Mother Goose: Innocent Nursery Rhyme Author, or Bankrupt Philanthropist?

My family is weird.  Ya know how Santa comes on Christmas?  Well, in my family, Mother Goose comes on New Year's Eve and gives presents to children.  I'm not sure if they have to be good or not.  I'm also not sure about a bunch of other things.  Like, Why doesn't Mother Goose come to everyone?  Why New Year's Eve?  How does she get in the house?  Is she actually a goose, or does she just call herself that?  And where do the famous nursery rhymes come in?

In order to find out, I asked a bunch of my family members about Mother Goose.  Turns out, they all had different theories.

One theory is that Mother Goose is just that--a goose.  10 feet tall, in fact.  She carries the gifts in her ginormous tail feathers.  And as she flies off into the night, she cries, "HONK!  Happy New Year!  HONK!"

Theory Number Two:  Mother Goose is not actually a goose. She's an old Grandma.  Very similar to Mrs. Clause.  She owns a goose.  She rides it, in fact.  Now, I've seen geese, and they're not big enough to ride.  So, either this goose is inherently magic, or it eats those little pills like on Alice in Wonderland, that make it grow or shrink depending on which one it eats.

Who knows.

And, apparently, she only comes to some houses.  Like, not even all our state, or our county, or even all of our city.  In fact, I'm pretty sure we're the only house she comes to.  Weird...

So, if you ever want to find out more about Santa Clause, read a book or watch a Christmas movie.  There are none of those about Mother Goose, so good luck.  Oh, and happy new year.  Or something at the end of February.  Honk.

An email to a roommate MIA

Dearest Katie,

I have to be honest with you.  Ever since you left, we've had a hole in our hearts.  We were afraid that our apartment would be forever lacking one, and we couldn't bear living like that.  But then, something marvelous happened!  We replaced you!  Hannah is great, but after a few days we knew that she would never fill that hole in us created when you went to Jerusalem.  This led us to think:  Is Katie the reason for that hole?  We have replaced you, you'd think the hole would be full.  But no, after a few weeks thinking on the matter, we discovered the real reason for the hole: Zac Efron.  He's gone, Katie.  You dragged him out of our home, and we miss him terribly. Hannah doesn't replace him the same way she does you.  We needed another "Zac Efron"-esque roommate.  And we needed him fast.


That being said, it was Jessie's birthday yesterday!  We had a party and balloons and cake and the whole shibang.  It might be worth mentioning that it was Tyler Nicholas' birthday as well.  Have you ever met Tyler's sister, Sarah?  I've only met her once, but she's fantastic.  In fact, she printed out ginormous pictures of Tyler and hung them up in the halls of Building 4 so that anyone passing by would be bombarded with his smiling face, with text on the picture announcing it was his special day!  


It is now that our two stories combine.  It is here that I feel I must also warn you.  It has been far too long since we've seen you, Katie.  Like, a whole two weeks!  You may have forgotten.  Katie, I beg you to remember that we are the kind of people who would keep a bottle of urine in our fridge until it starts to freeze and turn to slushy pee.  We are the kind of people who get very excited over a new product known simply as "Handerpants."  And yes, Katie.  We are the kind of people who take full size pictures of other people's boyfriends and hang them on the walls of our apartment.  Especially if said pictures are this one:

Yes.  T-Nick is in the house.  Specifically OUR house.  And though he may not be a celebrity like Zac, you've got to admit, we've definitely got the next best thing.


Hope all is well with you and yours!  Have a wonderful day.  And please, try your hardest not to miss us too much.  Crying like that is just embarrassing.

-Sara

Eat All the Food!

So Katie and I are in a cooking class together.  Yes I realize many of you might be laughing about this, thinking, "Seriously? You're in college and you're choosing to take a cooking class?" (or maybe that's just my mother thinking that).  But let me point a few things out.
1. This is my only class on Fridays.  All I do is cook and eat delicious food for 3 hours.
2. We get a free meal every Friday.  We usually stuff ourselves to the point where I don't even really need dinner, so it's basically two meals at this point.
3.  Since we are the last class on Fridays, we get all of the food that they have to throw out.  So I get even more free food!!
4. We get delicious recipes out of this as well.
5. We get to rock out to Rebecca Black's "Friday" every week.

Ya I know, the last point doesn't get me either.  But the first four are great ones!  While we're cooking, we love to sneak food.  We're hungry, poor college students!  We can't help it!  Our favorites are the batters....This is a problem.  There is a rule against eating batter.  How rude!!  No worries readers; we found a solution! We said, "Smerf it!"

This was taken by our lab partner.  That behind us is our sink: the only safe zone in the lab.  We both suddenly ducked down and started licking this delicious chocolate frosting off of the beaters.  A couple people saw us (luckily none were the teacher or strict TA's).  We got some weird looks, but I think they were just jealous they didn't think of it first.

S"NERF"ING ADVENTURES

So, today, we went crazy.  But that's normal here.  We went a special kind of crazy today.  Our roommate Jessica came with two nerf guns (one with a laser to help you aim... so cool!) so we've been randomly attacking people throughout the semester.  But today, the flame within us grew to a forest fire.  We began to desire something more.  A full out war, instead of just sporadic battles.  So we all went out and did the practical thing: bought all the nerf guns we could afford!!!  Which, albeit, was not many, but now we all have one.  We defended the decision with the fact that these guns would probably come in handy if ever a zombie apocalypse were to occur.  At least, they couldn't hurt.  I am the proud owner of TWO nerf guns.  Be afraid, cuz I've been practicing my aim.

See?  Aim at Marina:  Check! 

Aim at the camera: Check!

And lastly, aim at the ceiling: Check!  I'm good at this.

We plan on attacking any unsuspecting intruders.  Or non-intruders.  If you walk anywhere near the vicinity of our building, watch your back.  Or don't, and then you can be blissfully unaware of what is sneaking up behind you.  Mwahaha....

BYU Addictive Substances

We take what we can get.  And we abuse it heavily.  At the moment, all of us have an incredibly unhealthy obsession with this song:

Skip to 1:59.  Trust me.

The effects are borderline inappropriate.  It's like Ecstasy, but you won't get kicked out of school for listening to it.  Musical Ecstasy.  Yes.

Join us...... It's fun..... You know you want to...... Live a little..... YOLO.

Dance shoes off the Black Market

Yes.  So sketch.

So, here are my new character shoes for folk dance:

**Disclaimer: These are not actually my legs.  I found them on the internet.  I love the internet.... I claim no right to these legs.  No copyright infringement was intended.  The right to these legs remains with the owner, whoever she (or I guess it could be a really strange 'he') may be**

I finally got them today after procrastinating and somehow getting away with not having them last year.... but I finally did have to get them.  $56.  Guys, I have a somewhat expensive hobby.  But that's not even the worst part.  The worst part was going to get them.

So, folk dance is pretty political, in that you can't even try out for the higher level teams unless you have the right shoes.  Not just character shoes, the right character shoes.  But no one is allowed to tell you where to get them.  If they were to tell you a certain store that sold the right character shoes, then other places could sue BYU and say that they are favoring that store.  So, legally, they aren't allowed to tell you who sells them.  The politically correct answer when faced with the question is, "oh, you know, you just get them around..."  You have to know who to ask--who is exempt from the law, and can give you this secret information. 

I ended up finding out where they were sold through a friend who had been on one of the top teams.  You'll never guess where you go to get them.  A tuxedo shop.  Of course, right?  It's a small shop--and I mean really small.  The shop is tucked in the corner of a shared business complex with a tiny sign.  It's owned by the head of the folk dance department's husband.  But technically he's not allowed to sell them, so he keeps them in the back room.  And when you buy them, you have to use cash or check--no credit card.  Too many legal issues. 

So here's how it went down.  I kept my ears open for mentions of people who might have access to valuable information.  I would track those people down and hope for a more specific answer than the usual "oh, you just find them around..."  Eventually I was able to get the name "Perfectly Suited by Garth."  Then the trouble was finding it.  I went down University Avenue until I was around the right place, and went into an old salon/tattoo shop.  Some one noticed me and said, "Nice weather we're having, isn't it?"  I answered, "Yes, but I always carry an umbrella."  Apparently those were the secret words, because then they told me to go down the hall to the back of the store and enter the second door on my right after knocking four times in quick succession.  I did so, and an old man let me in.  "I'm assuming you're not here to buy a tux," he said.  I then told him I was there to buy dance shoes, and he took me into the back room of his already "back room" shop.  I tried on the shoes, found some that fit, and then paid for them in cash.  As I left, I had the strange sensation that I had better keep a look out for cops, but without looking too guilty.  I was smuggling drugs guys.  Or something like that.  Dance shoes off of the Black Market.  Sketch.

bribery. done right.

as mentioned previously, Jessie and I were enrolled in a physical science course this semester.  as you may have gathered, I'm not particularly fond of physical science- in fact, I equate physical science with grapes and crocs on a scale of things that disgust me.  correspondingly, my grade was a little low.  so when our TA offered extra points if we would bring treats to the last lab session of the semester, I jumped at the opportunity.

unfortunately, I got the dates mixed up and forgot. undaunted, I decided to follow through on my quest. I promised delicious treats, and I was determined to deliver. after I finished my accounting exam, I went back to the creamery to get the necessary supplies for brownies. they had plenty of mix... but no eggs.  luckily, I remembered the plates of brownies for sale at the Cougar Eat that I had seen just the day before.  I met Jessie and Sara at the Cougar Eat and continued my search.  turns out the brownie plates were a one time thing.  feeling a little panicky at this point, I went to the Sweet Shoppe, where there are always brownies... except for today.  when Sara mentioned that the Cannon Center might have brownies, I made some frantic calls ro Marina, begging her to steal me some.  reluctantly, she acquiesced.  fifteen minutes later, she delivered this:

brilliant, right?  i really love marina. she walked into the Cannon Center, stole as many brownies as she dared, then made Dallin steal some more brownies for her, then wrapped them up in a napkin and stuffed them all in her pocket.

Rachael, the TA, told me she was in the Benson building, and I could leave the brownies for her by either of the classrooms next to the elevator.  I went to the science building, where I did not see any classrooms by either of the elevators.  confused, I left the brownies in a mushy, napkin-y heap on the ground by the elevator with a brief note.  feeling significantly shady, Jessie and I informed Rachael of the successful drop off and called it a job well done.

turns out I went to the wrong building.  hence the lack of classrooms.  I mindlessly smerfed my way to the science building in which we had our weekly lab sessions, not the building she directed me to.  she found the brownies, but the whole thing made me feel like an idiot.

in sum, I was unable to bake the brownies.  I was unable to buy the brownies.  I was unable to even personally acquire any brownies.  then, when I finally got ahold of brownies, I delivered them to the wrong place.  as Rachael rightly pointed out, the whole thing was eerily similar to a sketchy drug deal.  a Mormon version of a drug deal, if you will, in which I bribed my TA with stolen goods for a few extra points that ultimately didn't even change my grade.

best attempted bribery. ever.

think of the possibilities!

ok first: possibilities is a deceptively hard word to spell.

second: for some funtertainment, smerf the picture provided here.

now onto more pressing issues: i think i control time now. or something. when i tried publishing a post about a week ago, a notice (the one in red/yellow in the right corner) appeared.

HOW DOES TIME NOT EXIST?! i understand daylight savings (kind of. i use the term "understand" very loosely here) and spring forward and whatnot (ok i totally get confused by daylight savings, but it's ok because i have great roommates and family who explain it to me). so i guess, in theory, this hour is just gone. but that kind of blows my mind. and somehow, when i try to comprehend the idea of an hour just not existing, the only thing i can think of is that i should be taking advantage of this non-hour. THINK OF THE CRIMES I COULD COMMIT!

officer: "where were you from of 1am and 3am on sunday, march eleventh?"

me: "well at one, i was in my room writing a blog post. and at three i was still in my room, sleeping."

officer: "and what about two o clock?"

me: "it's daylight savings, sir. there was no two o clock."

officer: "ah, well that seems like a sound alibi. on your way, then."

and that's how i successfully robbed the candy factory downtown that is never open when we try to visit it. without even lying! try having normal operating hours, guys, and maybe i wouldn't hypothetically rob you of all your delicious sweets and treats. your call.

Scooters, and the Many Uses Thereof.

We got ourselves some brand new wheels, y'all!  

Isn't it hot??  We named him Jorge.  It's a Spanish name, apparently.  Which means it is not pronounced like "George."  Duh.  Who would think that?

In testing out our new wheels, we've taken Jorge all over Helaman Halls.  Outside, inside, even up and down the stairs.  We've discovered that it's so much easier and faster to scooter down the hall rather just walk.  Psh.  We don't walk.  Come on.  That's so mainstream.

Because of Jorge the scooter, we have stumbled upon an important truth- and we even did it using the
scientific method.

Step 1: Ask a question.
Would it be beneficial to you to have a scooter if you were randomly being attacked by a mad man?

Step 2: Do background research.
Surprisingly, there are not many scholarly articles on the most effective use of a scooter if one is being raped or molested.  Too bad.  So we settled with asking a few of our hall mates what they thought.  Mostly, we just got weird looks, so we abandoned our research and moved on to step 3.

Step 3: Construct hypothesis.
Having a scooter like Jorge with you in the event of unsuspected attack would be beneficial because you could scoot speedily away.

Step 4: Test with an experiment.
This was easy enough.  Katie and I took turns playing "Mad Rapist" while the other scootered down the hall at high speed.  Turns out, no matter who was running and who was scooting, the runner could always catch them.  We wanted more evidence, however, so we recruited Leah to help us.  She was very willing to chase us down the hall, and the same thing happened.  It wasn't until she switched roles that we realized there was more to this experiment than met the eye.  Leah, upon being chased, turned around to face her attacker.  She picked up Jorge the scooter and began to beat the "Mad Rapist" until she no longer felt threatened.  Then she calmly set Jorge down and walked back to her room.

Step 5: Analyze results and draw conclusion.
If you are ever scootering through campus, be aware that although it may be faster and less work than walking (especially down hill), nothing is faster than just plain running.  So if your fight or flight instinct tells you to run, ditch Jorge.  He'll live, I promise.  And he might even find it in his heart to forgive you.  Eventually.  But if your fight or flight instinct tells you to beat the living daylights out of the creepy man behind you, smerf off and let Jorge do all the work.

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.

I'm out of toothpaste. (sarcasm font)

Sara: Hey.
Me: Hey there.
Sara: 'sup
Me: Studying in the lobby with awkward couples.
Sara: YEEESSSS!!!!!!
Me: Your enthusiasm is inspiring. I think Jessie and I are now going out by default.
Sara: Going out....?
Me: We had to complete the Vegas marriage circle. Obviously.
Sara: Ah. Lesbian. Sweeeeet dude....
Me: Basically. Is this against the honor code?
Sara: ....Let's say no.
Me: Oh good. We wouldn't want to do anything scandalous.
Sara: Never! *gasp*
Me: I resent your insinuation that we are anything but model citizens.
Sara: Well, we were late to FHE...I'm pretty sure that's the worst thing we've ever done though.
Me: Have we ever been on time...to anything?
Sara: I was on time to dinner once. **
Me: I aspire to be you someday.
Sara: I know. It was only a matter of time.
Me: Because you just have that effect on people?
Sara: Now you understand.

**Commentary by Jessie: "How can you be on time to dinner???? It's not a scheduled thing!!! I don't understand!!!" As I am typing this, Marina is smerfing up in fits of laughter. She is clutching her stomach because of said fits. Would you like to know what said fits are about? Marina was worried no one would get the extreme sarcasm in this conversation so Sara suggested having a sarcasm font. Marina's retort what was, "I would always use that font! 'Hey Jessie, do you want to go to dinner?'" Katie proceeded to sit there and think it over trying to understand the sarcasm in it...until she realized that that was the whole point of it...Oh look, Marina's back in fits of laughter...

yelling at a cop isn't illegal... right?

because if it is, i'm in trouble.

last night was a big basketball game. i went out with leah and marina, and when i came back, all the spots in our parking lot were full because of all the jerks who stole our parking for the game. as i circled, i became increasingly angry and aggressive, especially in passing people who were parked in non parking spots that made it difficult for me to drive through the lots.

on my last circuit of the lot, i came around a bend where a large truck was obnoxiously stopped in the middle of the road. not in the middle of his lane- in the middle. of the road. and not only was this jerk obstructing traffic, but his brights were on, which made it even more difficult to maneuver around him.

by this point, i was so smerfed up because i couldn't park ANYwhere, that i threw my arms up and started yelling things at this guy from inside my car. he was out, walking around the side of his car, and threw his arms up at me too and started yelling at me. i finally got around the nose of his truck... and was able to see the university police logo on the side of his door. then, looking back, i noticed he was in a police uniform.

i yelled at a cop tonight, folks. THAT'S why you shouldn't drive angry... you do stupid things like make angry gestures at authority figures, and then park in the dairy queen parking lot because you're afraid he'll hunt you down and ticket you and send you to jail. true story.

true story.

sara starts laughing. i creep on her, and immediately know i have to post this. if you don't know why, quit smerfing around and get to reading.

-katie

too legit (to quit).

this past weekend, i went to vegas with some friends (probably there will be more about this later). during one particularly crazy hour, i was offered a tramp stamp by our lovely friend, leah. obviously i said yes. and then chickened out.

leah doesn't take no for an answer, and after a very smerf-tastic struggle, i ended up on my back, held down by three people while leah took a sharpie to all readily available, unmarked surfaces of my skin.

i ended up with a face on my stomach, a diagram of cave people shooting and roasting a sheep on one arm from alex, a gorgeous likeness of myself from marina on the other arm, and a portrait of thomas hobbes and john locke on each shoulder from michael and asa, respectively.

most importantly though, leah gave me knuckle tatts, deeming mine a "thug life."

that was on saturday night. i washed everything else off for church, but decided to leave the knuckle threats. as a warning. (un)fortunately, i washed off the "t" before making said earlier decision. leaving a more accurate representation of my life:

not ready to let go of my new lifestyle, i had nate reapply my tatts, but with a new addition, courtesy of asa (who decided the night before that we should all replace our "l"s with "r"s):

and that's the story of how i became a mob boss.

because nothing's more legit than a sharpie tattoo.

-katie