Get up offa that thang

One time, I decided I wanted to exercise. I was going to run. No, I'm not joking. I really got it into my head (somehow) that running and I were going to be Best Friends. I'd be all Oh hey, let's hang out. and Running would say, Okay, sure. and I'd say, I really want to go buy a new book and read it while I eat a whole bunch of Peaches and Cream Oatmeal with vanilla ice cream on top and then maybe shopping for shoes and Running would glare at me and say, Fat chance sucker. Put on your pink tennis shoes.

Wait, what?! Okay, maybe I just needed more friends.

Anyways, because I hadn't run since the Ninth Grade Mile I was forced to run every Friday, I did what any novice runner would do: I Googled. Up came From Couch to 5K. I was so up for anything involving a couch, though Bed would have been a better choice, I clicked. I printed. I put on my damn pink tennis shoes. But, first I needed to make an Ipod play list. And hunt down some water bottles. And socks. And I probably ate some oatmeal with ice cream on top just for, you know, energy or whatever.

I took off down the street. Couch to 5K told me I should start out walking for five minutes then alternate jogging for 60 seconds with walking for 90 seconds for week one. Please. I eat a carton of ice cream faster than that. I skipped week one. I also skipped weeks two, three, four and five.

Jog for five minutes. Oh, heck yes. Five minutes is cake. That's like the time it takes me to shower. I took off jogging.

60 seconds. No problem. Haha! Obviously skipping week one was a good choice. Week one was for SUCKERS! 

Two minutes. This is tough. 

Two minutes and five seconds. Why is this happening to me?! Running, we're supposed to be friends. Why are you gossiping about me to all the cool girls? Why are you laughing at me??? Why do I feel like I WANT TO DIE!?!?!? THIS RELATIONSHIP IS OVER! !@)*(#*)$#&*!)*


And that's when I decided to do yoga.


-whitters

Attempted Murder 3: In Which the Baby is Safe

Because my siblings and I tried to kill each other in various ways on a daily basis, I now have a duty to record our attempted murders.

A few summers after my dad graduated from The Best Graduate School Ever, my parents remodeled the house my mom grew up in.  This house was a looker. Asbestos laden "popcorn" adorned the ceilings, waiting to kill some unsuspecting sucker. A large, life-sized painted Charlie Chaplin mournfully gazed down upon us from the walls of our playroom -- probably also waiting to kill some unsuspecting sucker. Brown painted panels, most definitely covered in lead, lurked about for my baby sister Maddie to gnaw on should they come loose from the wall and fall on her head as she crawled around the dinning room. It was truly a lovely home.

During this remodel, my mom needed to run a few errands (probably more black and white curtains) and packed up my brother and Maddie into our mini-van. Who knows where I was. Probably playing with my imaginary friends.

Now, this was no high-tech Honda  all the hip soccer moms are driving these days. No automatically starting engines and TVs and nonsense. No fancy keys or cool sunroof. This was a gold and white Mercury Villager. The greatest. We named it The Van.

Yeah, I know this isn't gold and white.

Forgetting something inside, my mom instructed Brock to Stay in the Van with the Baby. Got it? Stay in the Van with the baby.

The most reliable of babysitters.

 She was in the house a few minutes when Brock came running back inside. My mom was a little surprised to see him since she had instructed him to Stay in the Var with the Baby. She asked, "Brock! What are you doing!?"

Brock reassured her, "Don't worry Mom. I locked all the doors. The Baby is safe!"

Yes, Maddie was locked in. She, for one, would Stay in the Van. Looks like she had no other choice.

At least she was safe!











*For the record, my mom called the cops and they got the Baby out.
-whitters

Eight Moments in the Life of the Writer: Eight

So, I'm fairly good with words. You must agree if you're reading this. I like words. I like big words. Small words. New words. Nerdy words. One of my favorite books is the Phantom Tollbooth because of the proliferation of puns. (Apparently they are making it into a movie!!!)

JoHanna and I are in charge of writing a handbook for my work. The handbook is about kitchen remodeling. I have never remodeled anything nor do I know anything about it. But, here JoHanna and I are writing a handbook. It looks amazing, by the way, and is really good.  I'd use it. After many drafts, we present our book to our boss. He looks at it. Reads it. Practically points out each word with his finger the way a kindergartener does. He stops.

'I don't like this word."

"Which word?"

"Problematic."

"Uh, why?"

"It's a Big Word."

"Problematic? I use it all the time...it's not a hard word..."

"Oh. Sorry. We didn't all go to [Fancy Liberal Arts University in Southern California]."

Blank stare. More blank stare. Really blank stare. This is starting to get problematic.

"Well.  I've been speaking since I was six months old. I've been collecting words ever since. So..."

Laugh. Laugh. Laugh.

Apparently, problematic is now a Five Dollar Word.

pedantic, pretentious boor. 

Side note: An ex-boyfriend's sister-in-law majored in journalism. At her Thank You All for Coming wedding speech, she said she didn't want to write anything down because it would probably sound pretentious.

Hey, congratulations. Not being pretentious? Didn't happen.

Then, the entire family made fun of her behind her back. Which is malicious, spiteful, or overbearing.  See what I did there?

Yes, the lawn mower is a power tool

It snowed last week.  It's Utah, so you know, it does that a lot here.  But, my parents were out of town in Hawaii (lucky) and I was house-sitting.  By house-siting, I really mean babysitting.  But, when the charges are taller than you, bigger than you and meaner than you...it's a sad thing to admit.  I am the runt of the family.  This is important because it figures into the story later.  Remember, me=runt.

So.  It snowed.  It snowed a lot because Utah weather is a pain in the a and dumps the most snow between January and March.  Right when you're getting sick of crappy weather and snow and ice and freezing cold.  And boots and scarfs and mittens.  It's only cute in December.

The snow came down!  Maddie went out to shovel the driveway and I thought, "well, let's just use the snow blower.  It's like a lawn mower.  How hard can that be?"

Last time I used the lawn mower, I fell down the hill.  I'm not allowed to use the lawn mower.  I'm bad with power tools.  I decide to soldier on. I'm smart. I'm capable.  I can run the snow blower. As soon as I find it. I found it (Maddie found it) and figured out how to start it. Genius! Then I tried to make it go. Uphill. It did not want to go uphill. At all. It didn't want to go left and didn't want to go right. It didn't want to move. My feet, however, did. And so did my grey, thigh high boots. I am a classy lady.

This is how I snow blow.

Maddie tried to join me. We pushed. And slipped. And fell down the drive way. I yelled, 'This is why I'm going to live in a condo!!!!!!"

And my neighbor across the street came out on her porch, laughed at us, took a picture and went inside.

I hate this state.
Snow blowers can suck it, too.

I did not die

Don't worry everyone. I did not die.

My surgery went well.

I have amazing talents while totally high.

For example:

My dad apparently thinks I can function normally in my appointed position as Human Dictionary.

He took me to the doctor's office and started to type out an email. He asked me a grammar question right after I had taken oral sedatives.

I stared at him.

He then said, "Oh right. Why am I asking you?"

HOWEVER, my amazing mental capacity was proven later last week.

I couldn't remember my follow up appointment. So I called the doctor's office. They let me know the time and date.

I went to put it in my Blackberry.

Lo and behold: IT WAS ALREADY THERE.

The address, which I can't even remember sober, was there correctly along with the date, time and doctor's name. I typed it in while totally off my rocker.

Moral of the story:

DO MORE DRUGS. I function better that way.



I am joking. Obviously.

GUMS

Ugh.

Because I have the worst genes in the world (Thanks Gramma), I am the lucky recipient of a....

FREE GINGIVAL GRAFT!

no, it's not free. 

no, it's not fun.

don't Google it.

Trust me.

My mouth hurts.

That is all.

List...10? Hair Raising!

My hair and I have an unfortunate history.

In tenth grade, I cut my hair off waaay above my ears. My then boyfriend told me I looked like a lesbian. Not in a good way.

It was a dark time.

In college, I dyed my blonde hair....orange. ON ACCIDENT.

My hairdresser sister is cringing.


Other semi-normal styles below... And yes. I AM very self absorbed this afternoon.

Once Upon a Time

I had a blog. 

And within the blog, I promised to go tech-free for Sabbath Manifesto. 


And I failed greatly.


I should have stuck with something I could actually accomplish.


Like eating cheese.  Or painting my fingernails.  Or reblogging photos on Tumblr.

Or any number of things.

I can't help it.

Sorry.

Sabbath FAILURE

So, like any true addict, I failed at my Sabbath Manifesto.

But, I had to see?

The seat in Oliver (my little red car) got stuck.  All the way back.  So far back that my abnormally short legs couldn't reach the pedals.  Luckily, I have a really long torso.  Kind of like this guy:

I was able to lean alll the way forward in my seat, clutching wildly at the steering wheel as I drove up to watch  my sister play her harp in a children's program.  Not such a good idea.  Oliver lurched up the street like I was just learning to drive stick-shift.  screeeeeech. vrooooooom.

I live down the street from my destination.  Don't worry.

Natrually, I had to ask Google what was wrong with Oliver.  It was either that or risk hitting small children and old people.  And dogs.  My neighborhood is full of all of them.

Once I was on Google, I figured...it was all over. 

Might as well give up.

I'll try again next week.

I failed.  But, I was only thinking of the children!!!

:)

List 7: Fashion is Smashin

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Over at Yes and Yes, Sarah Von indulges in list making every Sunday. She also travels the world and is all sorts of awesome.

The List:

Fashion Trends.

1. Fifth Grade
Let's be honest. I didn't have the best fashion sense. For some reason, I decided I had to wear a dress for fifth grade picture day. Everyone else is in t-shirts and overalls. Then there's me. Bottom row. In a dress with a huuuuge collar and blue and yellow flowers. Keepin' it classy.

2. Sixth Grade
I had a track suit combo I loved. It was yellow and stretchy. Combined with tennis shoes (the big, white kind for running) and a stretchy tattoo necklace, I. was. so. cool. I also had a perma-ponytail. Everyone had a stretchy, fake tattoo necklace right?

3. Seventh Grade
My jr. high decided we needed to wear uniforms. However, some days, we got a free day to wear whatever we wanted. My mom bought me: a long sleeved Tommy Hilfinger shirt, a pair of Lucky jeans and Doc Marten mary janes. I also had short bleached blonde hair and wore a lot of white eye makeup. Nobody from elementary school recognized me. When I walked through the halls at school, a girl yelled at me, "Prep!"

4. Tenth Grade

I cut off my hair. It was supposed to look like Mia Farrow, but ended up looking more like a mushroom.

5. Eleventh Grade
My poor mushroom hair grew out. I decided that everything looked better with a bow and took long lengths of ribbon and tied them around the arm of my shirt and through the neckline. Big bows were always on my shoulder. Trend. Setter.

6. Senior Year
I had long, stringy bleached blonde hair, the result of a home highlighting gone wrong. I wore a lot of black eyeliner. Taylor Momson took inspiration from me. Kidding. Eventually, I got a normal hair cut and wore high heels. My teacher called me Barbie.

7. Freshman Year of College
Arrived in California with a whole mess of blonde curls. Scared my roommate and she thought I was a total weirdo.

Which I might be. :)

Kindlegarten: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

In which I believe my mind has been...poisoned?

Those of you who know me...and maybe even those of you who don't...know that I am not by any means prudish. Some might even say I am a little more prone to Humor of the Male Variety. My sophomore year of college I was Queen of That's What She Said jokes. HOWEVER, I do have a heart. And my heart doesn't enjoy reading about certain subjects. Might I explain:

I am obsessed with Kindlegarten. I spend more time with My New Boyfriend than anyone else. I love that I can read basically any book in the world. After hearing all the hoopla surrounding The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, I finally downloaded a sample. I approached it half-heatedly. I didn't really want to like it. I read the sample though. I was hooked. I really enjoyed the book. I was absorbed by the pure strangeness of the whole situation. Mikael Blomkvist is a financial journalist turned murder detective when his journalism career turns south. Lisbeth Salander is an outcast computer hacker with a strange past. How would the two of them become intertwined in the plot? Who really was behind the murder? Would Blomkvist get his revenge? And why does everyone in Sweden have a last name that starts with a B?!!?

I read pretty much every second I got. Until last night. I couldn't sleep. I powered up my Kindle (yeah, I sleep with it). Big mistake.

SPOILER ALERT:

3 AM is not the best time to read about some perverts awful sexual assault on a girl. Especially in such detail. I can handle a little bit of grisly detail a la The Kite Runner. But, this book (originally titled more appropriately in Swedish Men Who Hate Women) is rife with gruesome sexual assaults and murders. The disgusting thing is, these accounts of assault were presented in such a way that it felt like the female characters were so hardened by their circumstances it didn't really affect them. And the author? I think it takes a sick mind to write in such a detached way about so many horrible events. The dialogue was creepy and twisted. Although Salandar is a fiercely independent woman, the way her Advokat speaks to her is like he is a pedophile addressing a small child. Although she tries to act, she is only acted upon. Disgusting. Men Who Hate Women really is a more appropriate title for this book. Not one male character is this entire book has one redeeming quality.


I really wanted to enjoy this book. I was thoroughly disappointed with the content and graphic nature. Too many women (and men and children for that matter) are abused each day for me to even remotely enjoy reading a fictional account of such events.


No thanks. I'll pass. Deleted from Kindlegarten.

Not Great at the GRE

On Saturday, I woke up at the bright hour of 8:30 and sped all the way to my GRE class. I felt like Elle Woods in Legally Blonde when she goes to Harvard for the first time. I (dressed up, despite the fact that I had maybe...ten seconds...to get ready) walked into a classroom full of people bumming it in their hoodies and baseball hats. Don't get me wrong, I love to be comfortable, but I was surprised that basically everyone looked like...a "typical" college student! I tried to smile and make friends with a few people sitting next to me, but everyone gave the "Okay Barbie, let's get serious" look to me. I went to college in California. A small, Christian college where "bumming" it meant rocking your Juicy sweats and Uggs. Basically everyone, even the boys, got dressed up every single day. Not only that, people were friendly. Not just a little friendly, really friendly. Even after the initial "Hey-I-Don't-Know-Anyone-Here-So-Let's-Be-Friends" wore off. If fact, I think most of California was significantly more friendly than anywhere else I've ever been. Bonus points if you can guess which university I attended.

Anyways, after the initial shock of that wore off, I proceeded to be shocked in another way.

Guys. The GRE is hard!

I'm not sure I remember how to do 8th grade math. It's possible it has been manymanymanyyears since I have done anything more complicated than adding and subtracting. We went to take the Quantitative portion of the test and wow! It was not exactly what I was expecting. I have the Verbal skills of a very intelligent person (as you can all tell right?) , but the math skills of this person:

( this is me. as a very small child. eating vegetable soup )

But, I will not get discouraged. I am DETERMINED! If I can learn to stop making crazy faces, I can make friends with these people. I can crack the Awful Quantitative part of the GRE.



Okay, I might have lied about the first part.











baby steps guys. baby steps.


Hey! Good job B. You got your white coat today. Good luck future Dr. B!!!

good luck dr. b

today b is leaving to go to med. school. good luck dr. b. today is the day i figure out what i'm going to do while b. is away.

♥ searching for an internship
♥ taking that GRE class i signed up for gulp
♥ hanging out with my. new. boyfriend.
♥ learning french in my spare time so i can attempt to be smart in grad. school. thanks for nothing Pepperdine language requirement. does anyone want to tutor me?!?!?!? for freee or an awesome dinner?
♥ generally moping about
♥ g-chatting b
♥ synching b's and my calendars on google


let's just say....i need to find a lot of things to occupy my time.

Spring Cleaning

i'm going to tell you a secret

I'm loathe to ever clean anything. I wish I was more "Type A" so I would actually be more organized. Alas, this is an impossibility as I fail when it comes to organizing anything bigger than my desk at work. My desk is always clean. ALWAYS.

In a fit of...motivation...brought on by the fact that my house is 80 degrees and it's super sunny and I'm crossing my fingers that this warm weather stays around longer than the stupid winter did...I organized my room. Put away all my sweaters. Dusted. Vacuumed up a spider. Did laundry. Put away all my art history books. Put away my boots (goodbye bright red, suede thigh-highs).

And I collected information on graduate school. Gaaah. I need to sign up for a GRE class, sign up for a French or Italian class (thanks "You Must Be Fluent In AT LEAST One Other Language Requirement) and stab myself for graduating college a year ago and NOT APPLYING TO GRADUATE SCHOOL THEN. Not that I knew any French a year ago anyways. But at least I could pretend. I can either get a masters...or...become Dr. Wood. Art History PhD extraordinaire. Who can't spell vacuum. Or speak French.


On the other Dr. front...real Dr. not a wannabe one like me...Bear has an interview with St. George. WISH HIM LUCK.

Things I Love Thursday

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♥ On the Town
♥ Sharpie Pens
♥ The Copper Onion
♥ Ricotta dumplings @ The Copper Onion. So. OMGood.
♥ White journal from mom for Xmas
♥ Searchlight
♥ lavender nail polish
♥ horizontal stripes
♥ my "less expensive" elephant bangles from India
♥ using the words "less expensive" instead of cheaper
♥ camera tote bags
♥ my blackberry
♥ zuummmba (just kidding. zumba is the devil)
♥ yoga
♥ holli the pilates teacher for pilasting me. owwww.

what are you lovin???

P.S. there was totally a stripper in my zumba class. YES.

Day 3

the lovely stuff

Follow follow me to Charade M.Y.L.A.

"♥ Remember that it is a blessing, not a burden, to be who you are."

Homework: "♥ Gain self-understanding; spend a day with yourself.

Be an observer of all your own actions, whatever you’re doing, even if it is a completely average day. Keep your journal with you and make notes throughout the day. At the end of the day, rationalise ten truly individual and amazing qualities you have noticed about yourself."

Ahh nuts. I looked this one up too late. I'll have to do it tomorrow and write it all down!

As everyone can probably tell, I like talking about myself (well it is MY blog) and I like to be in the center of attention (who doesn't?) BUT, it was surprisingly hard to come up with ten things! Here they are anyways....



TEN THINGS:::

1. Despite the fact that I'm like the most anti-social person on the planet...I really do like making friends!
2. I'm good at multi-tasking.
3. I am creative and colorful.
4. I enjoy tackling a project.
5. I LOVE learning!
6. I'm friendly.
7. I make an effort to try my best.
8. I try to put my own "spin" on things.
9. I try to be efficient.
10. I'm generally a positive person...even though I'm realllllly sarcastic. It's all about balance.

♥

i would like to let the world know that i, whitney, have started to exercise.

the end of the world is coming sooner than 2012 people.

though i must admit, my foray into exercising was almost stopped because Tar-jay doesn't HAVE PINK WEIGHTS.

are pink weights so difficult to carry? i'm only using baby weights anyways. so it's not like some 200 lb man would feel emasculated by my tiny pink weights should he need to buy some at his local Target.

mine are blue.

and ugly.

and i try not to look at them. and instead focus on my pink running shoes that my friend blair-bear picked out for me the last time i decided i was going to be athletic.

I'm really bad at New Year's Resolutions. Really. Bad. So bad that I can't even remember a single one I have ever made. Guess those lasted long. I'd like 2010 to be a year of improvement. 2009 brought a lot of changes: getting my bachelor's degree, moving back home to freezing cold Utah, getting my first "real" job...and hopefully Twenty-Ten will too. :)

The Bear was here for one whole week! Unfortunately I have no pictures at the moment to prove it. Soon though!