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.

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.

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.

ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST

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!)

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.

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:

THE FIVE BEST THINGS ABOUT ROSE!

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!