Weed: the Key to Being a Better Mom

Daytime TV sucks. There really is no variety to the shows. You can choose from like, 50 different soap operas, (but to tell you the truth, I really see no difference in any of them) Judge Judy, or Maury. Only people who's lives are seriously messed or people who find entertainment in other people's messed up lives would be able to stand it.
Today, after getting all my homework done before noon, I crashed in front of the TV, fully expecting to fall asleep in the first 5 minutes. Guess what I watched? The Tyra Banks show! YES! Guess what it was about? Mothers who think it's totally fine to smoke pot in front of their kids. In fact, they think it makes them better mothers. EVEN BETTER!
It made me sad to think that this is what our society has come to. Who in their right minds would even consider smoking pot and think there's nothing wrong with it when they are a parent. I mean, I know teenagers a stupid. I've known a lot of them. But, shouldn't parents have some kind of conscience when it comes to crap like that?! It's pathetic to think that 12-year-olds are more responsible than 30-somethings . . .

Guitar Lessons

Songs I'm dying to learn on the guitar:

1. White Horse by Taylor Swift
2. Hey Ya by (originally) Outkast
3. Teardrops On My Guitar by Taylor Swift
4. Hear You Me by Jimmy Eat World
5. Breakeven by The Script
6. Collide by Howie Day
7. Fairytale by Taylor Swift
8. Fireflies by Owl City
9. You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift
10. The Only Exception by Paramore

5 More Minutes

I am a patron of the night. I love mornings with the sunrise and the birds chirping and all that jazz; however, I am firmly in the belief that waking up before the sun should be considered illegal. Actually, add on a couple of hours after the sun gets up and you've got yourself a deal.
You'd think that for a person who had to wake up at 5 am everyday for 4 years would be able to handle it. I cannot. My bed is way too comfortable for my own good in the mornings. In fact, if i absolutely have to wake up early, I DO NOT talk. I am the type of person disgustingly, cheerful morning people try to avoid. Just give me a few hours and I'll come around.
On the flip side, I love nighttime. It's the time that school and other unpleasantries cannot touch. It's date time, movie night, and doorbell ditching time. It's when I can have F.U.N.
I truly do wish that I could be a morning person. After all, it is healthier and I'd get more stuff completed. But, after 4 years of attempting it, (for the sake of my dancing career) I think it's safe for me to say, "I hate morning people." No offense.

Flirtations

In the old days, it started with middle school. There were known then as the 'bra-stuffers'. They hooked up with older guys and vandalized school property. In high school, you could find them everywhere. They were the cheerleaders, the freshmen who had 'little-man' syndrome, and the girls who ended up pregnant senior year and dropping out to become full-time, perpetually struggling, single moms. Needless to say, I was never a part of the flirtatious girl group. In fact, I pretty much stayed away from guys in general. They intimidated the crap out of me.
My roommate is the epitome of the flirtatious girl, only without the whole pregnancy, teen mom thing going on. She's the Mormon version, I guess. I knew that if I ever wanted any semblance of a social life when it came to members of the opposite sex, I had to assert myself just as much as she does. The only problem is, is that I'm not that girl at all. I am the quiet type who is pretty much invisible. I decided once that I didn't want to be invisible anymore, but no one else got the hint that I changed my mind. Funny.
So I observed her. She flirted shamelessly with guys on end, be they premis, RMs, or just plain, weird guys. She left a train of broken hearts behind her. I tried to flirt how she flirted, making the guy feel that he had your complete attention and he was the only interesting guy there. It never worked. As I said, no one got told that I don't want to be invisible anymore. But, I kept at it, only to discover it led me to a place I never wanted to go.

Kumbaya Baby

I am not a camper by any means of the word. I am the sissy girl who enjoys hotel rooms and flushing toilets. I forever have a fear of falling into the outhouse hole into the not-so-mysterious blackness below. I abhor mosquitoes, fire-pit smoke, and the utter freezing cold in the mornings. Call my what you will, but I am not a camper.
So I do find it extremely ironic that I chose to go camping with my roommate, her brother, his two friends that find it somewhat hilarious to tease me, and five other random people. But, hey, it's college. We believe in the social life. We try new things. We do stupid stuff.
The camping trip began by caravan-ing an hour and a half up by Ogden. I had a sneaking suspicion that one of the guys leading was drunk. Well, okay, not really, but you know what I mean. By the time we had arrived at the campsite, I had absolutely no trust in the guys. I did not want to get out of my car, in fear that they would just jump back into their car and drive off. This was going to be an awesome couple of days. . .
We ate bar-b-que chicken sandwiches, (the boys had baked beans with theirs) and threw a ball around the campfire. This ball had a plethora of random questions written all over, and whichever question your right thumb landed on, you had to answer that one. Pretty soon, the ball ended up in the fire as I so awesomely predicted. We talked, we laughed at the guy to tripped over a log and body slammed the ground, we drank caffeine, we went to sleep. That's when the real party began.
Now normally, my roommate and I can get pretty hyper. But, neither of us had ever really tried an energy drink and we were mildly curious to experience the effect. We were not disappointed. Many pictures, uncontrollable laughing sessions, listening to the guys baked beans kick in, and about five hours later, we really went to sleep.
The next morning my roommate and I spent the entire morning skipping rocks on the beach, waiting for the guys to come pick us up to go boating. Did they ever show up? Nope. Of course not. But, we had a blast building a sand castle, complete with moat and water slide! Sound fun? It was a blast.

You Need To Stop the Q-Tip When There's Resistance!!!

the stupid things we do in college . . .
1. Hilary literally thinking my burp is a bear growling
2. Drinking Monsters at a camp site at 2 am
3. Random people thinking we were drunk on trax
4. Attempting the gallon challenge with choc. milk. I survive. Hil didn't
5. Playing hide and seek in the Orem Walmart
6. Lost a bet during Dr. Pepper pong and bleaching a section of our hair
7. Dying that bleached section hot pink
8. Both of us falling on the HBLL stairs
9. Trying to prank guys with shaving cream
10. Convinced guys to be the Spice Girls with us for Halloween
11. Had a food fight with chocolate desert in some guys kitchen
12. Climbing on top of a moose statue in some random neighborhood
13. Foolishly eating cookies that had salt and tabasco sauce instead of sugar
14. Doing yoga on gravel
15. Slid down seats as a race during a Jazz game
16. Piled plastic cups into a pyramid on some guy's bed
17. Played Chinese Fire Drill at 3 am
18. Climbed into a little kid's ice cream truck and got stuck
19. Played mattress dominoes
20. Played mini golf in a lightning storm

Successes of a Sunday Night

Ever since the beginning of the year, we've been trying to be more social, more accepting, more outgoing. (When I say 'we' I mean my roommate and me). However, it's a little bit difficult to be social when you have your whole ward in one tiny apartment, meant for 6 people. It's also hard when you're naturally an introvert, like myself.
Last night, a Sunday night, we tried again. It's been a whole week and a half since we've been here and we still don't know anyone in our own ward. So we went to an ice cream social in some guy's apartment. I still don't know what guy it even was. I couldn't hear myself think. Stranger's voices were pressing in on the walls of my head, gradually getting louder because they couldn't even hear themselves. I plopped myself down on the back of a couch with my store-bought cookie, attempting a conversation with a guy who had the misfortune of looking like a deacon. He knew of this misfortune as well, poor guy. Pretty soon, a couple of cute guys who had a hard time remembering my name, bless their hearts, invited us to join them in the courtyard to play games. I was more than eager to extract myself from the room. I wound and squeezed my way through what seemed like an impossibly tight room, and then hurdled over random people camping out on the stairwell.
The name of the game was Ninja. Don't ask me to explain it, for I stank at it and I was only there for the cute guys, sad enough as it is. It got old after a while anyway, but I didn't want to leave. My goal was to be social and make friends. However, the game got stale. Watching people try to hit other people for 20 minutes was long enough. My roommate got bored with it as well and we agreed to go back to our apartment and kick off our Disney Movie Sundays. As luck would have it, the two cute guys overheard our conversation and were immediately intrigued. We invited them over to watch Up, the movie neither of them had seen, for they were two recently RMs.
We rushed home and began, frantically, to make brownies, smoothies, and popcorn. Soon enough the guys arrived, bringing with them a few more guys. It was a good night. After the movie, in an attempt to have them stay just a little bit longer, we bribed them to play Apples to Apples. It worked. Apart from the fact that during the night we received a couple unwanted visitors, and once it hit midnight-thirty we wanted to go to sleep, it was a pretty awesome night.
Thank you Walt Disney.