.)

I just like tabs. Everything is laid out there and open, because I usually do like 27 and a half things at once while I'm on the computer. No opening the same websites over and over, blah blah hassle. Also, I'll often start something, get distracted and start something else, etc etc etc, and soon (or a couple hours later) I'm like wait. What was I doing again? I then start closing out tabs and it'll eventually get me back to where I was hours before. (Repeat for most accurate results.)

There are a ton of other things that annoy most people but that don't annoy me, I know it. I just can't remember most of them at the moment.

Speaking of, I love having a terrible memory. You have no idea how easily that gets me off the hook for not remembering facts, details about people's lives, events that happened, etc etc etc. Also, when someone asks me if I remember when 'this and this happened and you said that and he did this' and I have no idea what they're talking about, it's better for me when they tell the story because I get to live it again as if it was the first time.

Sure, I forget some of the good things that happen, but I also usually forget the bad. It's like the "forgive and forget" thing, but with exponentially less effort.

S'all good by me.

p.s. I just bought a bag of peaches from 3 kids that came to my door. My initial instinct was to say no, like I do to almost all door salespeople (I cringe and want to die every time I do), but they were so cute! Also I'm pretty sure this peach is one of the best I've ever eaten. Win.

Dear Facebook Web Engineers,

2010-09-23T14:28:00.000-07:00

I'm sure you are painfully, painfully aware of how much whatever you just did is costing the Facebook Corporation every. single. second.

Sorry you just lost your jobs.

Okay Utah, what's the deal.

2010-09-22T21:03:00.000-07:00

I rarely wash my car. Like really... a few times a year, maybe. I don't know, I don't keep track.

Anyway. Without fail, Utah has consecutively rained within 24 hours of when I've washed my car. Every time. Basically I don't wash my car at all in the Spring, because it'll rain the next day anyway, so it's a futile effort.

So yesterday I was like Okay. It's been like a month since it's rained, it's hot, it's sunny, not a cloud in the sky and I'm kind of starting to not be able to see out of my windshield. It's time.

Wrong, stupid girl.

It hasn't rained once in the past 24 hours... not twice... but three times. Normally I would be stoked out of my mind for it to rain three times in one day. We all know I'm basically in love with it.

But today I'm convinced that Utah planned some sort of cruel plot against me so that every time I went inside, the rain would sneak attack. Not only did I not get to play in the rain, but might I remind you about my Clean Car Curse.

First time it rained today? In the wee hours of the morning. I was asleep (surprise). Car damage? Not too bad, at least there weren't any dirt spots.

Second time? At work. Oh, and cute. You brought those dirt spots that you forgot the first time around. I appreciate your dependability.

Third time? Brought dinner to Lisa and Tyson, chatted for an hour or two, and left to find that it had poured, unbeknownst to me, while I was inside.

...While I had my windows down.

I laughed (out loud. 'Lol' to you old folk), got in my car, wet butt and all, and drove home.

Love me some rain. :)

p.s. Dear Rain, please don't think that this means that I love you any less. I adore you. Come visit more often, even if it's when I've just washed my car. At this point, it's like a cute inside joke between us, right?

44 Hours and Counting.

2010-09-21T04:27:00.000-07:00

I hope you didn't see my title and think that something incredibly miraculous or exciting is supposed to happen in 44 hours. No really, you'll be seriously disappointed if you think that.

Because aaactually, I've been awake for just about 44 hours. It's a good thing my mom doesn't read this blog even though I've sent her the link like 27 times and said "Hey, read my blog." (Remember how I'm a completely spastic person with a terrible memory and no sense of direction? I thank her for these incredible attributes). Anywho. I'm glad she doesn't pay all-too close attention, because any time she finds out how late I stay up she says "Now that worries me..." as if it will be the cause of my life's downward spiral of doom as I begin the troubled life of a crack addict. Well too late for that, Mom.

Kidding. Remember how I'm completely delusional from lack of sleep? Also but really, pretty sure I could be some sort of drug lord if I really wanted to. The parents always said I could do anything I put my mind to. Not my fault they never specified.

Also I am waaaay off track here.

To everyone who isn't already aware: My name is Melissa, and I am a [insert word that holds more weight than "Night Owl," but isn't as serious as "Insomniac"].

On that note, I promise I'm not an Insomniac. Really, I'm not.

1. I can fall asleep whenever I want.
2. Interrupted? Rarely. When I sleep, you'd better believe I sleep.
3. Waking up early? Hahaha. I don't do that.
4. Light sleeper? Never in my life.
5. Chipper as ever after sleep.
= Not an insomniac. :)

On a side but completely related note, I'm a chronic Googler. I Google everything. I even text Google multiple times daily. Anyway. I was Googling synonyms for "Night Owl," trying to find a more appropriate way to label what I am to more accurately depict my situation to the masses of my blog (ps, International readers, I'm still waiting to hear back from you about all of those International positions [and presents] you were to offer me. Just an observation), and I found this:

"night owl (plural night owls)

1. (idiomatic) One who stays up late at night or goes to bed late.

He's a night owl. He would rather stay up until 6am than wake up at that time."

Um. Remember that one time, when I had work at 6 this morning, so I decided it would be easier to just stay up all night rather than risk sleeping in through work, and now that's why I'm here, still awake, 44 hours later? Seriously, if it's within 4 hours I'm like eh, alright. All-nighter it is. Bring on the cooking channel and Hyperbole and a Half. (Also, yesterday I'm pretty sure I watched like 7 hours of Iron Chef America. If you ever need to know how to incorporate peanut butter into a sea urchin dish, while making sure that it is both appealing to taste and an aesthetically pleasing presentation, hit me up. I've got some ideas.)

(So creepy.)

Anyway. So here I am, at 3:53 am. I'm honestly considering just staying up all night. For the second day in a row. I've never done that before, and I'm always looking to try new things. ...is this the wrong kind of thing that people want to try? Like, "Let me see how many times I need to be punched in the face before either a. The puncher's hand breaks or b. My face breaks?" I don't know why that's my example. But also, on the being punched in the face thing, I have honestly and truly wanted a black eye my entire life. Friends and family can vouch for this. But never have I #1. Had the courage to actually do something to myself that would intentionally give me a black eye or 2. Had a friend/ family member who has had the guts to legitimately punch me in the face. What GIVES. Man up. Also, I was told to man up twice today, by two different people. Um, hello. I am not a man. Surprise.

Anyone?

If you made it this far, why? I'm sorry you just endured that. I have no idea where I was going with what I was saying, but I'm pretty sure this blog is ridiculously long, and that it has no real plot to it (Do blogs have plots?), and I'm pretty sure I didn't actually end up finishing a single one of my thoughts.

Haha, oops. I'm not insane.

And now I have to go find some picture from either the internet or my random and obnoxious pictures to put in this blog, because I'm pretty sure I've put pictures in every single one of my posts, but only because Lisa complains about blogs that don't have pictures. Hello, we need something fun to look at. Also I'm pretty sure that's a toooon of straight text up there. So I'm going to go back and add pictures. Sorry if they have nothing to do with the paragraph, I don't feel like going back and reading them at the moment.

I'm done writing for now, at 4:03, for your sakes. I'll include an update at some point to fill you in on what time I did (or didn't) end up going to sleep. You're welcome, in advance.

4 am face. Come visit during that hour some time. It's nice, I promise. :)

Mauve.

(Update: I went to bed shortly after finishing this, because it was probably the right thing to do. Also because it felt like my arms were having an out-of-body experience, and I'm pretty sure that's not normal. Also, this afternoon when I went back to read this, I was like wtf? More delusional than I remembered. Oops. Never again.)

Time to grow.

2010-09-19T08:37:00.000-07:00

"And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."
-Anais Nin
Grow in every way possible for your best.

Working on it.

We have a special kind of relationship.

2010-09-08T19:16:00.000-07:00

Conversations via chat with my dad and me:

"Me
I mean you really aren't good at very many things...
Jay
yeah, i know
i was thinking of being a male stripper . . . what do you think?
i heard the tips are really good for hunks like me
Me
COOL Dad, I now need to gauge out my eyes.
And my brain."

"Me
Also, my roommates want to meet you guys.
Jay
:)
i can understand... everyone wants to meet me
Me
Well, mainly they want to meet Mom.
But if you have to come, I guess that's okay.
Jay
hahahaha
Me
Just try not to talk, would ya?"

"Jay
i deleted you
Me
Good. I was tired of getting your constant updates.
Jay
constant?
there's only one update for me
"is awesome again"
Me
Then I don't know who the man is who has your same name, pictures, and statistics, but he sure is obnoxious.
Jay
probably . . . my picture gets used a lot in other people's profiles, but can you blame them?
the other day i was at stater brothers and this gorgeous woman came up to me, threw her arms around me and said, "mark, it's you!"
i said, "who"
and she said, "i know you, mark, you look just like your fb picture"
Me
Oh, that was mom. She's into those role play things these days.
Frankly, I think she's insane.
Jay
hahahahahahah
oh geez, that was a good one!
i just woke vickie up..."

"Jay
so do you like my profile pic?

(Do you SEE what I mean?)
Jay
Jenni says i look like a pedophile
Me
Oh, so you're not one anymore? Did you get that legal stuff all cleared up?
Jay
i know the right people
Me
13 year olds don't count.
Jay
i know, you never counted when you were one, either
Me
I thank you for my high self esteem, pops.
Jay
you're welcome."

"Jay
well, amber, it's been nice talking to you again
Me
Haha I hate you.
Jay
hahahaha
i just woke vickie up
from laughing too loud (He does this a lot.)"

He's seriously SUCH a freak.

But how many people, when asked why they're giggling so much and who they're talking to, can respond with "Haha... my dad."

(A copy of his supposed greatest hits CD. He went around saying he was selling them for only $25.00.
...I still haven't received my copy.)

He's also kind of amazing (all my doing, I assure you).

Taught him everything he knows.

Since I know everyone was sick with worry...

2010-08-30T15:59:00.000-07:00

Got 'em. :)

Granted, I wouldn't have really cared if I lost the keys. Or the flash drive. Or the cool laser pointer that shoots a blue light at people.

Buuut. I would have missed that lanyard. Is that geeky of me? I sure hope so. You guys, I don't keep small things that I use all of the time for very long. I used to lose watches like they were made for a 'one-time only' use. Sunglasses were an even more unfortunate story. But this lanyard I have had for over 3 YEARS. We've got history.

You don't understand, I don't DO that.

Plus, I got it in Ireland. Since I've like, been there and stuff.

Precious.

Sometimes, I'm just kind of dumb.

2010-08-29T08:57:00.000-07:00

Friday: Lose your keys somewhere on campus. Seriously, you're an idiot. Your keys have a bright lime green LANYARD on them.

Who loses that kind of thing? You do. Please wait til Monday to see about getting them back. Until then: Haha for you! Good luck getting home, sucker. Your car is in the parking lot not too far from you, but it's just there to taunt.

Good thing you and the city bus are pretty tight. You can get from Point A to Point B. Usually. Sometimes. On the really good days. When your hair looks good.

Redeeming note: Luckily for you, you're a freakin' genius and have a spare key to your car AND your apartment. Look at you go, Ms. Responsible.

Saturday: You brush your hair AND have your shoes tied (but really only because you slip them on and never actually untie them, but that's beside the point). Today has already been a productive day (see above).

Fast forward: Time to go watch a movie with some of your favorite people on the planet. Granted you're still in your shiny orange basketball shorts, and those are really not to be worn in public. Change. Brush your hair again (you are seriously on a roll today). Lock yourself out of your bedroom, spare keys inside.

(On a side note, I don't actually know this man, but this is what Google images gave me. I decided to use it because 1. He has a sweet beard and we all know how I feel about beards, and 2. I read on his blog about how he locks himself out often, so basically he and I are twins. Except for the beard thing.
Is use of this picture illegal? Probably. Leaving a comment on his blog now.)
...Wait. What? Plan: ruined. Push. Turn. Pry. Credit card. Whine. All to no avail. Good thing you have friends who will feed you cookies and let you watch movies in their apartment, tall beasts of boys who can scale walls and break into two-story windows, and roommates who will eat chili and doughnuts with you afterward so that you can laugh about the whole thing and listen to stories about Belissa, Bourtney and Bristen.

Sunday: So far, so good. But it's only 9 am. You've got time.

Anyone wanna lend me their keys or other valuables? Hit me up.

I'm an international sensation.

2010-08-28T12:11:00.000-07:00

Dear people of:

Brazil
United Kingdom
South Africa
India
Spain
Egypt
Canada
Colombia

Who are you, and what interest do you have in my blog? I can see that you've been looking at it- no need to be timid. I'm flattered, though I really don't think that it deserves all of this world-wide attention. But, since you're looking, please contact your country's superiors and see about getting me some sort of high-paying international position that requires me to do little to no work, but that has incredible perks. Traveling is a must, gifts are optional (but encouraged).

I look forward to hearing from you.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

2010-08-27T13:08:00.000-07:00

Me and Michelangelo. We're tight. Balloon style.

Thank you, balloon man, for coming by and brightening my work day with your creepy vibe and sweet sweet balloon tying skills.

"See ya, peanut butter cup."

2010-08-26T21:27:00.001-07:00

(Upon telling someone goodbye and reminding them about the ice cream flavor they owed me, this was the exchange that proceeded.)

"See ya. Peanut butter cup."

"See ya tomorrow... and you can call me Ben."

Clever.

Pursuit of Happiness.

2010-08-22T12:04:00.000-07:00

I'm on the pursuit of happiness and I know
Everything that shine ain't always gonna be gold
I'll be fine once I get it
I'll be good

"I like your... baby."

2010-08-11T14:58:00.000-07:00

A few years ago, I received a compliment from some girl who's name I do not remember. She said "Hey, I like your shirt." "Oh thanks!" I said, and thought nothing else of it. She stood there, waiting. After a few seconds of awkward silence she goes, "Well don't you like anything about me?"

Uhh. Wait. What?

I feel like generally, we give compliments out of the goodness of our hearts, or because we genuinely like something, and not to receive a compliment back or to make it blatantly obvious that our self-esteem is low and we're in need of empty praise. Anyway, that's beside the point. I think I complimented her shoes, or something, and carried on my way.

I told that story to a friend today. A couple hours later he told me that my "I like your shirt..." story had just ruined his day. I asked what he meant by this, and he said "I was at the post office, and a lady said she liked my shirt. I panicked, remembered your story, felt obligated to reply and said "Thanks... I like your... baby." She just stared at me."

If that doesn't count for good deed of the day, I just don't know what does.

I'm an incredible conversationalist.

2010-08-07T15:13:00.000-07:00

Melissa:
-2 morality points.

Jim:
I'm going to have to give you -23 for starting a morality point system.

Melissa:
It'll keep things interesting.

Jim:
That it will.
+9.

Melissa:
I vote that I'm still winning.

Jim:
Oh, hate to see that. -3.

Melissa:
You're taking away points for the stupidest things.
-293479823754.

Jim:
Jim is awesome +99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999.
Clearly I'm aloud to act as a third outside party to judge myself as well.
Completely unbiased of course.

Melissa:
You can't award yourself points!!
Cheating punk.

Jim:
Woah woah, it isn't my fault if you didn't think up a loophole.

Melissa:
Melissa has the right to deny all self-awarded points, and in doing such, can also give penalty points to those who award points to themselves. Jim does not get this power, and in fact, gets no power. Ever.

Welcome to the majority of our conversations.

Cocoa Puffs

2010-08-06T10:05:00.000-07:00

I really like Cocoa Puffs, on occasion. The best part, of course, is when you eat all of the cereal, and you're left with the delicious chocolate milky goodness at the end. Well, unless you drink too much and your stomach is like, wtf dude.

Good job, Cocoa Puffs. Good. Job.

A year ago today.

2010-07-09T14:43:00.000-07:00

Jared Michael
October 16, 1984 - July 9, 2009

Love you. Miss you. Think the absolute world of you.

House. Before and After.

2010-07-08T11:26:00.000-07:00

October.

Today.

Cool, huh.

If God ate Shishkabob.

2010-07-05T18:40:00.000-07:00

"Dad, if God ate shishkabob, I'm pretty sure it would taste like this. No wait. If God MADE shishkabob, I'm pretty sure it would taste like this.

...is that blasphemous?"

"...Maaaybe a little bit."

Also, someone please come up with a theme song for this. Pronto.

Make "Team Lift!" sound like the most kick-a crime fighting team ever.

Thanks.

...I think my family forgets how weird I am. But then again, my mom and I were just talking about "spidey senses," so really, they shouldn't be surprised. I was genetically predisposed to be this way.

Happy.

2010-07-02T16:09:00.000-07:00

"You and Melissa are very different. Melissa has one emotion... Happy."

I can live with this.

My kid is going to be cooler than your kid.

2010-06-29T12:12:00.000-07:00

"Melissa, I think if you had a kid, he would be just like this."

Eatin' sand and takin' names.
If when I have a kid he's even HALF this cool, I'm pretty sure I've succeeded in life. No questions asked.

Quotes from my boss.

2010-06-23T12:20:00.000-07:00

Coworker: "Where's Djibouti?"
Phil: "It's on tha back-a yo' chair!"

"Melissa, can I lick your bowl?"
(In reference to the dishing bowl in which there had been a dessert.)

Me: "...so we're searching for 'business women attire.'"
Phil: "Uhh... careful when you search 'business women.'"
Me: "Why?"
Phil: "...Business women is another name for a HOOKER."
Me: "Well, I haven't seen any hookers, but I have seen (as I pointed to a picture of a farmer standing next to a pile of watermelons,) some large watermelons!"
Phil: "...that's exactly what we're trying to avoid!"

On another note, the counselors in my office have figured out that if they push my computer monitor all the way down, that it latches and I have to move everything and use all my strength to unlatch it and put it back to normal.
...and they think it's hilarious.

Silly counselors. You know I don't go down without a fight.

This. Means. War.

Remember that one time, when I sucked at this?

2010-06-20T17:18:00.000-07:00

Yeah. Me too. That nonsense is stopping immediately.

Also, remember when these pictures were the coolest things to have as a middle schooler desperate for social acceptance? You'd see them on t-shirts and backpacks and school supplies, and you most likely bought some of them as stickers from those cool quarter machines at the grocery store. But then you'd be pissed when your sticker said something dumb because hello, you wanted the hot pink one that said "cute but psycho" since it was the coolest one to have. But no, Dad won't give you another quarter. Thanks Dad, I'm gonna be shunned at school tomorrow... yet again.

It's okay, you'll still have one friend. Y'know, the one you're going to give your crappy sticker to, in an effort to make them think that you thought of them when you went and spent your (Dad's) last quarter on a lame sticker.

They'll say thanks and act like they appreciate it, but they did the same thing to you last week. Gotta love friendship as a 13 year old.

I Left My Heart in Fourth Grade.

2010-03-29T13:55:00.000-07:00

I have so much to write. SO much. But I have no time at the moment. Just wanted to share a quick story.

I'm in love with teaching Fourth Grade. In LOVE with it. Tomorrow is the last day, and I'm almost in tears thinking about it.

Tomorrow my teaching partner and I are going to be receiving notes from our class that they wrote to us to say thank you and goodbye and whatnot. One student in particular couldn't wait until tomorrow to give me his note.

About this student: Long story short, we were informed that principals, teachers, etc. were aware of the behavior of this student. My mentor teacher informed us that she couldn't get this child to do a single thing. He was misbehaved and a bully. So, we tried the "teacher tricks" that we're taught in our classes to try to get him to behave as he should-- proximity, positive reinforcement of him and his peers, etc. After a couple of days, I was giving him another compliment and he said "Look. I know what you're doing. I know how adults work. I know that you come stand by me when you want me doing my work. I know that you compliment others when you want me to be doing that same thing. I know that you compliment me when you want me to feel good about myself. I know your teacher tricks. I know how you adults work. It's NOT going to work on me." I sat there, speechless. WHAT do you even say to that??

The next day, we revamped our strategy. He wanted to be treated as an equal, not talked down to. He could tell when we genuinely cared about him, and when we were giving him empty reinforcement. He wanted to be truly loved. So, that's what we did. Over the next couple of weeks, we could not BELIEVE the changes he was making. He was quiet. He was on task. He was nice to us and wasn't causing problems with others. My mentor teacher could NOT believe how much different he was. It was incredible.

He gave me his card today. It was in the shape of a paper airplane, per usual of this student. On the front, it had things like "Your Awesome!" and "You ROCK!" Inside, he had drawn a picture of me, smiling. A spitting image, I must say. It then said Dear Miss D, Thanks for teaching us this year. Especially playing football with us. I hope you come here to teach sense your awesome. Oh ya, and your WAY the nicest and funniest teacher ever. Your the best and Number 1 teacher out of all the teachers that have ever come into my life."

...

Seriously, I'm not even an emotional person, but I can't believe how much that little note touched my heart so deeply. This child, who hated school, hated learning and hated teachers, but who is an INCREDIBLY bright and sweet little boy, had had a change of heart.

I know I'm doing the right thing with my life.

Green Beans.

2010-03-07T21:10:00.000-08:00

Scenario: I'm sitting at the table for dinner, eating a bowl of canned green beans. And nothing else. My roommate walks in.

Her: Oh my GOSH! Do you need some food?? I have some food if you need some!

Me: Uh, I have plenty of food... but thanks though!

Her: Then, why are you eating just a can of green beans for dinner??

Me: Oh, haha, I just really really like green beans.

Growing up, we never really ate canned green beans. It wasn't until this past year that I really tried canned green beans on my own, and oh. my. gosh. Whodathunk they'd be so dang delicious!!! I mean really, who craves green beans? I do, that's who.

Kids and marriage.

2010-02-24T10:29:00.000-08:00

How do you decide who to marry?

You got to find somebody who likes the same stuff. Like, if you like sports, she should like it that you like sports, and she should keep the chips and dip coming.
-- Alan, age 10

No person really decides before they grow up who they're going to marry. God decides it all way before, and you get to find out later who you're stuck with.
-- Kirsten, age 10

What is the right age to get married?

Twenty-three is the best age because you know the person FOREVER by then.
-- Camille, age 10

No age is good to get married at. You got to be a fool to get married.
-- Freddie, age 6 (very wise for his age)

How can a stranger tell if two people are married?

You might have to guess, based on whether they seem to be yelling at the same kids.
-- Derrick, age 8

What do you think your mom and dad have in common?

Both don't want any more kids.
-- Lori, age 8

What do most people do on a date?

Dates are for having fun, and people should use them to get to know each other. Even boys have something to say if you listen long enough.
-- Lynnette, age 8 (isn't she a treasure)

On the first date, they just tell each other lies and that usually gets them interested enough to go for a second date.
-- Martin, age 10

What would you do on a first date that was turning sour?

I'd run home and play dead. The next day I would call all the newspapers and make sure they wrote about me in all the dead columns.
-- Craig, age 9

When is it okay to kiss someone?

When they're rich.
-- Pam, age 7

The law says you have to be eighteen, so I wouldn't want to mess with that.
-- Curt, age 7!

The rule goes like this: If you kiss someone, then you should marry them and have kids with them. It's the right thing to do.
-- Howard, age 8

Is it better to be single or married?

It's better for girls to be single but not for boys. Boys need someone to clean up after them.
-- Anita, age 9 (bless you child)

How would the world be different if people didn't get married?

There sure would be a lot of kids to explain, wouldn't there?
-- Kelvin, age 8

How would you make a marriage work?

Tell your wife that she looks pretty, even if she looks like a truck.
-- Ricky, age 10

I concur.

Third World Country Children Cry When You Don't Wash Your Hands.

2010-02-18T07:26:00.000-08:00

I try to be a pretty understanding person. I'll even go as far as to say that I'm empathetic and have the ability to put myself in someone else's shoes.

But I'm telling you right now that if you don't wash your hands after using the restroom, I will be going no where near your shoes.

Girl checking yourself out in the mirror, if you're in a public restroom, at least pretend you're washing your hands to give me some peace of mind. And to make yourself not look completely disgusting as you run your grimy hands through that pretty hair of yours.

It's sanitary. It's socially acceptable. Embrace it.

Homeless Friends.

2010-02-13T15:31:00.001-08:00

My family has this homeless friend, and his name is Jhon (Not to be confused with John... it's Jay-hawn. Naturally). Jhon would come over to my house on most Sunday mornings, and we would make him breakfast (usually eggs, salsa and toast) and my dad would shave him, except for on his neck during the winter, as it helped to keep him warm. I wish I had the time to write down all of the hilarious things about this man. Let me give you a quick sum up.

He's in his 50's, though we're not sure of his exact age. I think. He is mostly deaf and mute, though he has this way of whispering that sounds like talking, and he can hear you better if you speak directly into his ear or if he can feel the vibrations in your throat with his hand. He loves attention. If he's holding a glass plate, he'll more often than not ask what would happen if he were to drop the plate on the floor, and somewhat eggs us on, saying "eh? eh?" as he holds it above the floor. If there is a knife in his presence, he will sometimes take it, and hold it up to his chest, and smile as he asks us what would happen if he pushed it into him, and if he should do it. At first we would, naturally, freak out and say "NO JHON NO... you do NOT want to do that." But, after the first hundred times, we learned to say "Oh yeah! Do it! Go on..." At which point he would laugh his Jhon, mute-like laugh and shrug it off.

He only eats with spoons, never forks, no matter what he's eating. He writes down everything that he eats in a notebook, and he won't eat anything that has over 10 grams of sugar in it, as he says it will give him a headache. He does not take into account serving size, but so long as the box says 10 grams or less, it's a-okay. He cannot see objects that are bright colors, like bright yellow or orange. He always remembers our birthdays, and even brings us presents such as left shoes, cacti, or red ballpoint pens. When he comes over, he asks, without fail, to at least one person: "Are you surprised to see me??" Complete with an ecstatic grin.

Growing up, I probably saw Jhon at least once every week, from the time I was what... 8 years old? Around that, I'd say. Today is the first time that I've seen Jhon in probably 3 years. Ish. Since I moved away from home. I was walking out of the house, as he was about to ring the doorbell and knock. Even though I had opened the door, which he could obviously see, he did his signature ring and knock, announcing his arrival: 3 doorbell rings, with a sufficient pause between each, and 3 door knocks, also with pauses.

Him: Is Dad Gunther here?
Me: Hmm... who? (He was referring to my dad.)
Him: Dad Gunther... Or... Mom Gunther...?
Me: Nope... I think you have the wrong house. (And I began to shut the door.)
Him: Is this (insert address here)?
Me: Nope.

I then shut the door in his face. Buuut... opened it a second later, laughing. He laughed, and proceeded to come inside, with my help, as he has a hard time getting over steps on his own. This is basically how our conversation went from that point on:

Him: The door got smaller (he was confused why there was less space than usual, though it was due to a bike being in front of part of the door)!
Me: Nope, I think you got bigger (patting his stomach)!
Him: *laughing his Jhon laugh* Are you surprised to see me??
Me: I am! Are you surprised to see ME?
Him: Yep! Are you Marizata?
Me: Nope. Melissa.
Him: Melissata? The one from Illinois?
Me: Nope. Utah...

He always confuses us. And asks us which sibling we are, based on first and middle initial. "Are you A period D period?" "Nope..." "Are you C period M period?" "Nope..." Until we either told him which of my siblings we were or until he guessed.

Jhon is truly an incredible person. Several families have offered him a place to live and a roof for over his head. His response? "Why would I want to live in your small house, when all the world is my home?" He does not drink, he does not do drugs, and he was actually baptized as a member of the church several years ago, and comes to church is his torn jeans, mismatched shoes and often causing a bit of a stir upon arrival. We love him all the more because of it. How great is that, that he has nothing, and is simply content with the clothes on his back and the notebook in his hands.

How humbling.

(Jhon saying "Hi" in his own version of sign language, which my family is quite fluent in. He insisted that we take this picture 3 times until his hand was in it.)

It was after this point that he announced to me that he has yet to have his bath this month. Mkay, no more arm around my neck...

She's HOME!

2010-02-10T19:09:00.000-08:00

...and I'm just a wee bit excited about that!

Don't Forget Your Lunch.

2010-02-09T20:18:00.000-08:00

My roommates know me so. well. First, let me just say that I absolutely ADORE them. Seriously, I'm like... borderline obsessed, you could say. (For example, it hit me like a ton o' bricks that I hadn't added Kristen to my stalker list yet. Do not fear, I stalked her until I found her blog again and added it. Go ahead, check the list. That's right. She's there. I'm a scary good creeper. Ahem. Roommate. Scary good roommate. Anyway.) Yesterday I was wicked tired, and fell asleep as 2 of my adorable roommates were making 3 adorable lunches for us tomorrow.

This morning, this is what I woke up to:

My bathroom mirror:

My door:

The kitchen counter:

The front door:

Lessons learned from this:

#1. I have the best roommates ever.

#2. I might be a wee bit forgetful. Emphasis on wee. Sometimes, I just don't think about things. Okay, often I don't think about a LOT of things. It's all part of my natural charm.

#3. "The one with the 'M' on it." Courtney is stilled scarred from the day I took the one with a 'C' on it. We've since then taken all necessary precautions to avoid another catastrophe like unto the last.

#4. I like... lunch? Actually I didn't have a number four. I just didn't want to be done with this list thing. It's kind of exciting.

Life is totally good. Mess that up, and I will cut you. That is all.

One word: Indian Food.

2010-02-05T17:08:00.000-08:00

Confession. I like to cook. Okay, I said it.

Growing up, this was never a thing I liked to do. My mom tried so. hard. to get me to help her cook things, so that I might be exposed to the art and perhaps come to enjoy it myself. It was never happening, and I was completely turned off from the idea. She can vouch for this, especially since she now reads this blog nonsense (Hi Mom! School is good. Yes I'm being a good girl. Thanks for sending me that stuff I left at home. Again. Like I always do. Love you!). Anyway, yeah, I like it now. I tried to fight it, but it happened. Against my will, I assure you.

So, today we celebrated my boss' birthday at work. He happens to love Indian food. I happen to make Indian food. Fancy that. For approximately an hour yesterday, I was elbow deep in raw chicken (Yeah, be jealous). At which point it marinated. Followed by being cooked.

Presenting Chicken Tikka Masala:

Forgot to get a picture of it with the rice. My bad. These pictures are all also taken on my phone. Thus, the awesome awesome photo quality. Again, your jealousy is radiating.

On another note, Gilmore Girls makes me laugh. That is all.

Let's just. Take a moment.

2010-02-04T21:59:00.000-08:00

Well hello, Matthew Fox.

Oh, you want another? If you insist.

Ooookay ONE more.

We're practically dating. Almost. I mean, I haven't exactly met the dude. And well, he may or may not be over twice my age. And married. With two children.

...All minor details.

Gingerbread.

2010-02-03T19:39:00.000-08:00

Some people make gingerbread men. Others, make gingerbread houses. I, on the other hand, make gingerbread temples. Co-constructed with my dear friend Bri.

And by gingerbread, I mean graham crackers. With frosting. Complete with gummy bear Moroni, naturally.

Explosive Laughter.

2010-01-29T13:41:00.000-08:00

So. I have this problem. Sometimes, something really really really funny happens. Okay, maybe it's not all THAT funny... I just kind of find almost anything and everything hilarious. I tend to laugh at completely inappropriate times. Several of you can attest to this. Please, share your stories. I promise I'm not making this up. Anyway. Sometimes when I laugh, it's a normal, healthy, non-attention grabbing laugh. How precious. Other times though... "non-attention grabbing" is an understatement. Other times, it's a good sign when people DON'T jump a little from being startled. It's like... a loud, obnoxious, "where the heck did that loud and ill-mannered elephant come from" kind of laugh.

I blame my aunt.

My Aunt Connie, bless her mac-n-cheese makin' heart, has this same explosive laughter. And she laughs this way every. time. So now, I'm scared out of my mind that as time goes on, I will inherently develop this constant "explosive laughter." I warn you. If this happens, hide your sleeping babies. And hearing aids.

This same aunt loves to get creative with her Christmas present giving. Last year, I opened up a spool of thick Christmas ribbon from her. "Cooool!!" I said, of course, and began putting it back in the box. "Aren't you even going to look at it??" "Uhh... k?" And lo and behold, as I unraveled the ribbon, what was actually hiding was several dollar bills, taped together in a long string. Who even thinks of that?? She does. That's who. So this year, this was her creative money present:

Why yes. That is a money necklace. And of course it's hanging on my wall. How cool is that?? At the moment, my plans are to leave the money attached. Indefinitely. However, considering I'm strapped for cash, we'll see how long that lasts. I've already removed two $5 bills. They weren't all cool and pinwheely, so I felt that the action was justified.

Shoe update.

These are the shoes I wore today:

No holes in the bottom yet. Woo! However, it won't be long before my foot falls out the side (as demonstrated above). Buuut... my FAVORITE part of these shoes??

I know. You're jealous. How does that even happen? Beats me. And yet I love em all the more.

Now. Time for a nap. And by nap I mean homework. Yeah.

Snapshots and Shoes.

2010-01-28T22:28:00.000-08:00

Okay. I know I have previously mentioned that I love my job. But just look at these girls. How could I NOT love it?

I also discovered that I love Photo Booths. But only when they're free. Okay, okay, I love them when they're not free also. Other things I love that are not free: BYU Chocolate Milk. Riding the city bus. Shoes.

Speaking of shoes. I know. My shoes are a big deal to some people. I don't even understand it. Well. Okay. I do. Let me 'splain.

I have several pairs of shoes. Chucks, in particular. Most of them are from high school. Most of them are worn. Very very worn. And yet, I still wear them. Often. And in the snow. So that my socks get wet. I mean, I don't do it with the intent to get my socks wet, this is simply something that happens through association.

Exhibit A:

Oh, you want a side view too? If you insist.

For the past few months or so I have also been buying shoes from Wal-Mart. Just simple, dinky, thin little $10 shoes. What. I'm poor. And when those break/rip/etc, I just go and buy a new pair. For $10! You can't beat that! These shoes are also not snow appropriate and I often make ridiculous squishing noises as I walk to class early in the morning.

Oh. Hi. I'm from California. I don't know how to dress for the snow. I wear capris and short sleeves and I'm like "What."

Grade School

2010-01-26T09:23:00.000-08:00

This is what happened when I got to work yesterday:

Julie: You smell SO good! It's like GRADE SCHOOL all over again!
Me: Uh... thanks...? [Um. Not so certain this is a compliment.] ...OH! It's because I was in an elementary school all this morning.
Julie: Haha really?
Me: No. It's actually my new perfume. It's called "10-Year-Old Boy."

I love my job. Uh, and not pedophilia.