The Story of Why I'm Not Allowed to Go Back to the Library. Like, Ever.

There are two places in the library where I study.

1. The periodicals, my favorite place on campus.  Open, well lit, lots of windows, some trees (real ones, I kid you not), and plenty of space.

Unfortunately, I have a hard time focusing, so if I need to study hardcore, I can't stay in the periodicals.  There are too many people and far too many loud librarians who think loudly refilling the printers with paper is an hourly task.  In such conditions, I peace out and head upstairs to my second study spot.

2. The carrels on the opposite side of the south elevator on the fifth floor.  There are just two, they face a wall, and they are very hard to find.  Seriously, you go around a corner, then around another corner, then around another corner to find this little nook.  There is even a window to gaze out of when I feel stir crazy.  The big problem?  There is no local outlet.

Luckily, I'm a problem solver.  There is an outlet about fifteen feet away, and if one doesn't mind disturbing the tranquility of the fifth floor, you can shove the carrel over to sit by an outlet.

One lovely Tuesday, in an attempt to get into study mode, I went to the fifth floor and started to set up camp.  I started pushing the desk to an outlet when everything went smerfishly awry.

One of the legs of the desk broke.
(In my defense, I'm pretty sure that thing was structurally unsound before I got there!)

So there I was, panickily holding up a desk that was getting heavier by the second, with no idea what to do.  And the longer I stood there, the more hysterically funny the situation got.  Do other people get into these situations?  Seriously.  I was just standing, supporting the desk, trying so hard not to burst into laughter, doing my best to look completely innocent whenever someone came near.

Although the leg was precariously loose and threatening to snap, I managed to wrangle the desk back into a moderately reasonable position against the wall.  As soon as I was convinced it wouldn't fall over, I high tailed it out of there and have since resolved to avoid the fifth floor

I'm still trying to decide if I should a) never speak of this again, b) leave an anonymous note for the library staff about the broken carrel, c) show up in a carpenter's disguise (complete with mustache and toolbelt) and attempt to casually fix the problem on my own, or d) break the other legs (in for a penny, in for a pound).  

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....

we are the BEST home teach-ees.

recently, we were informed that one of our home teachers, tyler, was sick. more specifically, the boys told us "he's really sick. and also, he's dead." so we got to thinking. about once a month, tyler provides us with a great home teaching lesson, followed by like 45 minutes of fantastic guitar playing (sara and i are a little bit creepily obsessed with his mad guitar skills). what if he dies?! scotty, his roommate will have to take over sole home teachingness. which is not entirely a bad thing, because scotty is awesome also. but then we can't creep on his guitar skillz anymore.

and that just won't do.

so sara and i decided that the only way to make him feel better was to assemble a care package. at 11:20, we ran to the creamery and got him some power pills (m&ms, reese's pieces and skittles) and lots of chicken noodle soup.

but obviously no please-stop-dying care kit is complete without a card! we mustered forces with jessie and marina and composed this gem...

a lovely rhyme and heartfelt message on the inside, with pictures of his favorite things on the outside. i guess it worked, because he's still kicking. but for real- are we not the nicest people ever? just click on the picture if you're having a hard time reading our loving note.

are we mother theresa incarnate or what?

if you too want to fall in love with his guitarism, go ahead and smerf on this link:

or this one

Next Olympic Sport

Occasionally, on the very extremely rare chance that we decided to procrastinate our homework, we get creative on ways to entertain ourselves. Seriously, this is good stuff. So good that I believe they should give us our own reality tv show. We'd be international celebrities which would fulfill many other desires of ours...but that is another story. This story tells the tale of how we began mattress rolling.

It all started when Katie drifted into my room. She was tired of doing homework and wanted to be provided with a distraction. She didn't find one as Marina and I were busy working on our own homework. So Katie took to laying on my bed and speaking every off topic thought that came to her head. As Katie likes to live life on the edge, she laid on the very edge of my mattress- her favorite spot. One such thought that came to her mind (and she of course voiced. why deny us the privilege into the extraordinary world of Katie? it's a fascinating place, let me tell you. You wouldn't believe the smerfing that occurs there!) was what would happen if she rolled right off the edge of the bed? I of course responded that she would be injured and probably seriously regret it. She was feeling brave. She began to tip herself off the bed. However, she lost her nerve at the last minute, screaming and righted herself. I felt bad! Katie was not being able to live her dream! Who was I to sit back while her world fell to pieces around her? This injustice could not happen! I had to do something. Call me an angel if you will.

I thought about it for a minute and then asked Marina if she would particularly mind if I borrowed her mattress. Not being one to kill the prospects of a good distraction, she agreed. I maneuvered the mattress until it was right underneath Katie...then I told her to try again. Chaos ensued. See for yourself:

true story.

sometimes i see the year written out and i panic. i think part of my panic is due to the fact that until about six months ago, i genuinely believed the world was going to end this year. so when i see that it's 2012, i have a very small, very immediate smerf attack. what does this mean for us? is it really so far in the future? is iPhone's siri technology going to pull an iRobot and take over the world?!

then i see things like this picture, and i don't necessarily feel better... but i do absolutely feel like a crazy person.

but we all knew that already, right?

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.

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.

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...

Part 1: Surprise Field Trip to Area 51

Traumatic. That is how Katie and I would describe the adventure we had on Wednesday. The term "adventure" is used very loosely. Adventure implied that fun was had. They are usually memories that you can share over tea and crumpets at a reunion with your friends and say “oh remember that time we…” and everyone falls out of their chair laughing. No. This was not one of those times.

It was just another Wednesday, or so we thought. I needed to go to the Bio Lab but somehow Katie convinced me to go to the Pendulum Café with her. It probably wasn’t that hard to be honest; I love food. So we start walking in the direction of the ESC, but we didn't realize until too late, that there is not a door from the direction we had come. Us being our lazy selves, we find the nearest door to enter through instead of walking all the way around. We fool ourselves for a few moments thinking we know exactly where we are. Oh how little we knew. All we could see around us were white walls and closed doors, an occasional set of lockers here and there. The only thing we were thinking was, "oh my gosh...what country are we in and how do we get back to Provo.." Katie literally did question whether we actually were still on campus.

We have absolutely no idea where we are going and how to get out, so we do the natural thing: instead of going back out and going through the familiar door, we start wandering halls, randomly choosing directions. Katie starts to panic. Now you see, when she panics, it doesn't turn into wide-eyes, cowering in a corner, or hyper-ventilating. Katie starts rambling, more so than her normal speech. She says anything and everything that comes into her head and usually it involves some shouting...okay a lot of shouting.* Nearing her breaking point, she stops in the middle of the hall and says "Jessie. Is this a government base? Are we trespassing? IS SOMEONE GOING TO DRAG US INTO AN OPERATING ROOM AND TURN US INTO ALIENS?" I did the normal thing and laughed at her, but I secretly wondered if there was some validity in her statement. It after all is a science center. There is a human cadaver lab on campus, why not alien experimentation? It did match my previously suggested theory of being in Area 51. Finally, I suggested we go upstairs. Katie brushed it off, but then we came across a staircase and she suggested going up.... Oh that's a fantastic idea! Why didn't I think of that...

We emerge to real sunlight and find ourselves at the end of a hallway that'll take us straight to the café. You cannot imagine the relief we felt, especially Katie's as she had stated that she was on the verge of smerfing from exhaustion and lack of food. We raced over, got our lunch and enjoyed a pleasant meal while trying to put the experience behind. We walked out, decided I would find Katie in the library after I was finished with biology. I bid her farewell and walked toward where I believed the lab was. I thought the traumatic events were done for the day. Again, how wrong I was.

Normally, this would be where I would tell you the second part of this story. If you've read our previous blogs, you know we're not normal. I have decided to wait and tell you the second part of this story later. One, this is a very rambling blog and you can only take so much of that before you zone out. Two, it'll give me something else to write when Katie tells me it's time that I write another blog. So despite the fact the second is a selfish reason, the first is for your own good. You're welcome.

*this is katie. i would like to say that it was not shouting. it was raised voices. ladies don't shout.

Our Unofficial Moonlighting

So, as you have recently been informed, our fridge is not a fridge. Because of this problem, we don't use our "fridge" very often. Thus, things we do put in there usually get forgotten and abandoned to die a slow and painful death. This is the case with a half full bottle of Martinelli's Apple Sparkling Cider. It's been there since about the third week of fall semester. It's been about 4+ months. The discovery of it's existence led us to question whether or not it was safe to drink. It had, after all, been sitting, opened and unsealed, in a dark and cool place for many months.

So of course the only logical thing to do is consult google on effective procedures when attempting to ferment Martinelli's Sparkling Cider. Turns out, according to the internet, we have succeeded in making our own alcohol! Screw hoarding secret caffeine, come to our place for something even better that will really get the party smerfing. Or it may perhaps make you really sick and die. We're not really sure. Someone should donate their pet to us for animal testing.* We might even pay you for your time. But probably not. Don't count on it.

*Some side effects your pet may experience once you donate them to the cause may include: headaches, nausea, bloating, confusion, loss of sight in the left eye, abnormal dreams, weight loss, weight gain, decreased sexual desire or ability, diarrhea, dizziness, drowsiness, nervousness, dry mouth, fever, chills, muscle aches, increased sweating, loss of appetite, runny nose, sore throat, weakness, yawning, or sudden death.