Hot Dogs.

I feel like everyone can agree that hot dogs are generally just gross. I mean, sure, we still eat them, but they are basically cheap meat scraps ground up and shoved into a casing. (sorry for that image... truth hurts)

We still eat them because 1.) they are delicious, and 2.) it's practically un-American not to.

Hot dogs taste especially good when:
-you are really, really hungry.
-you are camping and you roast them over a fire
-you are at a sports event
-you buy them from a street vendor
-one word: Costco.
-it is summertime and you just played outside and/or went swimming for two hours at a barbeque.

Conclusion: hot dogs taste best while outside and when very hungry.

So yeah, I'm a big hot dog supporter when it's an authentic hot dog experience: doughy bun, dripping in ketchup and mustard, hot dog straight off the grill, eating surrounded by family and friends. Fantastic!

It wasn't until I came to college (and then got a pinterest account) that I realized that some people go for an alternative hot dog experience. Some people cut up their hot dogs.... (shudder)

I think that cutting up hot dogs takes away every redeeming factor about hot dogs. No reminiscing about summer picnics. No joyous laughter as the ketchup drips from the bun down your arm.

I have a low tolerance for unique hot dog presentations. I think it has something to do with being exposed to the texture of the inside of a hot dog. Which is questionable. And nasty. And not really "meat" in the traditional sense of the word. Also, I gag easily.

And so today we will be going over the "ick factor" of different forms of hot dogs, borrowing from the US Homeland Security Terrorist Advisory System.


LOW:
The authentic hot dog experience. Ahh. Pleasant.


GUARDED:

Hot dog without a traditional bun. Suspicious, but likely still delicious.source

ELEVATED:
Cut up hot dogs in mac and cheese. Stomach is turning. This is becoming NOT OKAY.

source

HIGH:
Cut up octupus hot dog. I cannot look at this picture without gagging. WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO A HOT DOG. So unnatural. The fact that the hot dog meat is now in the form of tentacles is too much for me....

source

SEVERE:
THERE IS SPAGHETTI PUNCTURING THE QUESTIONABLE HOT DOG MEAT. (I don't even know if you can call it meat.) How can anyone eat slimy spaghetti out of the carcass of a punctured hot dog!!!??? I need to lie down.

source

Now that I feel very woozy and almost certain that I offended at least some of you (i still love you if you are a big alternative hot dog fan), I will leave you with my favorite kind of hot dog, and call it good. Presenting, my hot dog named Candy:

not good for eating. but GREAT for cuddling.

Green Redemption?

For those of you who are following the Drama Class soap-opera-esque storyline, there has been a new development! (And if you haven't, you will probably be super confused so read about it here.)

I've been managing to blend into my drama class pretty well, even making a few friends and such, and so far keeping off the panic attacks that come from the thought of performing in front of a crowd. (which I have to do next week, kill me.)

i approve this message as it applies to drama class.

Last night, we had a substitute teacher because our professor was sick. Things were going well, even though she called on me to come up and showcase a drama technique. Luckily, it was miming. So all I had to do was sit on the floor in front of the class and pretend to be hiding behind a gravestone. (I know. weird.)

But then, half-way through the night, she began talking about the whole color scheme thing. I guess it's a drama-teacher obsession, because she was all into the colors too.

And then I heard the words slip out of her mouth: "Is anyone in here a GREEN?"

I felt all eyes turn to me. My heart began racing and my face grew a little hot. It was at this moment that I realized I was wearing a green sweatshirt. DANGIT.

I raised my hand. "I am!" So much for everyone forgetting about that horrific first day.

The substitute professor said, "So am I! I'm so green it's not even funny. So I get ya girl. What did you think when you were taking that test?"

I weighed my options: honesty? or brown-nosing?

Honesty: "I was pretty skeptical. And I thought it was dumb."

She said, "Yup. You're a green!"

So now, I'm just more confused. But I feel like I am pretty tired of being labeled a green. Although at least this time the professor was on my side instead of telling the whole class that I was a social leper, and my classmates don't really hate me.

But still,

Wednesday nights will be the death of me.

The Return of the Cave.

Long, long ago (last school year), I had an awesome/ funny/ chill roommate named Anne. Anne and I bonded very strongly over something: we. hated. the. cold. weather. with. a. passion.

And so, when the bitterly frigid winter winds crept into Provo, Anne and I took refuge in our room. More specifically, in our beds. You see, even our apartment was cold, and we both owned heated mattress pads (Anne purchased hers after I testified of their necessity), and on most days, there was nowhere we wanted to be more than tucked away warmly in our beds. (except Hawaii, which is where Anne transferred, the lucky dog.)

human toaster oven. essential of life.

So night after night, we'd come home from school and work and activities and social outings (we weren't total hermits, mind you), and promptly hop into our beds and crank our mattress heaters up. We'd do our homework there, we'd talk across the room from our beds, and we'd often tuck ourselves in and watch shows on Hulu into the night. Our apartment was on the first floor, but it was actually underground, therefore our bedroom was in the basement and only received minimal light.... even at high noon when not a cloud was in the sky. (Seriously, that place was DARK. You could not see the sky from the window.)

This is what became known as "our cave."

It was how we survived the winter, all tucked away in our dark, cozy lair of a bedroom.

The seasons changed, and Anne started school at BYU-Hawaii, where she now lives near the beach and is probably way warmer and tanner than she could have ever hoped to be. And I lived in Provo all summer when the weather was perfectly warm, and then started the Elementary education program in the fall, becoming busy and bustling and productive every single day.

My bed became but a distant stranger.

But, alas, the winds of change blew again, and the mercury began to drop, the mountains began to turn white, and my schedule became less busy (as I finished with two of my seven classes). I began to find myself with more free time than I could have dreamed of. It began with 8 am alarm clocks and early, productive mornings, but as the mornings became darker and the days became colder, IT somehow happened.

IT HAPPENED.

And I want Anne to know about it. What happened, you ask??

THE RETURN OF THE CAVE DWELLING.

Welcome to the place I now prefer to spend all my free time:

no need to make the bed anymore, I climb into it so often...

At least this time my "cave" includes a large window with plenty of natural light to go along with the comfy sheets and plentiful pillows!

Please don't judge me: I am cold ALL the time. And I just wasn't made for cold weather. Or, you know, using my time to accomplish things.

ha. ha. ha.

p.s. I wrote this post sitting in my bed. At 3 pm. ha. ha. ha.

10 Things I Enjoy More Than Moving

10. getting cavities filled.

9. sitting at the DMV.

8. getting blood drawn.

7. writing research papers.

6. painfully long car trips.

5. eating ramen noodles.

4. running. and I really hate running most of the time.

3. getting rear-ended.

2. bronchitis.

1. pretty much anything in the world.... besides moving.

Conclusion: having to move into a new apartment is the hardest thing ever. Console me.
Conclusion 2.0: I am a total drama queen and I need to get over it.

Have you had to move recently? If so I am giving you a virtual high-five for your survival.

Lost Posessions Paradise.

Somewhere far, far away, there is an island surrounded by bright blue, shark-infested waters.

No human has ever reached its shores alive, though many have died trying.

The beaches are sandy and warm and the palm trees sway lazily in the calm breeze. Coconuts fall gently into the sand and the birds sing beautiful melodies as the peaceful tide rolls in and out.

And every day, a large white ship with gleaming smoke-stacks splashes its way onto the shore to deliver its precious load : millions of eager bobby pins, chapsticks, and socks from homes worldwide.

Meanwhile, their friends across the globe slip slyly through open windows and into air vents and down pipes when their owners aren't looking; they head for the shore to catch a ride onboard the ship that will take them to the faraway island.




Every bobby pin dreams of the day when they will sift through the warm sand instead of enduring their lot in life: being shoved into the ponytails and dirty bangs of girls 'round the world. Every chapstick imagines the salty ocean waters and warm sun as it is smudged against cracked lips day after day. And every sock reminds it's spouse that one day, they will no longer be subjected to smelly feet and sweltering shoes; when the time comes, he will slip away while tumbling in the dryer and promise to send for her later.

These essential personal possessions endure the drudgery day by day, but they are plotting, they are planning, they are hoping. And one day, they will slip away, unseen, and head straight for the island of bobby pins, chapsticks, and socks to live out their existence in balmy bliss, never to be heard from again.

This is really the only explanation I could come up with for why those dang things are constantly disappearing. I've decided it has to be true.

Amy's Riveting "Bandaid" Metaphor.

The rumors are true. I'm back in Utah. The long-awaited for day arrived, a week ago, to move back to my beloved Provo. But it meant moving away from my even-more-beloved Las Vegas.

The day after I arrived, I was talking to one of my best friends on the phone and we agreed: one of the hardest things about college is transition. You never want to leave where you are. You don't want to leave college life when its time to go home for a while. And then you don't want to leave home when its time to go to college for a while. But it's so good for you to go through that. You learn to make home wherever you are. You learn to make your friends your family when you don't get to see your family anymore.

And then I came up with the metaphor: leaving home is like ripping off a bandaid. (Sorry is that gross? Too bad, its my blog baha) You have to do it sometime. Its healthy for you to take off (otherwise your skin gets all pruny... yuck). There comes a time when it has to happen. You know its gonna sting a little, and it does, but then you are okay. And then you are totes glad you ripped off the bandaid!

And on your first ever solo six hour drive to Provo, you see a guy hitchhiking right next to a "Prison Nearby, Don't Pick Up Hitchhikers" sign. And then you see a lady walking a pig on a leash by the side of the freeway. A PIG!!!! And you jam to some awesome mix CDs that your friends made you. And you move into your apartment with only the few belongings that you packed into your little sedan. (okay, not that few...)

ready to hit the road... wearing a Jimmer shirt, duh!
I Jimmered that drive.

And then you accidentally drop your phone down a staircase on Father's day and it smashes. And you cry. And then you get an even better phone. And you start your classes and you freakin' LOVE them. And then you really don't feel well for an entire week... so you cry. But you realize that you have friends here and you love all the opportunities before you. And you are comfortable in your home away from home, and you love it. And you're happy you ripped off that bandaid.

That metaphor got a little out of control there. I apologize.

But for the record, I really did see a lady walking a pig on a leash.

And that is all I have to say.

A Heart-y Facebook Rant.

This post is about facebook hearts. You know what I'm talking about: those cutesy little alligator brackets eating the number three ( <3 ) that magically turn into real hearts on facebook when you hit enter (♥). Little hearts have never really been my style, but they have their place on facebook and can be totes adorb on statuses like:

"I love my family so much, they are the bombest family ever, love you family!! ♥"

Or maybe "I just got engaged to the love of my life, OMGGG! As soon as he gets out of prison we will be wed!! ♥ ♥ ♥"

Or even, "Today was the best day ever. I went to walmart, snuggled with some pigeons on the sidewalk, and then ate some nachos. I love my life. ♥"

I mean THAT works. But that is not the kind of facebook heart I am talking about in this post. No. It is not.

This post is about what I like to call "irrelevant emotion-invoking hearts." (I lied, I just coined that phrase, but let us call them IEIH's for short.) Trust me, you have seen these all over facebook.

These hearts usually show up after one word, or a short phrase of words. The important thing to note is that these words never incite any feelings of sentimentality or tenderness or love at all on their own. Ever. At all. Words like: taco bell. Or maybe fungus. Or polka music. Or lamp shades. Or maybe just the name of a celebrity you have never before heard of in your life, like Snorfus McDundlefiffer. (I just made him up, but let's just say he is a prominent thespian in certain agricultural regions of Scotland.)

But the point is, these words PLUS a tender little heart, somehow makes it POETRY to the facebook world. It doesn't matter what it is, if you put a heart next to it, EVERYONE WILL LIKE IT.

My little sister willingly offered up this post from her facebook as the perfect example. she is such a gem. yes I call her baby sometimes. and yes we both recently went to the beach.

I do not understand this. I am leading a revolt against irrelevant emotion-invoking hearts. (Remember, IEIH's for short. I'm going to make badges.)

But the fact of the matter is, those darn little hearts somehow make that status cute and sentimental. Observe:

taco bell ♥

fungus ♥

polka music ♥

lamp shades ♥

Snorfus McDundlefiffer ♥

See??? Suddenly I am brought to tears thinking about this person's tender experiences at a nearby Taco Bell. Maybe she met her soulmate while on a taco bell run? And maybe she just made her mother's favorite stuffed mushroom recipe and the familiar aroma of fungus is bringing tears to her eyes? Maybe the staccato oompas of the tuba in polka music reminds her of her late grandfather and how he would play the tuba for her as she drifted off to sleep? And maybe she was caught in an unlikely gun battle in a furniture store and her life was saved by putting a lamp shade over her head and standing really still!??!? Perhaps Snorfus McDundlefiffer really is the most talented and deep actor in the universe and we just don't know it yet!???

I DON'T KNOW. All I am assuming is that the word or phrase must be unquestionably tender for that person for her to put a heart next to it! Either that or they are just using hearts recklessly and trying to generate emotion where emotion is not and that's.... that's just not right.

IEIH protesters unite. I'm going to start a campaign on facebook. Regulation of hearts needs to happen people.

It needs to happen. ♥

(see how tender that made the last sentence? told you so.)

How do you feel about excessive hearts on facebook? Are you guilty of the crime?

JUST IN: Do you want to try it out?? Post an irrelevant status on facebook with a heart and tell us all how it goes in the comments or email me a screen shot at amyn2217 at gmail dot com!

To read more of my observations about facebook, check out The Facebook Friends We All Have and Facebook: Bringing out the stalker in all of us. Or don't. Your loss.

Psych!! -ology.

I'm kind of competitive.

I say kind of, because it really just comes and goes. Some days, I don't get too upset if I win or lose a game of ping pong or scrabble, but other days, I will flip out if I lose. Sometimes I even make up random challenges for myself. Kind of psychotic? Who knows.

Speaking of psychotic, I'm in a psychology class right now (last general to finish, holla!) and this morning I had to go participate in a 2 hour research study for credit in the class. I dragged my sorry little butt out of bed and walked to the lovely Taylor Building up the road, sniffling all the way with the cold that is slowly, but surely, coming on. (Who thought it was okay for it to snow in April, anyways?)

I couldn't have cared less about this study. Really.

this picture makes me crave smoothies.

I walked in, and after being sent to different parts of the building by misinformed secretaries, I went into a room with a researcher and filled out an hour-long questionnaire on a computer that made me over-analyze every aspect of myself and wonder if I was, in fact, more a terrible person than I ever thought.

Have you ever lied to someone? Uhh.. yes...
Have you ever done something you knew was wrong? ......Shoot. Yes.
Have you ever become so angry that you yelled? .... yup....
Have you ever done something that later filled you with guilt? Ok, ok! I AM A TERRIBLE PERSON, I get it!!

Then I watched a ten minute video of fish swimming around in the ocean. I think it was supposed to be relaxing, but I spent the entire time wondering if it was a trick and a shark was going to pop on screen and scare the heck out of me.

Then, the researcher explained that he was going to play audio of a string of numbers, and I had to add them in groups of two as it went along, adding the newest number to the number before it and so on. Its harder than it seems peeps.

2.. 5...(seven!)..3...(eight!). 4...(seven!).. 2...(six!)..9..(eleven!)..5..(fourteen!)...7... (twelve!)..

But all in my head. Each run through was going to get faster and faster, until I barely had time to speak in between numbers. Also, he was going to take my blood pressure after each trial, and he told me the study was to research stress and pressure to achieve or something like that.

Something clicked inside me (maybe it was the dayquil?), and I decided I was going to beast this freaking study and WIN it.

So, using my ten fingers and every cell of math ability in my brain, I pounced on every single math test, yelling out numbers and and frantically trying to remember the number that came before the one I just said. I messed up a lot, but I kept going, desperate to prove that I was a math genius.

Then, as he took my blood pressure, I tried to magically bring my blood pressure down through the powers of my mind and through deep breathing.

I just HAD to win the low-blood-pressure-high-math-ability challenge!

I felt like I did pretty well, and wondered when I would find out if I won or not. Then I walked out and realized: You cannot win a psychology study.

This is a fact.

But I still kind of want to practice that math thing and go try again to see if I do better.

Well, I better head to class. I hope I win the stepping on every leaf challenge as I walk. Don't get in my way fools.

This week calls for a sugar coma.

Yes, in fact, I am moping about my room alone on a Thursday night, too burned out to pick up homework or even look at the enormous To-Do list that has been growing all week and completely kicking my trash.

Yes, dear readers, I did have plans to go to a play tonight for credit in one of my classes, for which I sprinted in and out of the Wilk between commitments earlier today to buy a ticket, and walked all the way back to campus in the cold tonight, ticket tucked safely in my pocket.

Yes, I did arrive early, only to find that my ticket was missing, following which I retraced my steps all the way back to my apartment and then halfway back to campus, finding no trace of said ticket anywhere.

Yes, there is a half gallon of cookies and cream in my freezer and I intend to utilize it.

Some people choose to get drunk, I get sugared out of my mind. And then fall asleep early.

Happy trails!

photo courtesy of Dell Webcam and brewing insanity explosion...

Love Triangle

So much angst. And confusion within my soul. Who knew falling in love with two different men could be so painful?

Guys. Its like I'm living in a soap opera.

I have promised my love to my soul mate David Archuleta, but then I keep watching BYU basketball and Jimmer Fredette is slowly stealing my heart....

I've always had a crush on him... but now its something more...

His cut biceps.

His confidence on the court.

The way he can't stop laughing when his dunk goes awry.

His humility.

His adorable smile.

Not to mention the 47 points he scored in yesterdays game and this 40 foot shot on the buzzer:




I was planning to just be in love with them both, but my friend Kelsey informed me the other day that I need to make a decision between the two!!!

How could I possibly decide? They are both so irresistible in their own way!!

David rocks out righteously and has the soulful voice of 4,000 angels.

Jimmer can shoot 3 pointers from a different zipcode.

David has an adorable face and is an all-around cutie pie.

Jimmer is a BEAST ATHLETE.



David is kind of short....

Jimmer can jump like no ones biz...

Well, its just not fair to compare the two. They both have their own talents.

But right now, Jimmer definitely has my heart.

Sorry David.... I hate to say this but, we need to take a break. We need to have time to explore, and maybe see where we are in a little while, maybe after basketball season?? Its not you. Its me. And Jimmer.

Tune in next time to see what happens in the love triangle between Amy, Jimmer, and David on:

As the World Turns Boldly and Beautifully with the Young and Restlessly In Love who are Generally Hospitable...


I need to go to bed and stop eating sugar...

Robert Frost is my homeboy.

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

-Robert Frost

Robert Frost is totally my homeboy. I know hes being figurative, but sometimes I feel like my world is ending when it looks like this outside:





Don't call me a drama queen. My hair froze into icicles this morning and I'm not okay with it.

The Day I Met David Archuleta: THE SEQUEL

Oh hey.

Yeah. I met David Archuleta today!!!! Again. So I guess my plan is to just go get his autograph as many times as it takes to get him to fall in love with me. Great plan, huh?

Proof.

The CD signing was at this little store in the mall and it wasn't even crowded, but the security people were CRAZY. They wouldn't let anyone stand within like a 20 foot perimeter of the store. They told me I couldn't even take a picture of David. But I did anyways. Gotta be a rebel sometimes!

Those ladies around him meant business...

Had to take a pic with the sign because I didn't get one with him. LAME.

Thanks to my friend Marci for inviting me to go along with her!!!!

I wasn't even nervous this time. It was like I was just talking to some boy I knew. He's a really chill person. But I didn't really say anything that interesting in the 10 seconds I had to talk to him.

How exactly is a girl to convey in a few sentences that "Hey! I'm a fan of yours and I think you're really cute and humble and we are actually the same age and have a lot in common, and I'm a fairly normal person and not a 12 year old fan like these other crazies and I think we should hang out sometime and possibly get married for all eternity" ??

What I really said:

Hey how are you? Good? Cool. Thanks so much, have a good one!


This marrying David Archuleta thing is harder than I thought.

A Cruel JK

Just kidding.

The world still hates me.

We didn't even get into the David Archuleta/ Motab concert last night. Along with hundreds of other people. It was over-ticketed. Too many tickets given out for too few seats. Talk about a crummy week.

David was very heartbroken that I wasn't there. Also, that's a broken heart, not something eating his neck.

There is one last chance... one remaining hope.... for me to cheer up and get out of this slump of grumpiness....

I AM GOING HOME TODAY!!!!!

As long as we don't get stuck in another blizzard/ the world is attacked by aliens before we get there.

PLEASE WORLD.

PUH-LEEEEEEESEEE give me this one.

Or else I will become permanently emo. And these people don't come here to read emo. They come here to read funny. They come here to read about Kesha and me getting shanked in laundry rooms.

I promise to recycle more often if that helps.

Thanks world.

Love, Amy

Thanks for the Backup Hometown!

I really hate the cold. And now it is DANG cold here.

I seriously feel like curling up into a little ball and sleeping all day under 18 fuzzy blankets when it is freezing cold outside. I want to cry a million tears when my face is numb from walking home. A little part of my soul dies with every snowflake that falls.

What do my friends at school say when I whine and complain?


"Oh, its not that bad."

"You're just being dramatic!"

"Its beautiful, you just have to appreciate it!"

"Cry baby."


What do all the people in my home ward say about the cold when I visit Las Vegas?


"Oh you poor thing going to school up in the cold!"

"Snow is the worst! I hope you're keeping warm!"

"I bet its so nice to come home away from that awful cold weather!"

"You're so brave, I don't know how you do it!"


I always knew I loved Las Vegas people the most. Thanks for keeping it real hometown peeps!