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.

Adventures in the Work Force

I have an interesting job. And by interesting, I mean "a job so mindblowingly boring that we'd probably all stick our heads into a lethal looking machine if we didn't come up with ways of entertaining ourselves." So, not interesting at all, really. But I do have interesting coworkers, and therefore interesting stories.

We have a ten(ish) minute break halfway through work every morning. One day, we grabbed some extra wrapping plastic, taped around it a few times, and made a rough looking ball. We proceeded to spend the next ten minutes tossing it between us with increasingly complicated rules. We probably would have forgotten about it by the next day. However, shortly after returning to work, someone attempted to tape up a box of books, and pressed an innocent button on the tape machine. She discovered, to her alarm, that the tape machine did not produce the prescribed length of tape, but instead decided to just keep distributing tape...forever. The rest of us quickly noticed what was going on, and proceeded to press every button within reach in the desperate hope of stopping the tape. Nothing worked until someone finally pulled the plug on the machine. We ended up, therefore, with a length of tape that stretched across almost the entire room, probably about twenty five feet. Our boss was in the room, talking to someone, and conveniently not paying attention to us, so we did the only thing we could. We wrapped the tape around our new ball, quickly and quietly before anyone could notice. And we still have it to this day.

At any moment, one of us might be questioned, in detail, about our love life, or lack thereof. We can be questioned about other things too, and we are, but love life inquiries usually lead to the most interesting stories. Basically, we're desperate for something to talk about most of the time, so we're all fairly familiar with all of the details of each others lives. At any moment, one might also have a coil flung at them from across the room, and turn around to find a room full of completely innocent looking coworkers. It's also good form to check one's back for tape every couple of hours, because it's unlikely that anyone will ever tell you about it.

A couple of weeks ago, we had a competition to see who could give the most awkward hug. It began when someone voiced a disbelief that a hug could be awkward. She was quickly and decisively proven wrong. After competing amongst ourselves, we proceeded to turn our awkward hugs on other, less wary coworkers, who, when asked to report their feelings, indeed responded, "It was awkward."

On Wednesday, it was lots of little things. I was working on putting covers on books before they could be bound, and since I was producing them faster than anyone was taking them, things got a bit ridiculous. After filling every available surface in the room with stacks of books, I started to build a small igloo of books around myself, until I could only be seen from certain angles, and it became increasingly difficult to actually put covers on any books. Meanwhile, a friend of mine was attempting to lift a big pile of books on a palette lifter, which looks something like this:

She wasn't having any luck, and it wasn't until we each took a side, throwing our body weight into it and loudly singing "I've been working on the railroad," that we finally managed to lift it up. Finally, on this same day we put together a care package for a coworker who had recently left on a mission. Actual goods included slightly too old celery, and some pears. We did, however, write a funny note, include a water bottle full of little paper dots from the punching machine, and stuff the box with coils. I'm sure it'll be entertaining, if nothing else.

Some days, my work is weird. And some days, my work is really weird.

someone was trying to tell me i needed more driving practice

11. 11-13.2012----   so I completely on purpose decided to pick the one weekend we had a snow storm to drive down to Las Vegas for a wedding. first time driving in snow...i owned it! i could only see through a small clear spot on the windshield which forced me to lean over and touch cheeks with the passenger, but that's fine. what else are you supposed to do during a long car ride? we won't hydroplane, i said. 40 isn't too fast, i said. apparently it was. we only hydroplaned for a second and my passenger, scott, didn't even notice. driving through a snow storm for 4 hours was just what i wanted to do with my friday afternoon.

2.10.2013---- UPDATE: Now that I have had much more experience driving in snow, ice, and freezing rain, I have decided to start drifting in the snow for fun! It's so fun!.....until you realize that you shouldn't do it near other cars. There's this left turn that I particularly like, but there is a car that's always parked at the corner. Yesterday, I was like yeah!! drifting!!! did it! and then in the middle of it I was like oh shoot I should stop sliding now because I'm headed right now that car. I stopped and all was well. Lesson learned? CHECK! :)

my thought process

Because so many people comment on how they would hate to be on the 3rd floor and have to climb our stairs everyday, I'd like to explain my thought process and why I chose to live on the third floor. It's quite simple actually. If there is a day that I don't have time to / don't want to work out, I still get some gnarly cardio walking up the stairs. I explained that to my friends who came over tonight, but then the very politely reminded me that everyday we walk up to campus we still have to walk up a HUGE set of stairs. Whatever! Fine! So maybe I didn't think it out all the way through when it comes to grocery shopping and moving things, but my butt looks good in my (specific brand) jeans, dangit!!! It's just more exercise for me.

Yours truly,

Leah

Toto, I don't think we're in Utah anymore.

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

just my luck.

I don't know how I get so lucky regarding anything with airports! I have gotten pulled out of line in Honduras to get a bottle of baby powder tested for drugs, I missed my last flight to California from Utah because our gps redirected us to the wrong airport. We know our way to the airport, but for the fun of  it decided we'd use the gps...what a mess. Then I ran into the airport and had to go through security where to my surprise there was conveniently placed a bottle of baby oil in my carry on bag -that I did not put there. Yeah, I was in a lot of tears because that was the last flight to SD until the next day and a particularly hard week with school and everything in life, but the agent I talked to had a heart and she gave a me a free flight to Long Beach. Thank God!!! Oh gosh, then one of my flights out of Salt Lake City was delayed because they had to ice off the plane and when we arrived to my layover in Phoenix, AZ I got off the plane at gate 2 and had to make it to gate 40 in 2 minutes. Thank heavens that I courtesy checked my bag! I ran faster than a poodle on hot coals during mating season, on a leap year. I ran faster than the people who were running on the moving floor! hahah I got to the desk and the guy told me I was too late. They were literally closing the door...they couldn't just let me get in? Oh well, so they put me on the next flight for San Diego for free because it wasn't my fault that I was late. Now, this morning in the Orange County Airport, I went through the metal detector- nothing in my pockets- but because there is like little rhinestones on my pants, they had to pad me down everywhere and then swab my hands for traces of drugs. I was clean of course, but a bit worried because I hung out with a few of my crazy friends last night and who knows what could have smerfed off onto my hands. There I was waiting for my bags that are going through the x-ray and of course I had a bottle of beach sand that I scraped my knees up to get, and now they have to preform a drug test on that. It was just sand, but I was a little worried with that too because it's the beach, you know? It could have anything. Thank goodness that that sand was from Carlsbad and not Oceanside! hahah   I have a dream that one day I won't have any problems in the airport.

Big News!!

This just in!!  Katie may not be completely crazy after all!! Remember this?  Yeah, the tricolor antelope with night vision?  We know where that stemmed from.  Although, to be fair, we don't know where the tricolor thing came from.  Please, sit back, and enjoy.

Happy Anniversary!

Today is the one year anniversary of our first blog post.  In addition, it is also our 100th post on the blog!

Where were we one year ago?  Same ridiculous behavior, different place.

Finals Week Craft Winter 2011

Finals Week Shenanigans

Finals Week Movie Night

Finals week this year looks a little something like this:

We have couches now.  Sometimes we push them together and call it a couch boat. 

Not much has changed, except for where and with whom we spend our time.  It's been a crazy year and a fun ride.  I was supposed to write this post because I wrote the first one last year, but I'm panicking under the pressure to write something emotional and clever and touching and funny, and I honestly can't think of anything other than the lyrics to a Ke$ha song right now.  So I'm just going to publish this and call it good.  It's been real.  Real what?  Only time will tell.

Marina can read my mind better than I can. I'm not sure if I should be worried or not. Probably.

So, there's something you need to know about me:  I think in colors and pictures.  This makes for some odd conversations sometimes.  Such as, when I was trying to describe a guy in our ward to one of my roommates, and the only way I could think of to distinguish him was, "he just exudes the color red.  All the time.  He just has a very maroon feel to him."  Believe it or not, this statement was met with several concerns about my sanity level, and they still didn't know who I was trying to describe.  Yeah....words is hard, guys.  :/

So, once upon a time, Marina played a song she liked while we were both in our room.

*skip forward about a month*

Me: Marina, what was that one song you played that one time?

Marina: uh.... Can you think of the tune or any of the lyrics or the main message of the song or what it was about?

Me: Nope.

But after thinking for a while, I was able to come up with three hints.  1) It was sung by a woman.  2) It may or may not contain the words "dog" and "mom."  3) It reminds me of the color yellow.

Really, the third hint made no sense to anyone but me (weird, I know), and no, I was not thinking of the song "Yellow" by Coldplay.  Or "Nothin' but a Hound Dog" or "Bohemian Rhapsody." The second hint was unsure.  I didn't actually know if the song contained those words.  So really, the first hint was the only one that was even somewhat helpful.
 
So we did the only rational thing: we played every song Marina had played on itunes from the last 3 months that was sung by a woman.  Surprisingly, this only took a few hours.  I didn't immediately recognize any of them as "The Song," but we found one that I thought might maybe sorta kinda was it. Emphasis on the maybe.

*skip forward a week or two*

I was playing the "Maybe Song" with Marina around.  She commented on what a shame it was that we didn't know for sure what "The Song" was.  That would have been the coolest detective moment ever.  Like on Psych, when they figure out the crime with almost no evidence.  Except, we literally had no evidence.  So cooler than Psych, if that's even possible.  We might even have to crack open a celebratory pineapple if we ever figured it out.

Since we had played every song she had on itunes, she mentioned offhandedly that it might have been a song she had just randomly played off of youtube or something.

"GASP!!" *Marina runs out of the room with an excited scurry*

She comes back and plays this song, which, by the way, is "THE SONG."

It's sung by a woman, and it totally has the words "dog" and "mother" in it!  :D

The moral of the story is, don't even think about thinking something you wouldn't want Marina to think you're thinking.  I think.  Or, the moral of the story is, if you ever have a thought, but aren't sure what that thought is, ask Marina.  She'll take your crazy hints and make sense of them.  Even if the hints make no sense at all.  We still don't know what's up with the color yellow.  Come on, reader.  Doesn't this song just bleed yellow to you?  No?  ....oh.  :(

Hot feet. The opposite of cold feet.

Marina's family is full of good people.  They think of her often.  Many times, they randomly send her money.  Other times, they randomly send her other things.  Like entire sets of dishes--plates, saucers, more different large plates, and bowls.  Oh, and teacups.  What dish set would be complete without 10 teacups?  None, I tell you!  Although Marina was graciously accepting of the two ton gift, a small problem arose.  And by small, I mean, you know.  Not so small.  We have a little less than 0 space in our kitchen cupboards (plus, come on Marina's family.  If we didn't already have dishes by now, we would have been eating like cavemen for months.  Cut us some slack.  We only did that for a few weeks).  Where were we going to put the mass amounts of dishes that had fallen into our possession?  Who knows?

But if you know us, you know that we are innovative human beings.  We found a small space on the shelf above our cupboards where we could stack all the dishes.  So we began.  The shelf, as I mentioned, is above the cupboards.  Aka, it's high.  And we are not at all high.  In height or drugs.  Which is unfortunate.  So in order to get the dishes up there, I climbed barefoot onto the counter and stood on the stove while Marina handed me the many dishes that were soon to call that shelf home.

All was going well, and we were very proud of ourselves for being so brilliant.  *Enter Tim, our FHE dad.*  We obviously don't go to FHE enough, or he would know to expect sights like this from us.  Let's be honest, standing on the stove is not the weirdest thing any of us has done.  Or the most dangerous.  One time Katie set a piece of paper on fire and then proceeded to carry it directly to the trashcan, which happened to be full of flammable materials.  Good thing the rest of us were able to put that fire out before it started, or we might have had an amazing blog post plus a less amazing law suit.  But I digress.

Tim began to stare up at us, with a mix of sheer amazement and concern.  He offered us a step stool in an effort to get me off the stove, but we were content and politely declined.  We continued using our amazing assembly line skills, until I heard Tim say, "Is the stove on?"

Without turning to face him, I looked at Marina and said, "Yeah, could you turn that off now?  It's getting kind of uncomfortable."  Tim's face was priceless.

I think I'm only good at thinking of one-liners when I'm being judgmental.  Keep that in mind.  If I'm ever able to think of a funny one-liner right when it's needed, you're being judged.  Or I'm just extraordinarily witty that day.  You decide.  Do what your heart tells you.

"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.

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.

Because we just can't do anything the normal way.

There are lots of quirks to living in an apartment. One of the most classic of these is having disruptive neighbors. Plenty of people have resorted to banging on the ceiling with a broomstick to get their above-neighbors to stop stomping around. We actually witnessed this in our neighbors' apartment today when we went Visiting Teaching. We of course, don't have this problem. That would be much too mainstream. We did, however, go to visit our upstairs neighbors today.

Another trial of apartment living is lots of things that only sort of work. One example of this is the ceiling light in Sara and my bedroom. There are three light bulbs in it, and the number of lights that actually work tend to rotate. At first we thought it was just random, but finally, we figured out the pattern. Our light bulbs tended to flicker on when our upstairs neighbors walk right above it. We can actually hear the footsteps, immediately followed by magically more light.

Usually, this isn't much of a problem, and we tend to have at least two of the light bulbs shining, making the lighting level fairly tolerable. However. today, we had been going on twenty-four hours with only one working light, and it was getting depressing. So, finally, we decided to take matters into our own hands.

Not half an hour after witnessing our regular neighbors' struggle with their overly loud upstairs neighbors, we set out on our quest. Despite having no idea who it was that lived above us, we located their apartment, knocked on the door, and asked if they would do us a really weird favor. Their first assumption was that we were going to ask them to stop walking on the floor above our room, but that wasn't it at all. To looks of increasing astonishment, we explained our situation, and asked that they please stomp really hard on the floor above our ceiling light. They seemed skeptical of this plan, but we quickly called Katie and asked her to report our progress. Just as they began to believe that this couldn't possibly work, Katie announced a flicker. "HARDER!" we admonished. Soon there was more than one girl literally jumping up and down on the floor just above our bedroom. Katie began to be alarmed by the noise. But finally, to our relief, another light bulb flicked on. We shouted out our victory, graciously thanked our still slightly bewildered neighbors, and continued on our way. They did, however, tell us to let them know if we ever had problems again.

I'm pretty sure there's a lesson in here somewhere. Maybe it's "Know Your Neighbor" or maybe it's "Your life will be funnier if you ask your neighbors to be more disruptive than they currently are." Or maybe it's "Take a closer look into the apartment appliances before you sign a contract." You be the judge.

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.

Work- It's dangerous.

I suppose that people who are employed in a typically dangerous line of work might come home with things like "shark-bites" or "infectious diseases." I'm sure that's very traumatizing for them and whatnot, but hey, at least they get a good story out of it. Provided that they survive the experience, I suppose. I, on the other hand, am routinely injured at work in what is possibly both the most painful and the most unexciting way imaginable. I get papercuts. ALL the time. And while, usually, I think I average about one or two a week, I think I was assaulted by paper twelve times today at least.

Sometimes, I branch out a little into the realms of "cardboard cuts" or "plastic cuts," which are, believe it or not, worse. It's not unusual, at work, for someone to cry out in pain, and leave their machine to go get a band-aid out of the first aid kit. In fact, several months ago we ran out of band-aids, and I don't think they've been restocked yet. Today, I stopped an entire assembly line (I have a magical work stopping button) when I began to bleed profusely.

Let this be a lesson to you, kids. Don't work. Or, at least, choose a line of work where you can at least be hurt in an interesting way, and garner the proper sympathy.

Matt Is the Best.

I have all sorts of problems with my computer.  I'm pro at picking up viruses and malware. It's probably all of those "You're the 1,000,000,000th Visitor" notices I keep clicking on.  The flashing banners get me every time, darn them.  Since my fields of specialty don't extend past Facebook stalking, hoarding candy corn, and making a fool of myself in public, I leave technology to technology people.

Enter my friend Matt.  I took my computer to his apartment last week and left it there with a vague "something is wrong, please fix it."  I picked it up a few hours later with high hopes.  Matt said he cleaned several viruses off and handed it over.

When I got home, I realized what he really spent three hours doing.  Messing with my settings.

I thought I was crazy at first, because computers don't talk.  Well now mine does.  Every time I turn it on, off, open a new window, open a new tab, click a link, etc., my computer reminds me that I shouldn't trust Matt with my computer every again.  It alerts me to system changes with a kindly "Matt is the best."

Sometimes, if I leave my computer alone for a while, it reminds me anyway.  Just to keep me on my toes.  It might be the best thing that's happened to my computer, and I kind of lovehate it.  For now, anyway.

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.

The awkward trials of being accidentally funny

Apparently, I said something funny a few days ago.  Katie swears by it.  But she can't remember what it was.  However, even though none of us can remember me being funny, I have been pressured into remembering it and then writing a blog post about it.  It's possibly the most stressful thing I've ever been through.  I try to dig through my memory for something funny I might have said 3.6 days ago, but I just can't recall it.  Every once and a while I'll say something that I think might be it, but then I look at Katie and she makes no response, or worse, gives a pity laugh.  I'm patronized by the idea that I might have said something amusing that might have changed my entire life for the better and perhaps could have made me money and fame and gotten me several boyfriends, but I just can't remember it.  Also, apparently that one sentence (thought, word, idea?) that I sputtered out 3.6 days ago used up all my funny.  Sorry guys.  I can only be funny when I'm about to go into a memory lapse, apparently.  And that memory lapse also affects my roommates.

Maybe that funny phrase was actually a magic spell, and it makes whomever hears it forget what I said.  Pretty useless, admittedly, unless your goal is to make several people crazy trying to figure out what it is that I said, including myself.  I'm pretty sure if I figure out how to harness this superpower, I could be president of the world.  Or something.  Because I could say something stupid that would make people stop voting for me, but then they would just forget what I said and just remember that I was funny.  Success.  I'm gonna have to practice this.

...

What kind of bear has no teeth?

A gummy bear!

....Yeah, I don't think that was it.  *sigh*