The Men Won't Be Able To Get Their Hands Off... Our Hands?

Real life conversation between Sara and myself.  Real life stuff happening right here.

I'm not entirely sure, but this might be the reason we're single.  Because we don't yet have handerpants.  And in case you're wondering, here's some information on how you can order six pairs for yourself:

I think my favorite part is the tagline: "your hands never need to go commando again!"

Quietly Disruptive Saints

Sometimes, we aren't the most engaged people in Sunday School.  We fall asleep, we play games on our kindles, we doodle and write various notes to each other.  But at least we find ways to entertain ourselves without disrupting others, right?  It's the thought that counts....  Ok, not my best excuse, just roll with it.  Today, Katie and Marina and I wrote a story together to keep us awake.  We each wrote one word and then passed it the the next person.  I started with "Dear," and then Marina went, and then Katie.  I tell you this so if you see a particularly strange or concerning word, you can use your math and pattern skills to determine which of us is the culprit.  Or, you know, not.  That would be an incredible waste of your time.  Go make us some cupcakes instead.


Dear Prudence,

Don't forget about th'Alamo!  Everyone will kill small indigenous Irish elephants, unless Batdog viciously intervenes.  Should the battle prove lasting, gather all bears.  They always attack enemies, hurling hula hoops toward medium sweaters, bursting bubbles, and cinderblocks.  Luckily, bears are very susceptible to brainwashing.  Unluckily, they tend to have short-term attention spans.  It seems that you only benefit if you curl Elizabeth's limbs.  Weird.  Though dolphins inevitably revolt, bears are essentially victims of the dolphins.  Grotesque conspiracies arise due to widespread elephantitis.  Sick specimens are transported due to contaminated blood.  Avoid drinking unbleached blood.  It causes telekinesis, but also leprosy.  When hallucinations end, grab your compass.  North is bad.  Run East, but only if bears limp with elephantitis.  The sunrise signals safety.  Roll left if moss grows under walrus graves.  Roll backwards determinedly.  Don't jump diagonally, else incite the wrath of superhuman children.  They smell like rotten rutabagas and mushrooms, beating acidic pulp into orange sippy-cups.  Obviously bears enjoy pulp-free OJ, thus superhuman children torture them with forced pulpy OJ.  Luckily children aren't able to escape if there are cookies.  Trapping them is simple, especially when oreo's are available.  Remember to remember the Alamo.

Love,
The Hunchbacks.

We Have That Kind of Friendship.

I'm sitting here, trying to explain a schedule to Sara.  She's a little confused, so I reword it a little (probably making it more complicated... that's how I do.) and try to explain it again.  She stares at me and says "Oh, okay." And goes back to her computer

A minute later, she looks up again and says "I don't really get it.  The 'oh' was for sympathy."

Yeah, we're in college.

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.

i'm too tired to title this.

if you know us or follow our blog, you might be familiar with the urine bottle debacle. now this is a little outdated, but we all assume someone else will blog about group experiences and then no one actually does it for weeks. so this post is the continuance of our prank war shenanigans.

when i left off, leah had messed around with our room, and it was our turn for revenge.

saturday night following the long weekend incident, we took Jorge to the creamery where i purchased 216 plastic cups. leah likes to stay up late watching animal videos on youtube and italian movies on netflix, so we decided to wait until the following morning to really smerf her.

keep in mind that we have church at 1:30, so we are accustomed to sleeping until noon on sundays. the sacrifices we make... we woke up at nine in the morning to mess with leah. the plan was to stack plastic cups on top of each other in her doorway in such a manner that she would be rendered unable to leave the room.

to make sure she wouldn't just godzilla her way out and rampantly rip the whole thing down, every other layer of cups had water in them. it took us about 40 minutes and like 150 cups to create this masterpiece:

nearly six feet of glorious shenanigans.

and here is her very tired reaction:

Festival of Colors: Not a Myth (Probably)

This weekend, Katie, Jessie, and I decided to attend the Festival of Colors, or Holi. For those of you not aware, this is a Hindu festival celebrating the beginning of spring (by throwing colorful chalk everywhere)...filled mostly with Mormons. Because everyone likes a good festival. Our adventure began right away, as getting to Spanish Fork, Utah turned out to be a lot harder than you'd think. (Incidentally, what makes the fork Spanish?) Our first thought was to take the bus. We duly trotted out to the front of the Wilkinson center, where the bus was due to arrive every hour. However, at about 4:02, we began to get nervous. Were we in the right place? Suddenly spotting a bus on the other side of the building, we sprinted over, leaping flowers and small children alike, only to discover that the bus was not free, and it was cheaper to drive after all.

When we finally arrived in the generally right area, we discovered that the event itself was difficult to find. We quickly resorted to following cars in which the passengers appeared to be wearing white (most attendees of the festival wore white). This went about as well as you'd expect it to. When we had just about given hope, we discovered a steady stream of people in white shirts heading in one direction, and people covered in chalk heading in the other. Excitedly, we parked the car and began to follow the masses of people.

Our enthusiasm could not be dampened by the many people who chose to throw chalk at us before we had reached the festival. In fact, we kind of enjoyed it. However, after we had been walking for quite a while, we began to doubt ourselves. Blisters started to form, time continued to pass, and there was still no festival in sight. When we asked a passing stranger how much farther we had to walk, he merely responded, "far as flip" (edited). Sounds scientific. We soon formed a theory. There was no Festival of Colors. The entire event consisted of people pelting us with chalk as we passed on the sidewalk. Just as we reached the approximately two mile mark, and began to seriously consider demanding that someone come and pick us up, the festival came into sight.
And that's why you should always wear comfortable shoes.

Before

Upon Arrival

After

The Rules

Several months ago we decided that, just to simplify things, the four of us would only hate people as a group. And it really did make things easier for a while. Every once in a while, one of us would just announce, oh by the way, we hate _____ now. And so we would. It's almost always a man. Make of that what you will. It never lasted very long though; we just don't have the commitment for long-term hatred.

Yesterday, though, things got complicated. It all started when Katie and Jessie asked Sara and I to save them seats in church. We did, but they were stolen a couple of minutes later. This evidently ended our friendship. And since they hated us, we soon realized that WE were obliged to hate us. We wallowed in self-loathing for a couple of hours before we were forgiven. But it got worse. Evidently, during our brief seperation, Katie and Jessie began planning for the Civil War. They started recruiting boys for their team. When they had recruited Alex, and Michael supported us, we suddenly realized that we all hated both of them. So, naturally, we spent the rest of the afternoon asking people which side they would support. No matter what they said, we responded, "Good. We hate you now." Many people were confused. There was no correct response. Except for what Asa sent, which consisted of just this picture:

There's no way to argue with that.

Crazy One-Liners We Use to See Who is Listening

Sometimes we wonder if anyone's really paying attention when we're rambling. That would be embarrassing.... So we've come up with a solution to find out. Randomly include these crazy one-liners in normal conversation and see who catches the weirdness. Enjoy.

-I made out with him so passionately, I think I might be pregnant
-We had to dig a hole to hide the evidence.
-Then he told me I should probably go see the bishop, because that's just inappropriate.
-I ran away screaming.
-And there I was.... Handcuffed to a chicken...
-All my problems would be solved if I just had a life sized chicken suit!
-But I was like, "Wait, don't go in there! That's where the clowns live!"
-Your daddy must have been a baker. Cuz you've got a nice apron collection.

-Once I ate a smurf. It tasted like arctic hen.
-I just can't sleep ever since the monkey stole my parents
-One time I wandered into the produce section of the grocery store, and ended up in Narnia for 3 hours. I came back and realized, Mom was right! I shouldn't take candy from strangers!
-I saw a cat today, and realized I was really hungry for some tacos.
-And then I was like, "No, you can't take my baby!"
-My mom still tells me what to do. Sometimes she calls me and reminds me not to eat things out of the garbage.
-Last year, I had an affair with the couch. I haven't looked at pizza the same way since.

And there it is folks. The product of our very bored minds. Make of it what you will.

we ♥ summer.

today is a beautiful day. it's snowed probably four or five times in the last week. generally, it's been depressingly cold. so cold in fact, that i actually wore pants under my pants twice last week. but today is different. it's sunny. it's breezy. it's warm. and when it gets warm, great things happen....

...the track kids emerge from hibernation...

because who needs real men when you can take hyper-zoom pictures of shirtless strangers and then use the computer to zoom in further and check out their ab muscles? not us. we don't do that. we just shout things at them. after all, why not abuse the excellent view we have of the track? we're nothing if not opportunists.

it was so nice that even we were outside for a while, studying. and by studying, i mean meditating. and by meditating, i mean napping. and by we, i mean me. jessie and sara might have been legitimately doing things... but i was too busy smerfing the warm sunshine behind closed eyelids. anyway, enjoy this collaborative shot of people enjoying the beautiful warm weather. because here, it never lasts long.

As Long as it's 3,000 words...

I told Katie that she either needed to put me out of my misery or come write my paper for me.

She sent me:

APaperForMarinaYouAreVeryWelcomeHereIsYourA

Marina Haddock

Professor Something

Mythology 101

13 February 2012

Mythology is a Perversion of Decency

Everyone is familiar with the classic Greek myths. The tales of Greek heroes and gods are shared in early school years, and later analyzed in high school and college. It is easy to be blinded by the popularity of the highly dramatized Greek legends and overlook the disturbing themes underlying our favorite tales. Nearly every Greek myth bears at least a slight mentioning of incest, rape, or unicorn beating. This problematic pattern allows readers to ponder the real meanings behind the classic Greek favorites, and to explore the possibility that the Greeks aren’t as “cultured” as we have believed for centuries. In fact, is it possible that the Greeks are just greedy unicorn users and abusers as well as dirty, dirty pedophiles? Could it be that all the celestial Greek inbreeding is the REAL leading cause of puppy deaths today? Indeed, recent scientific discoveries and preliminary tests are the beginning of what will be a long, thorough investigation into the Greek psyche and internal reasoning.

I sent her: The paper is for my philosophy class. But thanks. I'm probably putting this on the blog.

However, I am still working on the paper, and I hate it so much that I'm seriously considering throwing this in on the end. I don't think anyone will notice, do you?

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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

if he could've, i think he would've run away. screaming.

i had an encounter with one of the new boys in our ward yesterday. his name is britton (i think... he didn't stick around long enough for me to double check) and he is in the same physical science class as jessie and i. jessie, social butterfly that she is, invited him to sit with us, and then walk back to the dorm with us afterward.

it just so happens that i get a little tongue tied around new people sometimes, and i say all the wrong things. it also just so happens that i have been a bundle of nerves lately as i consider my various potential classes/futures. i've been really stressed the last few days about making sure i'm in good classes this semester that i'm more socially inept than usual.

with that in mind, consider what this poor new kid must be thinking as he walks down freshman hill with jessie and myself as i start rambling about my mid-year crisis and how conflicted i've been feeling. then jessie, trying to comfort me, mentions my mini-breakdown/cry fest the night before, and that's it. we've completely lost him.

i wish i could've told him i'm not normally so smerfing chaotic, but if i'm being honest... i'm a big basket of crazy. i saw him later that night and apologized while explaining that i usually dole out the crazy in little bits until people are used to me. but i don't think he understood.

tragic, really.