Food for thought:
The holiday season is Thanksgiving to New Years.
But really, the way we eat, the holiday season is from Halloween to Valentine's Day.
And if we're at Valentine's Day we're almost at Easter.
And if we're at Easter we're practically at the Fourth of July.
So that would make holiday season all year.
Calories don't count during the holidays.
Does this mean calories don't count all year?
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
O.P.T.I.M.I.S.M.
Right now, January 5, 2009, 7:58 a.m. MST, it is 9 degrees outside. NINE. However, the meteorologists tell me it feels like negative 2 degrees. NEGATIVE TWO.
So in an effort to forget that my ears are purple, here are five good things about the cold:
1. Outfit repeating becomes socially acceptable. Or at least less identifiable.
2. I get to discover secret passages that are “warmer longer” and take me through the scary chemistry filled hallways of the Benson building where everyone wears giant goggles and sniffs test tubes.
3. My abnormally slow walking speed has increased tenfold so now I’m at the pace of a regular person.
4. This icicle:
5. There’s ALWAYS something to talk about. (coldness=camaraderie)
a. “Hi, I don’t know you but aren’t you freezing?”
b. “Hi, we’ve reached an awkward part of our conversation, and I don’t really know what else to say so . . . gosh it’s cold isn’t it??”
c. “Hi, I do know you, and even though I’ve belabored the point, I would really like you to understand that I’d probably be warmer if you locked me in the refrigerator.”
This is Sylvia Plath:
She wrote The Bell Jar.
She also stuck her head in the oven to kill herself.
“Do you think that maybe Sylvia Plath wasn’t crazy . . . she was just cold?”
-Lorelei Gilmore
So in an effort to forget that my ears are purple, here are five good things about the cold:
1. Outfit repeating becomes socially acceptable. Or at least less identifiable.
2. I get to discover secret passages that are “warmer longer” and take me through the scary chemistry filled hallways of the Benson building where everyone wears giant goggles and sniffs test tubes.
3. My abnormally slow walking speed has increased tenfold so now I’m at the pace of a regular person.
4. This icicle:
5. There’s ALWAYS something to talk about. (coldness=camaraderie)
a. “Hi, I don’t know you but aren’t you freezing?”
b. “Hi, we’ve reached an awkward part of our conversation, and I don’t really know what else to say so . . . gosh it’s cold isn’t it??”
c. “Hi, I do know you, and even though I’ve belabored the point, I would really like you to understand that I’d probably be warmer if you locked me in the refrigerator.”
This is Sylvia Plath:
She wrote The Bell Jar.
She also stuck her head in the oven to kill herself.
“Do you think that maybe Sylvia Plath wasn’t crazy . . . she was just cold?”
-Lorelei Gilmore
Thursday, December 11, 2008
oh britney*
According to Wikipedia, “Hit Me Baby One More Time” came out in 1998. That would make this year the 10 year anniversary of Britney Spears’ debut into pop culture. Let’s consider it appropriately celebrated by the release of “Womanizer”.
Confession: I LIKE this song. I do. I tried fighting it. But now I get chills every time I hear it. I just listened to it three times in a row.
Womanizer, womanizer, woman womanizer, womanizer . . .
For those of you who don’t read tabloid headlines while checking out at the grocery store, here’s a summary of Britney highlights of the last ten years:
• Britney releases “Hit Me Baby One More Time.” 10 years later, 70% of population still wondering what this phrase means, 30% know and won’t tell.
• Britney dates and dumps Justin Timberlake. She didn’t like his gorilla pad. Oh wait, I mean brillo pad.
• Britney gets a valuable diamond from the bottom of the ocean.
• Britney gets married in Vegas. Britney gets annulled in Vegas.
• Britney dances with a python.
• Britney kisses Madonna.
• Britney marries K-Fed. Has 2 kids. Does not put them in car seats.
• Britney learns that her head is not very round. Because she shaves it.
So happy anniversary. Here’s to 10 years of making me dance in front of the mirror.
Even if I am slightly ashamed to admit it.
*I REFUSE to make the title of this post a play on words from a britney spears song. But if i were going to do that I would probably use one of these stellar titles:
-email my heart
-soda pop
-not a girl, not yet a woman
-bombastic (10 bucks says she doesn't know what this word means)
or of course...
oops, i did it again
-
Confession: I LIKE this song. I do. I tried fighting it. But now I get chills every time I hear it. I just listened to it three times in a row.
Womanizer, womanizer, woman womanizer, womanizer . . .
For those of you who don’t read tabloid headlines while checking out at the grocery store, here’s a summary of Britney highlights of the last ten years:
• Britney releases “Hit Me Baby One More Time.” 10 years later, 70% of population still wondering what this phrase means, 30% know and won’t tell.
• Britney dates and dumps Justin Timberlake. She didn’t like his gorilla pad. Oh wait, I mean brillo pad.
• Britney gets a valuable diamond from the bottom of the ocean.
• Britney gets married in Vegas. Britney gets annulled in Vegas.
• Britney dances with a python.
• Britney kisses Madonna.
• Britney marries K-Fed. Has 2 kids. Does not put them in car seats.
• Britney learns that her head is not very round. Because she shaves it.
So happy anniversary. Here’s to 10 years of making me dance in front of the mirror.
Even if I am slightly ashamed to admit it.
*I REFUSE to make the title of this post a play on words from a britney spears song. But if i were going to do that I would probably use one of these stellar titles:
-email my heart
-soda pop
-not a girl, not yet a woman
-bombastic (10 bucks says she doesn't know what this word means)
or of course...
oops, i did it again
-
Saturday, October 25, 2008
lizard psychology
This is Norm. Squint, you can see him.
This is Norm's penthouse.
He resides in our living room.
For those of you who don’t know how Norm came to us, let me tell you. Norm, the lizard, came in the mail. U.S. Postal Service to be exact. It’s a miracle really.
Norm faked his own death twice this week.
I don’t have the most affection for Norm but I thought I’d check on him one morning. He was sprawled against the glass, eyes closed, slightly blue. Dang. The sight of the dead lizard was upsetting so I turned his bowl around to eat my Cranberry Almond Crunch in peace. When I went back over Norm had changed position (although still sprawled, shut-eyed, and blue). So he wasn’t dead after all.
The next day, Sierra texted me to say that Norm was dead for sure this time. The roommates shook his house, poured water on him, and did many other obnoxious things to verify it. But once again, Norm deceived us, came alive and crawled on a branch.
I don’t understand Norm.
Here are my theories,
Norm:
a. really is nearing death and these are just signs of illness. Or of hunger because we haven’t fed him in awhile.
b. hates us because he’d rather be named Dragon Slayer.
c. is actually a girl. And tired of his/her plastic wrap ceiling. Wants to call Hillary Clinton.
d. was awake when we watched Count of Monte Cristo and learned that faking your own death is a sure way out of captivity.
e.is haunting us with his ghost when he leaves consciousness. This explains why food randomly goes missing from the freezer.
So who knows if the days of Norm are numbered or not. But one thing’s for sure, cats aren’t the only ones with nine lives.
This is Norm's penthouse.
He resides in our living room.
For those of you who don’t know how Norm came to us, let me tell you. Norm, the lizard, came in the mail. U.S. Postal Service to be exact. It’s a miracle really.
Norm faked his own death twice this week.
I don’t have the most affection for Norm but I thought I’d check on him one morning. He was sprawled against the glass, eyes closed, slightly blue. Dang. The sight of the dead lizard was upsetting so I turned his bowl around to eat my Cranberry Almond Crunch in peace. When I went back over Norm had changed position (although still sprawled, shut-eyed, and blue). So he wasn’t dead after all.
The next day, Sierra texted me to say that Norm was dead for sure this time. The roommates shook his house, poured water on him, and did many other obnoxious things to verify it. But once again, Norm deceived us, came alive and crawled on a branch.
I don’t understand Norm.
Here are my theories,
Norm:
a. really is nearing death and these are just signs of illness. Or of hunger because we haven’t fed him in awhile.
b. hates us because he’d rather be named Dragon Slayer.
c. is actually a girl. And tired of his/her plastic wrap ceiling. Wants to call Hillary Clinton.
d. was awake when we watched Count of Monte Cristo and learned that faking your own death is a sure way out of captivity.
e.is haunting us with his ghost when he leaves consciousness. This explains why food randomly goes missing from the freezer.
So who knows if the days of Norm are numbered or not. But one thing’s for sure, cats aren’t the only ones with nine lives.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
The Wal-Mart Problem
Anyone who knows me knows that I LOVE food. I want to marry it. My love for food is maybe only challenged by my love for Harry Potter and/or listening to Disturbia on the way to school. So naturally, I love the place where all food comes from: the grocery store. The average American consumer probably doesn’t enjoy going to the grocery store, but for me it is a pilgrimage to the Mecca of all things edible. There are aisles of possibility at the grocery store.
So much to my dismay, I was peer pressured into grocery shopping with my roommates at Wal-mart. I hate Wal-Mart. Besides the unusually high ceilings and the pervading sense of gray, I have strange feeling that every time I walk through those automatic doors I am contributing to some corporate conspiracy that is taking over small businesses worldwide.
Obviously, the only way to combat this spoiled shopping experience was to be decidedly grumpy the whole time. It worked for quite a while: all through the produce section (too many peaches, too little apples) and into the bread aisle (no wheat to be found). But then . . . I saw it. Post Select Cranberry Almond Crunch. The best thing that ever came in a box. There it was, the gem of all cereals, for the very low price of $2.78. Normally it was in the exorbitant range of $4.99, but, here, the miracles of capitalism brought this joy into the range of my college budget.
It was a dilemma indeed. Because I still hate Wal-mart. I do. But in that moment I had to resist the urge to run gleefully to check out with a cart full of Cranberry Almond Crunch. So, folks, we have a Wal-Mart problem. Is it cheap prices and bowls full of cereal . . . or gray, oddly echo-y, crowded, and monopolizing? The jury’s still out.
So much to my dismay, I was peer pressured into grocery shopping with my roommates at Wal-mart. I hate Wal-Mart. Besides the unusually high ceilings and the pervading sense of gray, I have strange feeling that every time I walk through those automatic doors I am contributing to some corporate conspiracy that is taking over small businesses worldwide.
Obviously, the only way to combat this spoiled shopping experience was to be decidedly grumpy the whole time. It worked for quite a while: all through the produce section (too many peaches, too little apples) and into the bread aisle (no wheat to be found). But then . . . I saw it. Post Select Cranberry Almond Crunch. The best thing that ever came in a box. There it was, the gem of all cereals, for the very low price of $2.78. Normally it was in the exorbitant range of $4.99, but, here, the miracles of capitalism brought this joy into the range of my college budget.
It was a dilemma indeed. Because I still hate Wal-mart. I do. But in that moment I had to resist the urge to run gleefully to check out with a cart full of Cranberry Almond Crunch. So, folks, we have a Wal-Mart problem. Is it cheap prices and bowls full of cereal . . . or gray, oddly echo-y, crowded, and monopolizing? The jury’s still out.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Silver Linings
After a bit of a nearly-quarter-life crisis, it has been my goal to become an inherent optimist.
My new philosophy of life was partially cemented by an episode of Friends, where a little girl played by Dakota Fanning frankly reminds an unhappy Ross that “whiners are wieners”. Yes, it came from a Friends episode, I know, but still, the principle is true (and the phrase is catchy).
With this new goal I’ve noticed that the world is a beautiful shade of silver. Not gray. Silver. The phenomenon of cause-and-effect has shown that even the most disastrous causes can prove to have angelic effects. My sister (go Beck) recently noted how Hurricane Ike, despite the troubles, is giving the Church some spotlight. Not finding a job I wanted allowed me to change my major to something exciting. My window doesn’t have a screen, but at least now I can launch projectiles onto unaware passersby.
Life is good. Maybe even metallic-ly so.
2 Nephi 10:20
My new philosophy of life was partially cemented by an episode of Friends, where a little girl played by Dakota Fanning frankly reminds an unhappy Ross that “whiners are wieners”. Yes, it came from a Friends episode, I know, but still, the principle is true (and the phrase is catchy).
With this new goal I’ve noticed that the world is a beautiful shade of silver. Not gray. Silver. The phenomenon of cause-and-effect has shown that even the most disastrous causes can prove to have angelic effects. My sister (go Beck) recently noted how Hurricane Ike, despite the troubles, is giving the Church some spotlight. Not finding a job I wanted allowed me to change my major to something exciting. My window doesn’t have a screen, but at least now I can launch projectiles onto unaware passersby.
Life is good. Maybe even metallic-ly so.
2 Nephi 10:20
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
The Rules of Unneccessary Freak-Outs
Since our friend Tropical Storm Edouard completely ruined my beach plans, I am left to sit here in my living room, complain about a blister, and ponder the human tendency to FREAK OUT. Good old Edouard has reminded me of another tropical acquaintance I once had, Hurricane Rita, circa 2005. Rita showed me what happens when the world freaks out. For those of you who may not be familiar with that yet, this is what happens: People wait in a 2 mile long line to get a tank of gas, pay $20 for bottled water, and wait in traffic moving at the pace of 2 feet/min. All in all, most of this turned out to be completely unnecessary. The hurricane proved not even strong enough to propel my brother’s skateboard-kite hybrid and all those who ended up stranded on I-45, with no gas, felt like suckers for missing a 6 day vacation. Granted, Hurricane Katrina had just happened so nerves were a little on edge, but then again New Orleans’ peripheral looks like a contact lens. So anyway, this left me with my first rule of freaking out:
Freaking out when a hurricane is coming and you live in a bowl: OK
Freaking out when a hurricane is coming and you live on a cookie sheet: not OK
Moving on to example 2 of the freak out instinct. This morning during my scholarly scour of the Houston Chronicle, I came across a peculiar showcase of human nature, “145 Die in Northern India During Stampede at Shrine.” My first thought: Whoa. I guess those cows aren’t so sacred after all. But upon further examination, I realized this was not a stampede of cows or other such quadrupeds, but of HUMANS. A HUMAN stampede killed 145 people. That’s 29 basketball teams, or 20 mini vans, or 5 classrooms of kids, or in other words a LOT of people. Apparently, a rumor quickly spread that there was a landslide so the Hindus visiting this shrine (located on a cliff) went completely berserk. People were pushed off the edge and/or trampled resulting in the deaths of mostly women and children. (http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/world/5922320.html or for a similar story see Alma 30:59) But in the end, the only avalanche was the one of panicked pilgrims trying to run away. It’s shocking to think this many people died because of . . . nothingness really. So here’s rule 2 of freaking out:
Freaking out when you may trample small Indian children: not OK
Freaking out when you may trample apostates named Korihor: OK
All this caused me to reflect on freaking out in my personal life. Apparently, it’s something I do often. However, I feel my occasional hyper ventilations are very often deserved (i.e. anytime I’ve had to go ice skating) and in the end, when I realize the problem was nowhere near as big as I made it to be, it was much easier to deal with (except for ice skating, that’s still a big problem). So I suppose hear is my final rule of freaking out:
Freaking out when it results in death, destruction, carnage, chaos, paranoia, etc: not OK
Freaking out when it results in anything else but the previously mentioned problems: OK!!!
Or at least in my personal, prone-to-freak-out, opinion :)
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