Wednesday, March 30, 2011

This kid made my whole day.

hardcore child. that is all.

If professors were flowers, I'd pick him.

today, we had a substitute in my math class. (I didn't know you got substitutes in college.) Normally, I prefer it when they just cancel class, but this sub was fabulous, and if I manage to pass 1010 I am taking stats from him next year, for the following reasons.

1. He was wearing converse. All professors should wear converse as an antidote to taking themselves too seriously. Seriously.
2. He did a "dance" and also taught us the "math stance". " See, when it gets difficult, you stand like this!"
3. He used Happy Gilmore references.
4. He used Happy Gilmore references while informing us that it was our job to make sure he didn't screw up.
5. He used phrases like, " And it's an equation, see, so you can get away with crap like that."
6. He did half the lecture using homework problems. Easiest assignment I've ever done.
7. Last but certainly not least, he called the radical in the denominator  "that little bastard."

That's how I've always felt.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Oh, the egocentricity of it all!

I realized today what a very large amount of ego it takes to write this crap on the internet and assume anyone would care. So world, if you don't care, I understand. And if you do, well, thanks.
That's all.
Goodnight, Neverland.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Tonight at Family Dinner

for which dazzling event Katie and I went all out and made Better than Sex cake:

Sarah: So Shane, how was the cake?
Shane (the only one there who hasn't previously partaken of the blessing that is this cake): responds using weird baseball gestures. (no one knows. no one knows.)
Katie: We don't know baseball language, Shane. Spencer, translate.
Spencer: Do it again. Okay. That means I am stealing second base. What?
Amy: (highly innappropriate): So does that mean that it was only as good as second base?
Shane: I swear, for Mormon girls, Marriage is second base.
Amy: How would you know, VL?
Spencer: Oh wow. well.
Sarah: Seriously. You've never even kissed anyone!
Spencer: That's sketch.

Classic Dinner. I promise, in reality we are chaste and virtuous people who, here in this college town with no parental supervision, actually cook and have family dinner of a friday night. Really.

Friday, March 25, 2011


If I was at Brighton, I would lock myself in the walk in and scream.
If I was at home, I would go back to school, lock myself in the prop rooms and scream.
If I was alone, I would stand in the middle of the room and scream.
If I had to be quiet, I would get on the internet and yell ANGST!

So there you have it. Internet yelling, complete with caps lock. I choose to be calm and do biology assignment now. Thanks for listening, internet.

(And I didn't even swear! Not even in my head! Snap!)

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Call Ralph Machio. He's been replaced.

Here we are, sitting at the kitchen table. Shane turns on You're the Best Around. You know, the classic fight song from Karate Kid that I love. So I'm singing it, cause that's what I do. Sarah takes my hand, looks me in the eyes, and says five momentous words:

"Amy, this is your song."

My life is complete. I am the best around. Nothing's gonna ever keep me down.
Take that Alex. I have a theme song, and it has nothing to do with South Park. AKA your evil agenda has been defeated and is running away with it's tail between it's legs.

I am convinced that Heavenly Father is involved in the shuffle on my ipod, the radio stations, and pandora.

Don't Argue. You won't win.

Because last week when I was on my way to that job interview and I was terrified I would be late, and I was praying hard, Breakeven came on the radio. And then when I was on my way home and feeling that slump after the adrenaline rush flops, it came on again. What a nice way to bookend the stress!

Also, I just turned on Pandora and Hey Ya came on for the fourth time today. Can that be anything but divine intervention? Not really.

And then! Last night when I was writing a letter to Nate, and If we ever meet again came on. which is technically McCall's Nate song, but I was still excited. And then Life After You came on right after that, and that actually is my Nate song, so then I was excited times six.

Evidence that God loves me and wants me to be happy.

If you are trying to be like Jesus, don't read this.

Is it bad that I get really annoyed when a blog that is named Witty Banter is actually a blog wherein the virtues of your perfect fiance who is 'just the one' are extolled ad nauseum? If you are gonna name something witty banter! Sheesh.Why didn't you just call it "Look at me my fiance is hot!"? Way to crush people's anticipation!

Also, my cousin Amy is getting married. Woot! This means that I went wedding dress shopping. and maybe looked at two or seven websites with wedding dresses. And while she is beautiful and wears dresses with actual fabric on top, I feel really weird about the things people wear to their weddings sometimes. I understand if you are a skank in real life, but do you really want to flaunt that on your wedding day? Halter tops are for beaches, not weddings. Especially if you are one of those people who shouldn't wear halter tops. Or spaghetti straps. Or strapless. And, for heaven's sake, take a look and ask yourself, "Am I a person who can pull off a dropped waist? Do I really want that immortalized and hung in picture frames for everyone to see?" When Rose was engaged and we were dress shopping, we watched lots of other people trying on dresses. After one of these encounters, one of my sisters, in a moment of uncharacteristic snarkyness, said, "Really! There is a point when the dress is wearing you!" In a moment of, well, characteristic snarkyness, I would like to support that position. Thank goodness Amy has class.

One last venting session. I'm so done with snow. Seriously, weather? You are cold, and you are wet, and you are ugly! And I am wearing a boot which means that you got frozen crap all over my exposed toes today while I was rushing across the quad to Old Main! And it is the SECOND freaking day of spring! I rest my case, and you are banished from my life.

This is the part where I go to the gym and work off all this angst.
Call me a snark. You'll be right, and I will probably argue with you anyway.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Raindrops on Roses...

....are beautiful in real life but less appealing when the Rose is not so much an actual flower as my super depressed worried stressedaboutschool sister. As she lives in Provo (which could be part of the problem. half-kidding, roser!) and I live in Logan, there is not a whole lot I can do to ease her homework load or her raindrops except tell the world all the greatest things about her. So Rose. Here is your very own blog post, cause I can do that from a hundred miles away even if I can't hug you.

And here is where we play a round of:


Rose has many good qualities and quirks, including, but not limited to:

1. She is beautiful in many ways. She has flowing brown hair, long black eyelashes, and sapphire eyes.  But my favorite thing is that she is beautiful musically. Girl has some pipes on her! She also plays the violin sometimes, and not only is she really good at vibrato, her wrists look pretty when she does it.

2.She is kind and sweet and understanding and forgives me for being the brat little sister she shared a room with for ten years. She serves everyone, specifically stray animals. They seem to flock to her for comfort and petting and to be returned to a worried owner. I can't count the number of times Rose found a random dog and helped the poor creature avoid a gruesome death on 5400 S. She has recently expanded the venture to include felines, and is currently working to find a home for a lost pregnant cat. It's a gift she has.

3. She taught me to rollerblade when we were little. The effort to keep me alive was of Herculean proportions. She got really good at bandaids and kissing bruised knees better.

4. Rose is a masochistic studyer. Which is why she  was a junior in college before she got less than an A and why she will not lose her scholarship no matter how bleak it looks today in the face of that test rearing its ugly head. (are you reading carefully, dear?)

5. Rose is a Geology Major. Which means that she gets really excited about rocks. And fault lines. And sedentary formation. And the layers in the cliffs. And clouds, cause she used to be an Earth and Space Science Education Major. When we went to Virginia beach and played on whatever kind of coast that was, she was positively giddy. Not that we were on a beach, but that she was analysing, "a whole different kind of formation than anything on the west coast!" While I complain a fair bit about her need to explain all these details from millions of years ago, I also think it is a little... I don't know.... cute? endearing? that's the word.

So let us all celebrate Rose's accomplishments on a day when school is sucking her life out. Don't worry honey. It happens to all of us. And you are awesome. Not just almost.

I had this goal for life.

It was called, get through life without using crutches and/or a broken foot boot.

Apparently, life had other plans. And when I say life, I mean the stairs in my apartment building. So there I am, laying in the hallway in a pile of math homework trying not to cry. But lots of nice people came to the rescue, aka Shane carried me to my apartment cause I couldn't walk and Tracie spent half an hour putting her foot brace on me and icing my ankle and Tori got me painkillers and Jasmine kept me supplied with fresh ice packs and Morgan didn't kill me when I knocked my water out of its cup and onto her computer/homework.

So here's where I wear a boot and look ridiculous, which isn't exactly fair since my foot isn't technically fractured. Turns out damaging the tendons in your foot and ankle qualifies you for a broken foot boot anyway.   But there is an upside! It is big enough that my swollen bruised ankle fits inside a whole lot easier than inside my normal shoes. So it's fine. Life is good.  And the guy who fitted me for the boot told me that I don't have to use crutches even though the doctor told me I should. Bullet one/ boot: hit me right in the foot. Bullet two/crutches: successfully dodged. Score.

Take that, stairs!

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Don't judge. It was late. And yet, I feel empowered.

I went to this concert tonight with my dad and it was fabulous. Broadway/Kelly Dehaan/wow. So anyway, it was great and then I was thinking about musicals and then I thought about musicals that I have been in and that made me think of high school and on and on until we arrive at the point where I thought of one solitary moment in time that makes me grin here and now, almost four years later.

Memory. Go.
My sophomore year in High School we did Once Upon a Mattress. And in the culture of what we call "Musical Season" at Taylorsville, after every company meeting and before every curtain call we would have a cast prayer. unnofficial, of course. Cause  we are in school. But everyone participated. Cause we are in school in Utah. So one time my friend Bryce was saying the prayer, and it went something like this:
" Heavenly Father, please help us to do our best, and kick this show's trash. Amen."

(Something like that. Slightly irreverent, but I maintain my belief that God has a keen sense of humor, and our hearts were in the right place. So I choose to feel okay about it.)

That phrase. Kicking Trash. Where did it come from, I wonder? What does it mean? Every teenage knows, but it is hard to explain.I tried once. To my mother. But explaining generational phrases to my mother is a whole new blog. I think I will attempt to define said phrase. (with my kick-trash english skills. yep.)

To Kick Trash:
The establishment of superiority and/or well recognized triumph of a noun over another (beaten to the ground in humiliation) noun. To do a good job of, or thoroughly beat the crap out of some endeavor. To dominate.

I came to a conclusion today. There are some situations in which I kick trash. In others, well, I am the (beaten to the ground in humiliation) noun. Following this conclusion, I came to a decision. Life will stop kicking my trash. Because I am the trash kicker in this relationship, dang it. My life has no business kicking my trash, because it's mine! HA!

So now the question is, how do I go about the trash kicking? Anecdotal Sidenote:  When I was little, my brother Alex would wear steel toed boots and sometimes, like the brat I was(am. ahem) I would try to kick him or stomp on his toes and end up just hurting myself. When I was sixteen, and once again in a musical, I tripped and landed with all my weight on the heel of my character shoe.....on my friend's foot. There was some bone breaking involved. And while I felt horrible, and the bruised swelling horror that I inflicted still sometimes shows up in my nightmares, this experience served a purpose in that I realized that I had a shoe weapon Alex doesn't have. High heels. Those babies are dangerous. And since I realized that, I don't worry as much walking alone at night when I am wearing my Steve Madden heels because those four inch stilletos are made of steel and they are potentially hazardous. I feel.....powerful. (insert evil laugh here?)

Analogy alluding to the Anecdotal Sidenote:
Alex's steel toed boots= My status as the trash kickee
Steve Madden Heels= My status as the trash kicker

So now I just have to make sure that my attitude in life matches the Stilletos.
Math tests, College decision making, to do lists, Dang Job, I am wearing my killer heels and your trash is about to be kicked.

(There's feminism for ya!)

Thursday, March 10, 2011

And suddenly, I am as happy as I would be if the oceans were transformed to diet coke.

I had this realization today. People read this thing. Not just my family.Someone else cares!Various individuals spanning two hemispheres. Which doesn't sound that impressive. but the world's a big place, right? Two is good. All I was going for was multiple hemispheres, and two is multiple just as much as four. So there.

Could life be any better? ( No Chandler. Not really.)

(On that note, everyone should watch Friends when you don't want to excercise. Your abs will still get a workout, gauranteed.Could it be any funnier?)

So here's to you, random readers of Denmark, France, Malaysia, and Russia! I blow kisses to you all and if I knew who you were I would send thank you notes or something. As it is, I don't so here is your generic shout out. Enjoy, and thank you for, in some small measure, validating my existence.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

So Far, So Good.

Park/ horses/ telling Matthew two or maybe six times,
"Don't put your face close to Stilts' mouth! Remember how I told you that he bites?"Check.

Do math homework with Ben for a couple hours. Realize that the Twenty fifth Anniversary concert of Les Miserables is on TV Downstairs. Go watch the end, while Ben works on problem thirty eight. "Ben, what are you doing?" " Milla's homework." Whoops. Check.

Reading the Emily books, listen to Erin recount the story of when I ruined all her Emily books as a child. Apologize again even though she got over it a long time ago. Check.

Sleepover with Matthew. Sleepover with Libby. " Come on Aunty! You wanna play with me?" " Little, it is way past wake up time!" Getting slimed by Emma. (she doesn't talk, but she smiled about it.) Check.

Siblings. Party Time. Check.

Vacuum. Give the dog a bath. Get soaking wet and soapy, and hairy. Decide that I shouldn't try to bathe the dog without Rose, ever. Check.

Buy Hair dye, replace the old Flip Flops that Leatherby's broke with their sticky gross floor. Wander around WalMart for a decade with Erin and the girlies. "Libby, take the nail polish out of your mouth!" check.

Sitting on the counter. Check. Still waiting for the opportune moment to take a nap on it. Mom spends a lot of time at home, dang it. 

Go see the Region Previews at good old Taylorsville. Lay on the chaise lounge I built with Spencer. (I built a couch in High School. How cool is that? Okay, Egocentricness done.) Get my ear drum blown out because Sam and I have this thing where we yell instead of speak like normal humans and I was hugging him at the time. Laugh my guts out at Heather, who is still the funniest person I know. Check.

Watch The Joy of Painting with Emma. Get really excited because he tells me he is going to paint in a lot of happy little trees and some happy little foxes and a happy little cottage. Check.

I'm a geek. Check.

Friday, March 4, 2011

Because I have morals...

.... the next week of my life will be spent with my family as opposed to whatever it is the majority of the collegiate community outside utah does on Spring break.  Also because Bishop Dunclay aka Bishop Superman sent out this letter with the monthly Ensigns to all our apartments which included the following:

(paraphrased, because of course I can't find the thing in our five hormonal girl messy apartment, even though I was dorky enough to actually get up and look for it)Something along the lines of:

Much hard work and progress of the past months can be undone in a moment of foolish indulgence over Spring Break. Continue to be dilligent and righteous.

Wow, foolish indulgence. The word sin may have been included, too. Way to go, Bishop Superman! Way to call out the classic image of Spring break and tell us not to go have sex and do drugs. I really like the straight-upness. (I learned that word from Daniel, who was imparting wisdom on the subject of boys, and how they appreciate straight-upness. Katie would say "boys are stupid so you have to tell them what you are talking abouut or they won't get it. Ha. Such biased gender roles.)

Anyway. President Dunclay.Because he said so, and I think the man is brilliant. All I can say is that it is a brave soul indeed who can take care of 200 college students with as much wisdom as he does. Superman. I wasn't planning on any of those ..ahem.. extracurricular activities. But now I feel the pressure to do something really good and productive over Spring Break. So I came up with a list of goal activites,which may or may not live up to the standard of good and productive but are certainly far better than said extracurricular activities.

1. Sleepovers with Matthew and/or Libby

2. Waiting around for an announcement involving shiny rocks.

3. Job Hunting. Get Ready, economy!

4. Sitting on the Kitchen Counter. A Lot.

5. Taking walks to the Park where I lived this summer. Feeding the horses.

6. Reading all the Emily books. close to scripture in my book.

7. Playing with Emma and getting thrown up all over. such Joy! Seriously. Not joking.

8. Picking dad up from the airport just like the good old days.

9. buying new flip flops. I still haven't gotten around to sueing Leatherby's for breaking my last pair with their gross, sticky, floor.

10. Speaking of Leatherby's, cheese fries, anyone?

11. Vacuuming the floor/dog at least three times.

12. give the dog a bath. maybe that will cut down the vacuuming.

13. watching tv with mom and dad in the middle of the night. Perry Mason. Here I come.

14. Waking dad up and sending him to bed at three in the morning.

15. Temple. Cause in Salt Lake you don't have to make up an appointment and they don't tell you no.

16. Watching She's the Man with Jared. Reminiscing over memory lane.

17. Siblings. Party time.

The only question is, would Bishop Dunclay Approve? I'll do my best to avoid the foolish indulgence,yes I will. Although dancing around the kitchen singing songs by the White Tie Affair isn't particularly productive. But it's one of those things that makes life worth living,you know?

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Yes, you should care.

The background on my computer is Calvin and Hobbes. And I pick a different face to represent my emotion not every day, but every twenty nine seconds.

I went to school in sweats today. but I did shower. Weird.

I have taken a nap eighty percent of all the days in the last two weeks. Cause I have no life. Also, Sarah told me I look like an angel when I sleep, so there's not much motivation for me to be awake, is there?

My left hand has black nail polish and my right hand has no nail polish. They both need some serious help in the cuticle department. If only I believed in paying thirty bucks for a manicure. But I don't, because I'm broke, and also there are kids in africa with no food.

I am full up on pasta with not a cheeseburger in sight. Shame. Who told Italy to take over?

At this point in my education, I feel that professors who hold class on the friday before spring break ought to be guillotined. Twice.Or maybe three times, depending on the amount of homework given.

No matter how many times I add words to my phone's shamefully small vocabulary, I still end up having to spell out names like amy, katie, shane. Or I get any, kathe, and shame. And that makes my blood pressure go up. yes it does.

I am now going to go cry to the boys upstairs because I don't understand how to solve complex fractions. Sleep tight, internet. 

It's possible that my emotions are attatched to a Bungee Cord jumping off a bridge at this moment in time.

I feel so flattered.

My sister texted me yesterday to ask me to blog.

So now I have to, because Bekah asked for it and she is on my top three favorite people list today, and most days.  But I have been thinking all day about stuff to blog about and it's not working because all I really feel right now is the daybeforespringbreakbrainmush feeling. I'm done. So done. I don't even care anymore what I scored on those two tests I took today. Which is good because I had the headache from hades all day so I probably failed those. Except I didn't but I feel like I must have failed at everything today cause I feel so sick and gross. That's what happens when you stay up til one thirty, wake up and shower late so you don't have time to eat breakfast, and leave your wallet at home so you can't even go get a Pop Tart from a vending machine even though you are so hungry that your head is spinning in large concentric circles. So then I finished my tests, came home and ate food like a normal human, and I still feel like I am going to collapse in a heap.

What the heck is wrong with me? Because this post is for Bekah, I can say it.

Maybe I'm pregnant.

And now comes the disclaimer to the world. There is no way I am pregnant, unless we are talking about Star Wars and I am destined to be the mother of a little Sith Lord. Here's the story. Once upon a time when I was in Junior High, I was complaining to Bekah cause I felt sick. And she looked me straight in the face, and said, "Maybe you're pregnant." I was a very shocked fourteen year old person. And then I found out that Bekah and all her friends from work say that they are pregnant whenever anyone feels sick, or grumpy, or just looks at you wrong. So then I was no longer offended because my sister called me a skank, cause actually she was just indoctrinating me into the world of inside jokes from the ladies at the Harmons' Pharmacy.  And I felt okay. And now we say it all the time.

But really, I don't know what the crap is wrong with me! I always got carsick in the car, but now I get carsick all the time on solid ground. I used to think people who felt nauseous all the time were just saying that, but now I feel nauseous all the time. Even noises can throw me over the edge and make me want to puke. Yesterday in English we were watching TV clips and writing reviews on them to practice formulating thesis statements and somebody was cutting metal and I just couldn't stop the shuddering ripple that tore through my dizzy, weakened, body.  What is that about? I'm not actually pregnant, so why again have I been cursed with morning sickness problems? Mom says there is something wrong with my ears and that is why I am weird like this cause all your balance is from stuff in your ears or something all anatomyish like that. All I have to say is, real mature, body! There. Complaining complete.

I think I am done hating on my body which is really a wonderful thing. I appreciate walking, and eating, and breathing, and especially sleeping. There. Gratefullness plug complete. 

In other news, good things are going on in life. Like how that one English class I hate is officially done meeting for the rest of the semester and I never ever have to go again. And Sarah and Shane took me to Wendy's last night. So really, life's good.