Important Things I Learned on Reading Days

-While working on my math take-home test, I learned that it's super hard to count in my head while listening to "1, 2, 3, 4" by the Plain White T's.

-When I tell myself "I'm going to be at the library by 10 am" I really mean that I'm going to sleep 12 hours straight and arrive on campus at 3 pm. But I feel okay about it because I was REALLY tired. (And, you know, sleep helps with that.)

-A surprising amount of fun can be had with only pretzels and a webcam.


-DrawSomething is a GREAT finals diversion.

-Somehow I am not stressed about my five finals and everything seem very manageable. Probably because last semester I had SEVEN finals. (the scars have not yet healed...)

-Why do finals and moving out always have to be the same week? Those are like the suckiest things that college students have to do regularly. (No worries, I've already started packing a week early).

-Without fail, I always sit by a sniffler at the library. WITHOUT FAIL. Except yesterday when I sat next to a man who kept freaking out at his notebook and whisper-yelling to no one.

I'm pretty sure that being a serial killer in his future.

I used to be much dumber...

The cool thing about little sisters is that they remember really dumb things you did when you were 14 years old. And then they remind you about them approximately 7 years later on Monday afternoons while you are sharing lunch, and it is hilarious.

So....

Once upon a time, when I was fourteen years old, I was at a youth dance. Tender, I know. And there was also a boy at this youth dance. Well, there was more than one boy at this dance, thank goodness, but one in particular who was causing me great distress.

You see... he liked me. GASP. How dare he??!! What a travesty! So much angst and drama and emotional pain!!!

Apparently I didn't like him back... not even a little. In fact, I thought he was a weirdy, which is kind of rude of me, even if he kind of was.

So when the rumors began circulating at the youth dance that he was going to come ask me to slow dance in a while, it was like a world-wide CRISIS on my hands. My peaceful life as I knew it was on the brink of collapse, people!!!

His friends came over to my friends, and my friends went over to his friends, begging him not to come ask me because it would be really awkward and I didn't want to dance with him because he was creepy. Oh the stress!

So when the next slow song came on, I was on high alert. Then, my shrieky, over-excitable friends
began to panic as they saw this boy approach me from behind. We did what any group of completely level-headed, logical fourteen year old girls would do:

I dropped to the gym floor and curled up in the fetal position as my friends huddled around me to shield my body. And then he left. And then we ran to the girls bathroom screaming.

So nowadays, whenever I do something really dumb, like sleep through my morning class or watch five hours of youtube videos before starting a paper....

at least I can remember that I used to be much, much, much dumber.

this is so not true. okay, it's a little bit true. ha.

(and hallelujah I didn't hang out with that group of friends much longer. but really... dumb.)

Ward Formal

It's like prom but in college.

To get ready, I shaved my legs (big deal), painted my toenails (huge accomplishment), brushed my teeth (impressive), had my sister do a waterfall braid in my hair (okay, this really was incredible, she is like a hair-stylist rockstar), and slapped on an extra coat of mascara, put on my old prom dress (it was tiiiiiiiighttttt. no really, it hurt), and then my "date" came to get me, so I ditched all other efforts. (I use the term "date" loosely here, because we were set up an hour before the dance. But he was great).

I took no pictures...

But Anne and I invented this new game that pretty much made my night. It's called "Mimick the Awkward Dance Moves of Someone Nearby and then the Other Person Guesses Who It Is."

It was not played in a spirit of mean-spirited-ness, I promise. It was a hoot, and I highly recommend you play it with a close friend at the next dance you attend, preferably where people are super into their gangsta groovin'.

It's Not Easy Being Green.

Oh gosh you guys. I wasn't going to tell this story. It's dumb. But you persuaded me. jerks. jk. but for reals.

I was super nervous for my first drama class, for four reasons.

1. I don't do drama. I'm a drama queen (ha), but I'm no actress.
2. The class is almost four hours long. At night.
3. I have a fear of public speaking /slash/ looking stupid /slash/ looking stupid while public speaking.
4. The ratings for this professor said she makes you get out of your comfort zone.

I like my comfort zone.

So of course when class started and I only knew a couple of people in the room, I was quite tense and ill at ease. I sat there with my fists clenched under my desk, and it didn't help that moments before this class started, I got some bad news that made me quite emotionally unstable. And then it didn't help that I started crying during the opening prayer.

Bad start.

So I sat there, all nervous and awkward-like, and tried desperately to convince myself that I was totally normal and everyone was going to love me, and hey, maybe I'd make a great actress and everyone in this class would be my eventual besties and such. But then, the professor handed out a personality test; you know, the kind where you find out what color you are.

BLUE: nurturers, people-persons, emotionally motivated, etc.
GOLD: organization lovers, those who love structure, go-getters, etc.
GREEN: independent thinkers, competence-driven, math/science type of mind, etc.
ORANGE: very impulsive, love being in the spotlight, very competitive, hate structure, etc.

I took the test honestly, and I almost tied for three colors: green (35 points), blue (32 points), and gold (31 points). And I thought it represented me pretty dang well too. You see....

I'm very much a people person with a nurturing emotional side, and I love structure and organization, but on top of all that, I am an independent thinker. I resist just agreeing with people for the sake of agreeing and I refuse to do things that don't make sense to me.

Our professor told us that most the class was probably blue (being nurturing elem. ed majors and all), and gestured to a part of the room for "blues" to congregate. She knowingly predicted that there'd be a few "golds" and a few "oranges" and pointed out their areas as well. But nothing about green. The class began moving excitedly, while I sat there, forgotten.

Then she exclaimed: "Oh! And every once in a while, we'll get ONE green in the class!" and left it at that. I still sat there, panicked. I was a "green."

I raised my hand and told her so. "We have a GREEN!!!!" she exclaimed with excitement, "You will be with me!"

So while the rest of the class bonded with each other and probably became instant besties, I was whisked to a chair in the front of the room, away from all my peers, to talk about my personality with my drama professor.

She talked to me about my "green" aspects, and I told her the things I identified with and didn't identify with. And then, I had to stand up in front of the whole class full of people wondering why I was the only green to explain my "green-ness" (while also strongly emphasizing that I had almost tied with blue and gold so everyone understood I was just like them too and not some total freakazoid.)

It was then that my professor took it upon herself to describe the "typical Green" while I sat there, facing the class:
-doesn't understand emotions.
-would rather spend time with computers than with human interaction.
-may say things like "I am all alone, but don't feel bad for me, because I like to be alone."
-"live long and prosper" (please note she did the Star Trek sign while saying this.)

While she said these things, the whole class of sensitive nurturers just stared at me, their emotionally-motivated, people-loving eyes penetrating my uncaring green soul.

Maybe they weren't judging me, but.. they were totally judging me.

personally, I find the Green Giant very attractive and he's green.
so take that, haters.

Then we talked about what color of people we most identify with and which color we least identify with or struggle getting along with. I sat facing the class while most of them seemed to agree that the color they least understood was GREEN. Some of them even described "green" people they had conflicts with in the past.

Pretty sure they hated me by association at that point.

We spent two hours talking about our colors. It wouldn't have been so bad to be unique. In fact, I might have loved it on a different day when I was feeling more outgoing and less like my emotions would crumble at any point in time into a mess of tears. At the end of class, our professor assured us that we wouldn't have to divide according to our colors again, and that she wouldn't even remember our colors. Then she pointed at me and said, "Except for you, because you're the only GREEN!!"

Next time I have to take a personality test, I am going to lie, cheat and steal my way to be the majority color in the room.

I've also decided to avoid wearing the color green to that class at all costs, even if it falls on St. Patrick's Day, in order to NOT remind my green-prejudiced class that I am the only green. Maybe if I never wear green they'll just forget it all happened and accept me as one of them. I am willing to endure pinching injuries.

Other things that are out for drama class: taking broccoli as a snack, any talk about environmentalism, and grass stains. This just got real.

Sing it Kermit.

(DISCLAIMER: please note that any/all emotional trauma has been resolved by this point through telling this story to many friends and laughing extremely hard. also, my class may not hate me as much as implied (but we'll see for sure next week) (ha). please also note that my newly acquired aversion to the color green, however, is painfully real.)

Parking Lot Princess

This morning I had a doctors appointment scheduled very early. My mom went with me (bless her tender heart) and we strolled out to the almost entirely empty parking lot at 8:30 am, ready to go home.

We got in the mini-van (aka: swagger wagon), and my mom turned on the car. We sat there talking for a minute, as my mom got situated and decided to unwrap a granola bar.

That's when we saw it.

A car was idling to our left, blinker on.

"Is that lady waiting for this spot?" asked my mom.

"uhh... I think so."

I can totally understand the rules of parking lots. It's a system. It's a language. There is protocol to follow, and if you don't follow it, other people have every right to slash your tires and I get that (but don't really slash tires please).

If there is a crowded parking lot and someone is waiting for your spot, it's only polite to pull out quickly. Heck, in a BYU parking lot (where empty spots are reasons for tears of gratitude and singing the Hallelujah chorus), it is polite to let someone follow you in their car, much like a desperate hunter, all the way to your car.

But this was not like that. Please see the following visual representation:

if I wasn't so ashamed, I would tell you how long it took me to make this in Paint.
but hey, it's Christmas break. livin' large.

She just really wanted our spot. Of all the spots in the whole parking lot... our spot was clearly THE most desirable.

Me and my mom just pick super amazing parking spots in the swagger wagon, no wonder all the haters get jealous.

I Struggle with Dressing Myself.

Today was a special day...

...because today I accidentally wore my shirt backwards. To school.

I got ready really, really, lightening fast before dashing out my front door. As I walked, I thought the neckline of my shirt was suddenly uncomfortably high, but I didn't think much of it.

When Kirsi and I discovered together that my shirt was backwards during the forum, we laughed until we cried. No really, there were tears. And they weren't because Senator Joe Lieberman's speech was emotional (no 'ffense Senator, it was still good).

she's so proud of me.

scandalous back exposure.

EMBARRASSING.

Don't worry. I switched it around. But not before I ran into one of the elementary school students from the math class I tutor AND her mother.

She said, "Mommy! There's my teacher!"

And all I could think about when I met her was: this woman probably is wondering how I could possibly be a competent teacher if I can't dress myself properly.

WELCOME TO MY LIFE PEOPLE. I'm just cute like this all the time.

BYU Parking 101

Back in the day before I had a car in Provo, I used to walk... everywhere. And I mean everywhere. Like, really far sometimes. I once walked three miles in 20 degree weather to go to a museum for a homework assignment. I prided myself on my walking abilities, trekking the terrain of campus and the Provo area like an independent soldier, not reliant on a car for anything! Who needs a car to carry a gallon of milk and 4 bags of groceries home?? Pshaw!

Now I have a car. And so I drive pretty much everywhere.

Fact: it is easier.

Fact: I am now lazier.

For example. As you may have heard, I am taking a PE-teaching class this semester, which means class in the athletic building all the way up the hill, across campus and down the mountainside. It is really far from my apartment, which didn't used to phase me when I had class there back when I was a pedestrian warrior... but now?

I drive.

Please see the visual representation for further explanation.


It only makes sense.

Problem: The parking lots fill up by 8 am. So I usually drive over before 8 to park and then do homework until my 9 am class. Yesterday, however, after abusing the snooze button on my alarm clock, I found myself waking up with a gasp at 8:40 am.

It was the moment of truth. Do I accept the fact that there will be no parking and run straight to class since it will take me at least 20 minutes to walk there?

Or do I spend ten minutes brushing my teeth and putting on mascara and then drive over there, refusing to believe that there WILL be no parking. Not a maybe. A definite.

My life policy involves living in denial, so of course I drove. Yay!! I compiled the events that ensued into a BYU Parking 101 tutorial:

Step One: Pray that you will find a parking spot quickly so that you will be on time to class.

Step Two: See a dozen other cars circling the lot.

Step Three: Convince yourself that you are somehow superior to them and will somehow find a spot even though it is obvious that none of them can.

Step Four: Drive down each row of cars.

Step Five: Drive down each row of cars again, super fast.

Step Six: Freak out a little because it is now 9 am.

Step Seven: Almost get clipped by another car who whipped around a corner.

Step Eight: See a car two aisles away backing out. Punch the gas pedal and zoom over there, only to see the spot taken by a closer car.

Step Nine: See a man walking from the buildings to the parking lot.

Step Ten: Moment of truth. Your pride? Or getting to class sometime this century?

Step Eleven: Decision made.

Step Twelve: Begin creepily following said man in your car.

Step Thirteen: Look away casually when he repeatedly glances back at you looking creeped out and annoyed.

Step Fourteen. Continue driving slowly behind the man as he walks as if driving at 3 miles per hour directly behind him is purely by chance.

Step Fifteen: The target car has been reached. Aggressive blinker maneuver!!!

Step Sixteen: Endure dirty look as he pulls out. PARK IN SPOT. Shriek with joy.

Step Seventeen: Bolt from car because you are now eight minutes late to class.

As you can see, parking at BYU after 8 am is a vicious and cutthroat procedure. If you try it, I strongly urge you to follow my patented 17 step program to help you find the spot of your dreams.

I more strongly urge you to wake up early so you don't have to attend class with bedhead. I even more strongly urge you to forgo driving when possible and just walk to class because:

a) it is good for your health.
b) it is good for the environment, and
c) you will receive less dirty looks from men after stalking them in your car.

I hope you've learned something.

Battle Wounds.

When my alarm went off this morning at 6:30 am, I opened my eyes and realized that it was still mostly dark outside. I groaned and rolled over. And then I realized that I couldn't move my neck. And my back was really stiff. And my knees were throbbing. And then, when I sat up and swung my legs out from under the covers, I noticed brown and green bruises all over my knees.

It was an eventful Labor day, I remembered. But being the humble and subtle person that I am, I will just leave it up to you to decide how I managed to bruise myself up yesterday, resulting in all-over body soreness.

A) I was walking down the street, when I saw a baby crawling out from her front yard, right into the path of an oncoming pickup, so of course I immediately did a ninja dive and scooped the tot up while rolling across the asphalt just in time to dodge certain death.

"don't mention it, baby."

B) I ran a marathon super fast, and tripped and fell just before the finish line, bruising my knees, but then quickly jumped back up and broke through the awesome ribbon, winning the entire race.

this is exactly how I look when I run. yup.

C) I spent the entire day building a home for an elderly couple, placing each floor tile in position on my hands and knees, therefore causing bruising.

it was nothing, really.

D) At IHOP, after eating enough hashbrowns and french toast to sink a ship, I slipped in a puddle of water and fell on some tile.



Once again, I'm not telling you which one is the true story...

ITS UP TO YOU PEOPLE. Decide for yourself. Just keep in mind how cool I am.

A Story that Needs to Be Told.

Sorry for the lack of blogging this week. I just started the elementary ed program, and..... phew. Also, I didn't have internet in my new apartment for a week, and the internet company did everything in their power to keep it that way. But, after hours on the phone and a 30 minute drive to talk to someone in person, I prevailed. Boo ya, internet company, boo ya.

But great news! I am guest posting over at a fabulous blog called Stress Case today! It's kinda like a recap of some of my awkward moments. You should all check that out and leave a nice comment. (wink).

Back in this neck of the woods, I have a special treasure of a story for you. It's one that I've often told my friends, but never thought to write.... until NOW. (dun dun dunnnnn).

Have you ever heard the phrase "stranger than fiction"? Yeah. That's my life. I couldn't come up with this stuff.

Two years ago, my wonderful sister Jess and I decided to treat ourselves to manicures on a frosty Provo night, so we headed down to one of the local beauty schools for some shiny fresh nails on the chi-zeap.

oh yeah.

We sat down at their cute little nail stations and began the small talk with our beauty school students. It began well. It really did. We talked about school, the weather, the weather some more....

But then the polite conversation train, not only hit a few rough patches, but de-railed and then exploded into a fiery mass of devastation, not unlike that scene from Anastasia. (But unfortunately hottie Dmitri wasn't there to rescue me)

You should know something about me. I have half thumbnails. Don't freak out. Its okay, I promise. I was born with only half a nail on both of my thumbs. The other side of each nail bed is just skin. It doesn't hurt, it doesn't bother me, and no I'm not an alien. 'sssssallllgoood.

My cute little nail technician was mortified.

"Oh my gosh! Does it hurt??? (No) How did it happen?? (I was born with it) How do you cope?? (normal explanation to normal questions ensue.)"

Then she got pretty creative.

"Do you have phantom pains? Like when someone has to have their leg amputated, they can still feel tinglings where their leg used to be???"

Welp, I can't say I'd heard that one before. (PS, the answer was no... no phantom fingernail pains...)

And then I found out that she was a philosopher too.

"That SUCKS. But at least you were born with it, right?"

"I.... guess so?"

"So then you didn't have to wake up one morning and be all like, 'Gahhhh! I have half-fingernails! I'm so retarded!"

Thanks, beauty school student, for the insight. I would have been mad if I wasn't so focused on biting my lip from exploding from laughter.

It turned out, my cheap manicure kinda sucked. But I'd say it was definitely worth it, because the insights and memories I gained on that special night will live on forevahhh.

EFY is turning me into a crotchety woman.

There's this youth camp program at BYU called "Especially For Youth" (EFY) that brings thousands of teenagers to campus every week. They are EVERWHERE. Everywhere, I tell you. Sometimes I get really scared when I am walking to class and almost get stampeded by a crowd of youngin's.

unbelievably tender EFY picture from the EFY website...

Many more valiant souls love the EFY kids' presence. People like my tender roommate Ashley. She is nicer than me. She actually likes teenagers. She used to be an EFY counselor. She wants to teach high school for goodness sake. I admire that.

But I didn't even like teenagers when I WAS a teenager (six months ago baha). But now that I am the ripe old age of 20, I am a crotchety old woman. Ok, I'm just being dramatic. I do like teenagers. I just don't like obnoxious people of any age. Allow me to tell you a story:

Last week, I got a headache when I was at school in between classes. So I went to my favorite napping hallway on campus, a secluded hallway in the wilk with dim lighting and plentiful soft benches, with plans to nap that sucker away if I could.

It began well. I positioned my backpack as a pillow, curled up with my back to the open hallway and started to drift off into dreams of a headache-free life.

Time passed, and I began to become aware of something going on. The grogginess lifted, and I realized that I was surrounded by hundreds of teenage EFY kids pushing through the hallway next to me. I laid there with my eyes closed, confusion settled deep in my brain, hoping that if I didn't move no one would notice me.

"WAKE UP GIRL!" came a puberty-laden shout inches from my ear.

"He he... hehe... she's sleeping..."

"Dude, we should, like, go shake her or something. haha."

Poke. Poke. Poke.

I tensed. Was someone REALLY poking me right now???? Oh no he didn't.

If I had a hose, I would have gone to town.

Today, an EFY counselor yelled at me for going down a restricted hallway until I told him,"I'm not an EFY kid... I'm a BYU student." Slow down, homeboy.

EFY is a great program, I love it. I love BYU. I love teenagers. I love campus. I love the world.

It's just the punks in general that I could really do without. Maybe I should get a cane to wave at them? It'd really be fitting for a spinster like me. baha.

sleep deprived but so worth it.

Sooo... I currently feel so tired that I have been struggling to form complete sentences. And I'm slightly hopped up on paint fumes because of some marathon painting projects for one of my classes.

It all started last Thursday when I spent the night at one of my best friend's house, which is always an awesome thing, except that it was a school night for me. And of course we stayed up late talking about our lives. Waking up early that morning to drive an hour back to Provo for my morning class was no bueno.

And then there was this camping trip I went on Friday night. It was your typical awesome, camp fire, stay up late bonding with friends and eating s'mores experience. But I feel like between 2 am and 5 am when I was actually in my tent, I didn't really sleep. Like at all. Maybe a half-an-hour.

And then over the weekend when I was supposed to sleep a lot, I wasn't able to fall asleep for my life.

And then today I went to 6 hours of school with my mouth hanging open and drool spilling out. I went to the wrong classroom for my English class and then I forgot to print out my homework so I ran around the building and all the printer stations weren't working. At one point, I just sat on a bench and stared into nothingness for, like, 5 minutes... just because I couldn't think of what to do. And then I went back to class 30 minutes late.

Failure at it's finest, people.

If you see me walking around, do me a favor and just smile and nod, and maybe give me a couple of friendly slaps to the face because I just might be sleepwalking. :)

if in doubt, wear a belt. please.

Last night at the library I began reading an article in a children's magazine about sumo wrestlers for a homework assignment. I turned the page only to find a full page picture of a real life sumo wrestler, naked rear and all.

It reminded me of last week in one of my classes when a large man in the front row stood up to fix his sagging pants and I saw a large portion of his posterior for a disturbing few seconds.

Dear World,

Please spare me from being visually assaulted by any more fat men's naked butts in public. I really can't handle any more. Give me time to recover from the emotional scarring at least.

hesitantly yours,
Amy

Surprise!

Last week, my friend Kelsey and I went out to dinner for a much needed chat sesh. As we were leaving and getting in my filthy car, we discovered that we both love washing cars. Then we looked to our left, and not 50 feet away, we saw a car wash! It was a beautiful thing.

Several change-machine incidents and some significant mental preparation later, we were spraying down my little silver car with exuberance. Somehow, the spraying turned to singing, and the singing turned to dancing, and the camera came out and our adventure turned to modeling.

don't let this Alaskan girl fool you.... She is HOT.

workin' that sprayer.

As I was posing something fierce, Kelsey said, "Uhhh look over there!"

Yes readers, we didn't notice the line of cars in the Wendy's drive-thru watching us, with laughter and applause. SURPRISE!

It was a tender experience.

SURPRISE Number Two:
I actually managed to make blog buttons. I know, I know, nothing short of a miracle. If you want to snag one for your blog, I would be so honored! Here's a basic one, or you can find more up in the "buttons" tab, complete with button-choosing guide.




<a href=http://myhappilyevernow.blogspot.com><img alt=”My Happily Ever Now” src="<a href="http://s1139.photobucket.com/albums/n544/amynLV/?action=view&current=BLOGPICS.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i1139.photobucket.com/albums/n544/amynLV/BLOGPICS.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a>"/></a>

Have a great day, and remember kids: always check your surroundings before you dance in a carwash.

Kandy Kismet.

kis-met-

(noun)
fate, destiny.

There I was, standing in the Smith's checkout line on a Friday afternoon, purchasing groceries for myself so that I could eat something other than tortilla chips. As I placed my items on the belt, carefully shrouding my carton of ice cream and cans of soda with my deli turkey, whole wheat bread and toothpaste (don't want people judgin', am I right?), I heard the woman ahead of me in line give a happy little shriek.

"Oh my gosh, your name is Candy?!" said the shrieker as she noticed the cashier's badge.

"Yes it is!" said Candy, the cashier.

"My name is Candy too! With a K!" said Kandy.

The universe came to a standstill. This was nothing short of FATE.

"Oh wow, how cool! I don't meet many Candy's!" said Candy.

"Me neither!" said Kandy.

"Is it short for Candace?" asked Candy the Cashier.

"Nope, just Kandy!" said Kandy the Kustomer.

"Me too!" said Candy.

"What a great name!" said Kandy enthusiastically.

Do you ever have an urge to share a personal connection in a conversation that you're not even involved in? Because it was at this point that I really, REALLY wanted to say:

"HEY! My dog's name is Candy too!!!!!!!!"

One of Candy's finest moments: dressed as a hotdog for Halloween.
No, she doesn't really have demon eyes.

Somehow I knew it wouldn't be appreciated. I'm glad I didn't ruin the moment, because believe me when I say, it was pure destiny. I'm glad I was there to witness the excitement.

I mean, if I had a dog's name, I'd be excited to find someone else to share it with too.... ;)

Oh, just a little dating tip.

Last night I went on a blind date. As a rule, I don't post any real life dating stories out of courtesy.... but I feel like this is is a.... special exception.


Boys... if you take a girl out, please don't use the full moon as an opportunity to explain to your date that you are, in fact, a werewolf.

You aren't.



I didn't know this would need to be said, but now it does. Thank you world of dating for providing me with so many opportunities to laugh my head off once the door is shut! It truly is a joy like none other.

P.S. don't forget to read my 100th post! Free ice cream!!

Embarrassment Quota: Met.

I think the universe has daily quota for my embarrassing moments. The quota almost always gets filled. And that's okay because I learn to laugh about these moments.

Today, however, was very impressive. I believe I have met my quota all within five minutes! New record.

I was hurrying down the JFSB stairs to my psychology class, and immediately it came to my attention that my calf muscles were about to explode. This is because I have taken up a new fitness routine which includes going running up hilly roads. Each step down that loooong stair case caused me to want to scream out in pain, but instead I managed to let out little squeaks instead. Picture me awkwardly waddling down a ridiculous flight of stairs, squeaking like a deranged baby animal with each step. It was cute.

Then, I rushed into my class to find that the clicker quiz had already began. So I threw down my backpack to pull out my iClicker... and a bunch of tampons came out with it. Smooth, Amy, smooth.

So then I decided to just stand in the back of the lecture hall to take the clicker quiz, lest anything awkward happen while climbing over people to a seat. Suddenly, exhaustion overcame me from my descent down the stairs. I decided to lean back against the wall.

Suddenly, the classroom fell into darkness. Murmurs began as all the students began to wonder why it was suddenly pitch black.

"Hmmm," I thought. "What an interesting time for the teacher to decide to turn off the lights."

"Hey!" A girl in the back row nudged me. "You're leaning against the light switch!"

Indeed I was.

I'm on a roll today. Happy Friday, folks!

On Being a Teenager.

I have exactly ninety minutes left being a teenager!!!

These "being a teenager" years have gone by fast, and as I look back, I realize that it was all a little bit different than I expected.

Then again, my entire image of being a teenager was based off of D.J. from Full House.



I totally expected to wear groovy sweaters with shoulder pads and talk on a big chunky phone after school on my bed, and have a cute jock boyfriend named Steve who would come over and eat all our food, and I'd learn lessons about life like don't go to parties where people are drinking because if someone spills beer on you Uncle Jesse will think you were drinking it.

I thought teenagers had rocker boyfriends named Viper or rich boyfriends named Nelson and were super responsible taking care of their little sisters and went on dates to get milkshakes and typed papers on typewriters.



Wrong decade. It was definitely nothing like that.

It was more about texting, texting and more texting, immature boys, dances, movie nights, pimples, sweatshirts and jeans and many different misguided phases in fashion, summer vacations and church activities, turning 16, driving and awkward dates that never went anywhere.

My teenage years were good. There was WAY less hairspray than I imagined.

And here come my TWENTIES!!! Whoah.

Today I walked into the boys bathroom...

I knew it looked different as soon as I walked in. Darker tiles. No pink.

This sign should have been more prominent.

Then I saw a boy blowing his nose at the sink.

His eyes got really big and he said "ahhhhhhh"

And then I turned bright red and said "ahhhhhhhhhh!" as I spun around and ran out the door to hide in the girls bathroom for ten minutes.

I wish I could say more but, seriously, I'm still getting over it. And what else is there to say, really?

CONSOLE ME.

The Tale of an Elevator and a Star Quarterback

I don't know why people give me any credit for this blog. I swear, it writes itself most days.

Two days ago, I was coming from the bookstore on the third floor of the Wilkinson Center (BYU's student center) carrying a box of books I had just picked up.... Well, "carrying" sounds too graceful.. How about "grunting like a man under the weight of the TWENTY heavy books I had to buy for classes."

No lie, I'm positive there was grunting involved. It was a dang heavy box.

I hit the elevator button with my elbow, proud at how well I was managing.

Then Jake Heaps and his girlfriend walked over and it all went downhill.

Jake Heaps: BYU football hero.

THE Jake Heaps: Freshman quarterback extraordinaire.

Yes..... the Jake Heaps that broke every BYU freshman quarterback record, the Jake Heaps that threw game-winning football passes that brought BYU out of it's slump this football season.

I wanted to say something to him.

Something like, "Hey nice job throwing all those passes!" or maybe "You rock Jake Heaps!"

I found myself standing in an elevator with him. And his cute girlfriend. And my extremely heavy box. And I knew it would not go well.

"Umm.... can you hit three for me?"

"Uhh.... well we're actually on three," said the cute girlfriend. I have this problem way too often.

"Oh! Haha! Yeah I meant two! Haha. Ha. Ha. He...." said I.

"Ok," she said with a smile.

"Yeah, I always get confused!!" I said.

***awkward silence****

I could feel myself blushing as red as a tomato as I struggled under the weight of my unwieldy box. My arms were seriously trembling as I held the dang thing. So much for even bringing up my admiration for the football star standing in the elevator with me...

Then, Jake Heaps himself said with a friendly smile, "That's okay, I get confused too!"

I smiled at him. The elevator doors opened and I rushed out.

Jake Heaps: Football extraordinaire. BYU celebrity. But above all, kind citizen of the world, even with a flustered girl in an elevator who can never keep track of what floor she's on.

I am an even bigger Jake Heaps fan than before.

The Facebook Friends We All Have

Facebook. We're all on more than we admit. And I feel like, no matter who we are, we all have friends who fill certain niches on our homepage. They are all special. We love them all. Some of them make us really happy when they post a status. Certain people force us to hide their posts. But what would Facebook be without them?

Obligatory Facebook image.

THE CONSTANT UPDATER: Do you really care what they ate for breakfast this morning? Do you need to know that they stubbed their toe? Do you want to know their thoughts minute by minute? No. You don't. But they're going to tell you, hour by hour, on their iPhones.


THE QUOTER: They're gonna inspire the heck out of you, like it or not! Thank you Facebook Ghandi!


THE THIRTEEN YEAR OLD/ PERSON WHO ACTS LIKE A THIRTEEN YEAR OLD: "Well I found my new crush today LOL!! He's suuuuppper cuuutee but I'm not tellin' anyone but my BFFS!! LOL LOL!!!" Every. Single. Status.


HE CONSISTENTLY FUNNY STATUS-WRITER: Joy leaps in your heart when you see their name on your homepage. Because you KNOW they are going to make your day. Hilarious anecdotes about their life. A joke you haven't heard before. An observation on life that cracks you up. These people keep us comin' back for more.



THE PERSON WHO POSTS LYRICS AS EVERY STATUS: These are great. I love lyrics. But I am terrible at remembering lyrics. This creates a lot of confusion for me when I'm not sure if my friend's status consists of lyrics, or the deep feelings of their soul. Thankfully, I have Google to help me out.



THE VOID: These people never update. EVER. They are just too cool for that. So you have to turn into a stalker and rely on pictures other people put up to learn anything about their life. It happens. Totally normal. Then you have the complete opposite:



THE T.M.I. CREW: This is definitely different from "the Constant Updater." These homies don't post 24/7, but when they do, it more than makes up for the lack of details throughout the day. Whether it's about their fragile emotional state, or personal details no one should know, you are embarrassed for them and intrigued all at once!



THE STICKY KEYBOARD: Forrrr soooommee reeeasssonnn, theeessseee peeeppps chhhoossee tooo tyyypppee eexxtraaa letterrs intoo evverryy sttatuuss. Itt willll probbabbly makkee youu verrryyy dizzzyyyy.



THE AMBIGUOUS EMOTIONAL STATEMENT ISSUER: You don't know what they're talking about. No one knows what they are talking about. But they post it anyway. Just don't ask them anything about it. Its "private." Its okay... that's what Facebook is for, right? Your personal therapy? Oh... its not?

"It’s like I am swimming in a sea of lies, biting at me like angry eels….”

THE UNFAILINGLY CHEERFUL PERSON: How are you so happy? I love you.


THE PERSON YOU REALIZE YOU DON'T EVEN REALLY KNOW: Maybe you had Chemistry together sophomore year of high school? Maybe they are just a friend of a friend? Most likely they are one of those folks who adds every single person they come in contact with. However it happened, you are now friends with this person and you can't remember ever actually talking to them. But lucky for you, you get to follow their life more in depth than you ever did in person!



THE DRUNKEN PARTY LUNATIC: We ALL have them. An old friend who's gone a little too crunk happy in college. Yay for pictures of all-night keggers, beer pong challenges and drunk friends using poor judgment! It brings us to reflect on our innocent childhood memories with these people. It also makes Facebook very entertaining at times.


Now its YOUR turn.... Who are your Facebook friends?

Happy Facebookin'!