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.

"Make Everyone Twins."

You know how some people write down thoughts they have in the night, so as to not lose what might possibly be a great idea or dream?  I write down thoughts I have in the day, forget about them, then find them months later and am entirely baffled.

"Tricolor antelope with night vision."
"And it's stretchy, so I'll never have to buy a new one!"
"3 Thurs u"

What do these mean?  How do we know that antelopes have night vision?  Is there a party Thursday at 3 that I'm going to miss?  Serious stuff.  I am increasingly giving up on the hope that one day my mind will make sense and I won't confuse myself.  The older I get, the less likely that seems.

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.

texts to a stranger.

every sunday and wednesday nights in our hall, we have visiting hours. for two hours, twice a week, boys are allowed in girl halls and vice versa. i have a guitar class during the wednesday visiting hours, so i come back from class once a week right as the boys are asked to leave. this particular wednesday, we were left with this gem on our hall mirror:

i'm always down for a good thyme. especially when i don't have to worry about the repercussions of making a fool out of myself.

after some brief inquiry, i found out it was a boy's number- he was visiting one of our hallmates and left his number behind as a joke. a few girls in the hall had already called, but he didn't ever answer.

so i texted him. and our conversation went a little something like this:

me: hey. i'm looking for some oregano. can you hook a girl up?

stranger: Oregano huh. Depends who and where this girl is.

me: look i'm just a girl from pocatello, idaho who loves her herbs.* and you come highly recommended.

stranger: I think people misunderstood my message. Thyme was just how we decided to spell time. I don't have special herbs.

me: what?! i was really hoping to impress my fhe group with my famous oregano spaghetti sauce!

stranger: I'm terrible sorry to disappoint you and to have deceived you.

me: no, its cool. i get it, there you were, taking artistic license with the phrase "looking for a good time" and here i am, hoping for some high carb deliciousness. whelp if ever you're in town, you bring the oregano, i'll bring the pasta, and we can party like it's 1994.

me: or if you're more suited to basil or frankincense, i don't actually know what oregano is. just bring party hats and we'll call it good.

we continued to text a bit longer. turns out we both love reading, and share the same favorite books- twinners! the conversation died off a little after that, and i haven't heard from him since, but i'm still waiting for our party. i told him we should meet at chuck-e-cheese, as i'm pretty sure they provide party hats there. but this whole debacle was three weeks ago, and i'm so sure i'll never hear from him again, i'm practically deodorant. in the case of a mad part-ay, everyone is absolutely invited! hope to smerf you there!

*i was hesitant to say herbs- i didn't want to imply that i was looking for pot, and i think that's what he interpreted. although if i'm being real here (which i usually am), he could've maybe actually given me pot, told me it was oregano, and i wouldn't have known. "famous" spaghetti sauce, indeed.

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.

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.

The Dumb Man's Guide to Dinner Dates

There's a youtube video that's been getting a lot of attention lately. It attempts to answer the question, "Can Men and Women Be Just Friends?" Ultimately, the students at USU came to a negative conclusion. To this I say, really? Guys, is it really that hard to just be friends? I would have supported men, defended the position that they are not just flirtatious beasts out on the prowl, looking for some innocent prey to attack, but lately I've seen strong evidence suggesting USU was right.

Exhibit A: There was a guy who was one of my good friends. I liked hanging out with him, and eventually I even started to have a little bit of a crush on him.

Then he went crazy.

He called me 8 times within the course of one hour. 8 times! And all he wanted to do was ask me if I wanted to have dinner with him. So, to all the men out there, here's the break down. To ask a girl to dinner, calling 1 or 2 times is sufficient. She'll see that you called and that you wanted to make plans. Even 3 times is acceptable if there's not much time before you need a reply. However, anything more than 3 tells the girl, "Help! Answer the phone! I'm dying, call an ambulance!!" Knowing this, imagine what I thought when I saw that I had 8 missed calls! Needless to say, I answered call number 9 (I didn't have to wait long, either), expecting a catastrophe. Upon finding out that dinner plans were the only thing crushing his skull, all I could think about was how much I wanted to smack him in the (insert body part of choice here).

In closing: Men, be careful when being persistent. A little goes a long way. Always remember that the twin brother of persistence is creepy, and no girl ever wants to meet him.

Happy hunting!
-Sara