what not to do in the grocery store

there I was, happy as can be. grocery shopping. FOOD. you know when you're with your friends, nothing that would normally "embarrass" you really matters? well this time it did. tired of the same old toast and jam, one of my best friends, rachel, and i decided that enough was enough and that we needed actual food. we went to the local "smith's" grocery store to get all the essentials: greek yogurt, lettuce, and dark chocolate almond milk. we were in the vegetable isle when rachel told me she was going to get her bread. i was like, "ok! i'm staying right here and NOT MOVING!" not even 5 seconds later, i was like "hmm i need celery", so i took the cart and started running towards the celery while leaning on the cart. suddenly, i felt a sensation i had never felt before. i thought i was flying. the excitement died immediately when i realized what was happening. i leaned too far on the empty cart and it was tipping over and taking me down with it. all of the sudden, i found myself on my knees with the cart flipped up and pointing to the ceiling. i was in complete shock about what just happened, looked around, and i literally rolled myself into a circle of about 12 people who were all silently staring at me as i kneeled on the ground with a hypnotized look on my face. a woman quickly rushed to help me up and pick up my cart. she asked me if i was alright, but all i remember is saying "thank you so much" with glazed over eyes. i couldn't believe that rachel didn't see that. i was so embarrassed. i wanted to crawl into a pit and cry. she came back with her bread, confused at why everyone was staring at me and whispering. i explained what had just taken place and just like i would have been, she was surprised that that all happened in about a minute. if she was there, i wouldn't have felt as bad. it's official, never let your friend leave your side. not even for a minute because this can happen to you...if you're like me and get yourself into these situations seriously 4 times a day on average. 2 if i'm lucky, but let's get real here. i'm not.

My Growing Mind Control Powers

I don't know if any of you knew this about me, but I'm actually a superhero. Or something. I always suspected that I was psychic, but only recently have I begun to discover the true extent of my powers. I, it turns out, have the ability to magically implant the song of my choosing into the head of anyone around me (or at least all of my roommates). Additionally, by pure psychic prowess, I convinced about a third of my self-defense class to do jazz hands every time an annoying alarm went off. (It went off approximately every fifteen seconds, for like twenty minutes.) My song-implanting powers are especially potent when used on Sara, and are truly devastating when applied to the song "Some Nights" by Fun. In fact, I've advanced to the point where I don't have to play it or sing it at all. I just have to look at her the right way. I'm still working on how I can use this ability to completely take over her mind and force her to do my bidding, but if you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them.

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....

I Love My Mom.

Really, I do.  My momma is pretty great.  When she's not teaching high schoolers, baking pies, or feeding the homeless, she's giving me dating advice.

Through Facebook.

girls are gross

Don't be alarmed, I live in a new, nice, and clean apartment now. I guess i never uploaded this one...

i will admit to being pretty nasty once and a while, but i am completely serious when i say that the girls that lived in our apartment before us were really nasty. as mentioned in an earlier post, the carpet looked like a ja-poo-zi overflowed on it, there were hand prints on the ceiling... just use your imagination with the rest. i mean really. it was like they weren't girls, and they were actually crippled grizzly bears with machine guns as arms and octopus tentacles trying to cook stir fry, while babysitting a legion of toddlers that were all trying to make themselves peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, while standing on their heads, and playing the popular board game, "Monopoly".

 there were hand prints and random smudges all over the walls, doors... the ceiling... i honestly think that one of the girls was eating a pizza and the other was putting on her foundation and they ran out of napkins and towels and were like, *said in a valley girl lisp* "i have an idea! let's just wipe our hands on the walls and ceiling! that'll work just as good, if not better." and they proceeded to do it.  today, i decided that i would be a nice roommate to rachel and vacuum her room since she's been saying that she needs to do that, so i did. it looked fine, but not up to my standards. the carpet had clearly not been edged in a LONG time. to my dismay, i found that we do not own an edger. i thought about going to the dorms and just borrowing their's for the evening, but i just wasn't vibing it. instead, i got on my hands and knees and used my hands to edge. oh. my. gosh. i edged the whole room because i got a little ocd about it and ended up with a dust bunny larger than my fist! ewww. i was in such a "spring cleaning" mood that i edged the hallway and my room as well, since i don't want my allergies to pay me a visit like they usually do around this time of the year. the bunny got significantly bigger. i contemplated going to the trash can and taking a picture of it, but i tied up the bag that it was in. just know that it was the size of a real bunny. bigger than this one.

i might have also gotten a little carried away and cleaned the hair out of her carpet. the discovery i made was priceless. (i found 2 pennies and an earring! but that's not what i'm talking about.) i immediately related it to what we learned in our old physical science class that i actually enjoyed very much. the law of superposition. i began to smerf the carpet with my hands and found that i could pull up the hair. the top layer was all light blonde, rachel's. the harder i brushed, i got deeper and pulled some light brown hair. it must have been the girl before rachel. finally i brushed even harder and pulled up dark brown hairs, the girl twice before rachel. it was pretty gross, but quite interesting at the same time. instead of looking like layers of different colored sedimentary rock, it was layers of different colored hair.
after countless clorox wipes and many hard worked hours, liters of sweat and 3 t-shirt changes, the apartment is starting to look great! i must admit that i am happy with how it's coming. people, when you move, please leave your apartment clean. PLEASE.

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.

Random Pics for Y'all

Drunken Escapades, Pt. 2

A few days later, the drunk girl called me. I had to call her phone to find it, so presumably she misdialed off the incoming call list. I got a call from a number I didn't recognize and answered, with hopes that it was a job calling to hire me.

Me: "Hello?"
Drunk girl (clearly drunk again): "...it was Travis.  I... I paid my [expletive] bills!"
Me: Confused silence
Drunk girl: "I had so many [expletive] bills!  There was the [expletive] DirecTV bill and I [expletive] paid it."
Me: Awkward silence
Drunk girl: "So... so don't [expletive] worry!"

Then the call ended.  What have I done?  Does this mean I can add drunken confidant(e?) to my resume?  Cause I think that would be kickin'.  Maybe I would have finally been hired to the job at a bakery downtown I really wanted to work at.  Does drunken confidant(e) not add a little spice to a resume?  Tell me I'm wrong if I'm wrong, but I think this will really help me in the professional world.

The moral of the story is that I am never going to do nice things for anyone, ever again.

How my self-defense training almost came in handy really prematurely. Sort of. Work with me here.

Once upon a time, typically referred to as my freshman year, I worked selling concessions at BYU football games. This was fairly successful, definitely the most fun job I've ever had, so I figured I would do it again this year. And so I am. Apart from the fact that I became a class ditcher before school even really started, this went off without a snag. So I show up at the game, receive my fancy official hat and apron, and go to check in. The man asks me if I'm a cash handler. I figure, I work the cash register, therefore I handle cash. Right? Right. So I tell him yes, in a slightly unsure, questioning manner. He checks the list, and confirms, yes I am. So then, without warning, he points out my station on the map, and then tells me to head to the police station/ office thingy to pick up the money. I give him a blank, slightly panicked look. He sends me on my merry way.

So, lugging my enormous backpack, (I didn't have time to go home after class) with a million things in my pockets, clutching my apron and hat, and holding my paper map in front of me like a sad, sad tourist, I amble off in the general direction I was pointed. I actually found it without much difficulty, though I did have to walk through several rooms full of cops and security people. I reach the office, and tell them that I need money, apparently. They are unable to find me on their list, but they give me the money anyway. Make of that what you will. By this point I'd figured out that I was almost certainly not really a cash handler, but they'd already given me official forms and stuff at the front, so I figured it was probably too late to do anything about it. So they pack me up with 900 dollars worth of change and stuff for my station, and I move on to the next leg of my journey. You would think that the hard part would not be over. You would be wrong.

After ten or fifteen minutes of wandering around attempting to follow my map, I concluded that I was almost definitely lost. And I was lost with 900 dollars of possibly slightly stolen money, which made it both funnier and a lot more panic inducing. I started asking various stations if they knew where I was going. Some admitted that they had no clue, others pointed me in a general direction. Several of these instructions conflicted. It took probably another ten minutes before I finally reached the stand I was supposed to be working at. I then happily handed over my pouch of money and moved on to more important matters. Like counting churros, and stuff. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I have finally sorted out my priorities.