Basic Math

As Sara rightly pointed out, none of us are normal.

For some reason, people tend to look down on smerfing...

This seems like a bad thing...until you think about it...

Somewhere somehow, there is a group of 12 people who are totally normal, thanks to us!

Society, you are welcome

now i'm three dollars richer!

sometimes, i like to think of myself as a crafty person. as such, there are various sewing/refashion blogs i follow. the other day, i was checking my favorite one and noticed one of the posts included a picture of a young-ish guy modeling a shirt the author refitted. said my-age-ish-looking guy was labeled as the author's younger brother. i couldn't help but notice that he was super familiar looking... but i figured he just had one of those faces.

tonight at dinner, a few boys came and sat at a table near where marina, sara, dallin and i were sitting. immediately i identified one of them as Blog Boy. after filling marina, sara and dallin in on the sitch, i began measuring how crazy it would be if i went and asked him if he really was the boy from the c&c blog. then i began measuring how awkward that conversation would be and decided it just wasn't worth the trouble...

until marina told me she would give me a dollar if i would talk to him. then dallin and sara offered to pitch in a dollar each, also. i almost never say no to free stuff, because i'm cheap- and i certainly don't say no to easy money! indeed, it was a strange and somewhat stilted conversation. because i don't know how to be normal. but nonetheless, i walked away with two IOUs and four quarters. win? i think so.

if sewing is your thing, or if you want to see the post, or if you just have some time to smerf, the blog is cottonandcurls.blogspot.com, and the Blog Boy post was written about a week ago about refitting t-shirts. check it out, the author is fantastic, and i think i secretly hope she'll notice traffic from my blog and come and read this and mention it and it'll be an awesome circle of upped views. true story.

Lies! All Lies!

Ciao ragazzi! It's Leah. Yup...the one who sounds totally crazy from this blog. Okay, fine so I may be a little crazy, but it's cool with me and I love my life. Anyways, I would like to clear up how the prank war really started. One fine late winter night, I was sitting on the floor in Katie and Sara's room. I found an empty Powerade bottle that was lemonade flavored and had a little left inside. It sort of looked life pee, so I jokingly said, "hey guys would you be mad if I peed in this bottle and put it in your fridge?" Sara and Katie both responded with, "Not at all. Go for it!" With the unexpected answer, I decided..."hmm I might as well". So I said, "I'm really going to do it then", and they gave me the okay. So there I was with a Powerade bottle that I did not originally intend on peeing in, but now that I said I would, I couldn't go back on my word. And so I did...and stuck it in their fridge while they were in class.

Thus we see, this prank war did NOT start by me saying, "hey guys, I'm going to pee in this bottle." Sort of. I just wasn't going to go back on my word. Moral of the story, I'm not that much of a freak. :) BUT, don't mess with me unless you want to get smerfed up. Woo! :)

because a prank war isn't a prank war unless it starts with a bottle of urine.

it started with an empty bottle of powerade. things just went bad from there- because nothing good comes from late nights. let me begin with that.

about two weeks ago, our dear friend leah was sitting in our room, talking with us, when she picked up a powerade bottle and said "hey guys, i'm going to pee in this." i was like "sure, ok leah, whatever" and dismissed her. until a bottle, helpfully labeled "Pee for Katie" showed up in our fridge. after some very scientific tests, it was confirmed as pee.

one of these things is a bottle of urine. the other is a piece of corn. guess which one leah was freaked by?

we were appalled and revenge hungry. so on a fine sunday evening, we snuck into her room while she was out and stole her closet door as well as the face to her dresser drawers. unfortunately, she figured out what was going on and caught us in the act. that was the turning point in which leah opted for war.

before/after

sara, jessie and i went to my house last weekend for some much-needed girl time. fearing revenge, we were careful to make sure the doors were locked and no one left leah any chance to break in. i should have seen the signs saturday night, when leah starts texting me, asking me if i like sausage, but not telling me why.

anyways, we came home monday night to a room completely SMERFED up! she inflated over 100 trash bags and hung them from the ceiling and walls, she switched mine and sara's mattresses, she wrote "poop" all over our window, she switched all our drawers (jessie's and marina's, also) and she hid a bunch of vending machine sausage on a secret shelf. also, she claims to have peed in our sink. probably, that really happened- we don't like to think about that.

the moral of the story is that leah is a wildcard, but revenge is in the works. more on that later...

Missing. Presumed Married.

We don't react to disappearances very well around here. The other day Katie walked out of the room (without her phone) and didn't return for ages. We began to panic. When she finally came back, we demanded to know where she had been.
Her: Jeez guys, I was only gone for like forty minutes.
Me: It was long enough. We assumed you had gotten married.

Today, I went to take a test, and apparently I didn't give enough advance warning, because I came out to find eight or nine new text messages.

Jessie: It's been forty minutes...are you married?
...
Are you dead???
...
They have fried ravioli at dinner!! (because even the dead/married need ravioli)
...
Btw fhe is at seven. You should come home before then!!
...
If you're planning to elope, you at least need to let me go dress shopping with you!!

Sara disappears all the time, so she probably has at least twelve husbands by now. The moral of the story is that we have too much free time. Or too little. Or that we're clingy. I'm not totally sure where I was going with this.

Smerf. This is really important to some people.

Wendy's: The Fast Food Failure.

Did you know that at Wendy's you can "eat great, even late?" But only if you have a car. Multiple times we have tried to go on a late night Wendy's run, only to discover they will not give you fast food goodness unless you have a car and can go through the drive through. The first time this happened, we just borrowed a car from a few random men. No big deal, guys, don't worry. We're alive and still virgins.  The second time, we had no choice but to smerf back to campus and grab my car. Lame.

By the way, did you know Wendy's gives out their recipes? They print them all over the bags! They're going to go out of business if they keep giving out their secrets like this....

Also, have caution. Fireworks are allowed on the grass. Good to know.

Some wise wisdom. Or something.

YUMMY!!!!!

In conclusion, don't go to Wendy's, because they're racist against people who don't have cars, and they give out their recipes anyway, so you might as well just make the fast food yourself at home. The End.

(not so) subliminal messaging... pun intended!

i want to preface this story with the following scientific facts:

1. i do NOT condone swearing!

2. in fact, i did not ever swear in high school.

3. somehow, since coming to a private religious university, i've started swearing. not regularly or anything, don't call the bishop- just now and then.

that preface got bad fast... anyway, here's the real story. abbreviated. i got into a fight with a close friend of mine this morning, and i was so mad about it all that i changed his name in my phone. i don't want to even be tempted to text him or call him until he's nice to me again (i sound really petty here. which i am. but if you knew the whole thing, i like to think you'd understand. but probably, it'd still be petty.), so (DON'T JUDGE) i changed his name to "ASSHOLE."*

this is where things got weird. when i tried to rename him, this is what happened:

looks about right, yeah? well when i hit save, the following is what it saved as:

WHY?!?

why is my phone censoring me? why did it change his name to "Buttface" and not "Butthole?" how does it know his last name still, to include it after "Buttface?" IS "BUTTFACE" EVEN A WORD?! i feel like i'm taking CRAZY pills or something!

probably this is a cosmic sign. but c'mon universe, i think i've only sworn like four times this whole school year! regardless, i'm still trying to figure out what is going on. if you have an explanations or theories, please let me know!

-katie

*every time you start judging me, read scientific facts 1 and 3. and remember that i'm a crazy person, so you have to be nice to me. or else i'll pull out the full crazy on you and smerf you while you sleep.

science is the worst.

last week in my physical science lab, we went over a sample question in which we discussed Einstein's theories of relativity and the six self-evident truths. in particular, we went over the principle of simultaneity.

the problem we were to puzzle over explained an argument between me and my non-gender friend. in this "real-life" situation, my friend is standing on a railcar that is traveling at 3/4 the speed of light. as i watch he/she/it pass by, lightning bolts strike BOTH the front and the back of the railcar.

now i'm supposed to figure out who saw how much lightning when and where and other such nonsense. here are the real questions. HOW is my friend just casually traveling on top of an open railcar at three quarters the speed of light. now i've been educated in idaho. i don't know much about science... but i'm pretty sure that the speed of light is REALLY FREAKING FAST!

second, WHY IS NO ONE CONCERNED THAT MY FRIEND'S CABLE CAR WAS HIT BY LIGHTNING?! obviously the whole argument is moot, as my friend is DEAD now. if the absurdly unrealistic traveling speed didn't kill him/her/it, clearly the lightning would have.

i almost didn't answer the question. out of principle. but i couldn't bring myself to lose points on such an easy assignment. so instead, i left this:

the moral of the story is that science is whack. as is my friend, because he/she/lady gaga was clearly smerfed over by fate, and is probably dead.

no worries, we only TRIED to kill each other

This semester, I registered for a beginning racquetball class hoping to improve my game...however, I believe that I have gotten worse. It's probably my own fault. In this class, I am not alone. My friend Vanessa has it with me. You know the drill: if you know someone within your class, you usually practice with them. This may not be such a good idea. You see, Vanessa and I try and kill each other.

When we actually end up playing a game, we only partially play. A fourth of the time, we spend watching the ball fly by us, too lazy to chase after it. A fourth we actually attempt to to hit the ball, but completely smerf it up. The next fourth we spend on the floor laughing because of our ridiculousness. And the last, we actually play. You see how this is a very counterproductive class?

Lately however, I've been noticing a trend. Either we subconsciously hate each other and our mind guides our racquet, or Vanessa and I have amazing skills of almost hitting people. We have a record number of near misses on our score charts. A few hits have even been noted. But nbd guys, we're not actually trying to kill each other...it just comes naturally.

What's even worse: we've started playing doubles in class. We have played three games. Out of those three games (and six people) we have 'almost' hit every single one of the players (including ourselves) multiple times. And out of those three games, we have at least hit someone in two out of the three games. However, we are not to be held liable; we warned them in the beginning that we are "very good at almost hitting people". I even apologized!!...through our fits of laughter. (yeah, most of the hits were my fault..) I did feel remorse (my bad Matt and girl whose name I can't remember), but you have to admit that it is slightly hilarious.

Needless to say, Vanessa and I have become really good at dodging accelerating projectiles. But if one day I just vanish from off this blog due to untimely death via racquetball...you'll know why. But don't blame Vanessa, it's not like it was on purpose or anything...

things be gettin' real up in hurr.

the knuckle tatts are back. with a vengeance.

things started simple enough... sara wanted to reintroduce my thug life.

that sparked a hallway fad. i took a break from accounting, and started demanding to see some knuckles. everyone i got to walked away with a sweet gangsta persona (or something like it).

just for kicks and giggles, marina found this:

be afraid. or we'll smerf you in the esophogus with our new, intimidating knuckles. more likely, we'll just bare our knuckles at you and give you our most gangstalicious face (see immediately above). anyway, if you want some sweet tatts, you know where to come.

as a fun corollary, can you spot what's wrong with my renewed thug life tat? brownie points to whoever figures it out first.

Happy Death Poems

Yes. You read that right. Happy death poems. We had a contest to see who could write the best happy poem about death. Katie and Marina and I each wrote 3, and then we had Jessie be the judge. However, she was indecisive, so we called in Leah to be a guest judge. She, also, couldn't decide between two of them, so we called in Emily, Vanessa, and Nicole to have the final say. Here are the contestants:

Sara:

I'm writing of death.

And yet I am so happy.

I am the winner.

One day there was a man named Frank.

He was angry and tried to rob a bank.

So he ran through the door

And fell to the floor.

Turns out he was killed by a tank.

According to Gandalf, when you die

You don't get a huge face full of cow pie

You see silver gates

And your old dead mates.

So don't be scared as your body begins to fry.

Marina:

Hiding in the tree-

the big deer walks by at last-

perfect shot- got him!

He broke my heart again,

so I shot him in the head.

There was much rejoicing.

I chased after it for hours

almost got it near the flowers

when I tripped over that vase

I saw it laughing in my face

but that fly no longer cowers.

Katie:

there was a dead girl.

she died laughing at our blog.

totes a true story.

sara just told me

i have to write another.

dolphins are the worst.

guys, i hate haikus.

really, i hate writing these.

vote for me, i'm best.

Leah:

i savor the smell

when i am in the bathroom

unclogging toilets

Random Other:

Don't dwell on revenge.

Anger not at stupid folks.

They all end up dead.

The winner ended up being the one about the tank, but it is still a confused and insecure victory, as none of our judges were incredibly sure about their choices. Oh well.

Comment and/or vote! Which one do YOU think should win as the happiest death poem???

our new friend.

i was talking to sara about the nice opthamologist i met last friday. she reminded me that he was actually a phlebotomist. then asked me if i knew what an opthamologist was, anyway. yes, i do- it's an eye doctor. then marina had to show us up. we're both wrong- eye doctors are called optometrists. then we started talking about optomologists, and got all turned around trying to figure out what an optomologist and opthamologist is. we still aren't sure.

but i digress.

last friday, i met a nice phlebotomist (guys, that word is spelled right- i googled it!). i went in to give blood after physical science and was settled with a phlebotomology (that one is probably definitely misspelled) expert named landen. remember that one time i explained how i'm crazy, but i try to dole it out? well that went out the window in his presence. i'm a rambler. that much is painfully clear if you actually read the whole first paragraph. when i'm nervous (i get realll scared when i give blood), things get much stranger.

turns out my phlebotomologist friend is good at rolling with the punches. when i accused him of not doing his job right, he didn't jab the needle in harder. when i panicked because i almost fell out of my tilty chair, he showed me how it goes back and forth just a weensy woony bit and told me to cool it- it's not an exercise chair. when jessie mentioned that she drinks blood sometimes, he was only mildly alarmed. most importantly, he only gave me the "wow this girl is insane" side glances a few times. guys, he's a pro.

finally, before i left, he asked me which color gauze i wanted him to wrap my arm with. i told him i wanted both. he asked what color i wanted first, to which i replied "surprise me." surprise me he did.

that's a bow, you guys! a bow, on top of the regular wrap!

anyway, sorry if you were hoping for a real story, and you read all this just to find out i'm done, and there wasn't even a point to this post. jeez, cut me some slack, it's two in the morning and i've been working on accounting homework for at least five of the last eight hours (ok, ok, at least 90 minutes of that five hours was spent smerfing the internet). on that note, night night, don't let the bed bugs bite!

-katie

...and that's why you shouldn't leave Katie and me alone with your computer