What I Got For Christmas

What I got for Christmas was confusion and my period.

Well, I also got snow pants, 6 inch heels and a sweet DSLR camera which I have been dying for since I was a junior in high school. But I'm talking about something else here. A few days before Christmas I got a box in the mail. It was addressed to a one Ms. Daisy Buchanan from a Mr. Jay Gatsby. I of course immediately knew who it was from. It was from a boy.

Inside the box was a plethora of things that made me go "Awww!" He sent me a BYU tshirt and hat, some Stephen's hot cocoa and fry sauce, a Disney coloring book, some souvenirs from the Nauvoo temple, and the Lion House Cakes and Cupcakes cookbook. It was so sweet and thoughtful and Mormon of him.

Do boys send packages to girls they are just friends with?

Something about Gifts.

See, that's a funny title because this post is about Christmas AND my period. So like, Christmas gifts and my "monthly gift." Get it? Haha? Hahaha? No? Anyway. It's the Christmas season and I'm about to make all of you feel at least mildly uncomfortable by discussing essential elements of female reproduction, because that's what Christmas is all about.

It's 2am on Christmas Eve and my period is making its monthly debut. This freakin' blows, you guys, for so many reasons. Because getting your period any day of any month sucks. First of all, I feel like absolute crap. My stomach is upset and my abdomen is twisting and wrenching and cramping and just generally being a drama queen about everything. I also have to pee like every 20 minutes. I don't know why, but it always happens. I'm tired, my back hurts, I have a headache.

Also. It's hard to be in the Christmas spirit. You don't exactly feel jolly when your uterus feels like it's going to fall out your butt. You want to rip someone's throat out with your teeth. You want to go all honey badger all up in here. You find yourself wanting to speed up instead of slow down for pedestrians. Everything everyone says makes you just a little bit more pissed off. It's like shark week in your pants and you're not happy about it.

Not to mention that now I can't wear the skirt I wanted to wear for Christmas Eve. Because it's too tight and shows panty lines. And I am not under any circumstances about to wear a THONG on the heaviest day of my flow, dang it. It's just not smart. So now I'm going to have to find something less attractive and more comfortable to wear so that nobody catches on that I'm wearing my ugly stupid period panties.

Seriously, this is totally the worst. I'm gonna have my period on Christmas and it's totally crap because I had it on Thanksgiving too and like SERIOUSLY, OVARIES?! You know how well adjusted I am with my family so you're just going to screw up not one, but TWO family-central holidays for me? You just thought, "Oh, she's usually so well-behaved around her relatives, I'm sure she won't mind a little menstruation!"??!? Well congratulations, reproductive system. You're ruining my life.

That awkward moment...

...when you say "I love you!" before you hang up the phone with a boy in Utah who you totally DO love but you had no intention of telling him that.

Oh crap.

A non-sanctioned blog post!

I feel like everyone must have a dysfunctional family, at least to a certain extent. Is YOUR family totally neurotic? I feel like my family is one of those Facebook tagging pictures or something. You know, The Arrogant One, The Sweet One, The Sarcastic One, The One With Zero Personality, The Selfish One, The Inappropriate One, The One That Tries Too Hard, The Control Freak, The Smart One, The Annoying One... That sort of thing. (Hey family. Tag yourselves.)

Anyway, I always have a hard time dealing with my family. Because I do love them (most of them). But I feel like if we weren't family, we probably wouldn't even be friends, you know? That's the weird thing about family. You don't even necessarily like them but you're stuck with them because you all share a couple chromosomes or something. I don't know... something like that. I don't know anything about genetics.

But being surrounded by people that you're supposed to like based on social norms is stressful for me. Because a lot of times people are stupid and ridiculous and I don't know what the eff is wrong with them and they just need to get over it already because SERIOUSLY PEOPLE! Large group settings mess with my head anyway.

Except that that's not really true 100% of the time. When I was in Utah, I met Matt's entire family. Like, extended family. 2 of his 3 sisters and 1 of his 2 brothers, and their families, in addition to Matt's parents. And I feel like I could get along with all of them forever. Why am I more tolerant of his family than of mine? Are they just that much more awesome? That can't be it.

Okay, they're pretty awesome. Matt's mom is a judge. Matt's dad is a pediatrician. His sister works for Mitt Romney's campaign and he like... calls her directly. And her two little girls are precious. His other sister is a lawyer. His aunt Kay is the coolest person I've ever met, and she's a guardian ad litem. His third sister is a photographer. Matt is studying photography at BYU. He goes to all his nephews' football games and takes pictures for their teams. His brothers are an architect and... like... the creator of Nu Skin or something. And they ALL GET ALONG. Like really really well. And I got along with all of them too.

Is it that we can't tolerate our own families as well as other families? Is it that I'm more compatible with the awesome Mormon family than with my own? I feel kind of... okay, REALLY guilty about feeling that way. But seriously. They're all like... healthy, wealthy and well-adjusted. It's exactly the kind of family I've always wanted, with a million people that all love each other like crazy. And my family is awesome and cool and usually decently well-behaved.

But seriously. Mitt Romney calls her. That's way cooler than anything we've got going for us.

How you like me now, college?!

I just aced my history exam. That's right. Let's talk about how I just aced my history exam. Actually, let's not because I don't even have that much to say except that I made that test my bitch. And I made my English Comp portfolio my hooker. And I smoked my last speech like weed.

'Kay, that didn't make any sense whatsoever. But I'm just saying that I'm awesome. I got a safe full of cherries cuz I pop it and lock it.

This is my final post that counts for a journal entry, because after this I've met my quota. And unfortunately I have nothing to really say in it except for talk about how freakin' awesome I am. Which is funny because usually I talk about how un-awesome I am. Nice change of pace, from low self-confidence to narcissist in 1 post!

Anyway. Shut up and watch this youtube video.

These pancakes are super thick, mom!

Gets me every time.

Procrastinator.

It's 2:37 am and I'm exhausted but still awake. I have been cramming and frantically writing all weekend and I'm pretty sure this is how 90% of people in real colleges feel quite often, when they have real-college assignments due and real-college finals to study for.

I just finished my portfolio for 2 different classes... Illustrations and Composition. Right up to the wire on both of them... that's my style. The last paper I wrote I finished 30 minutes before class and got a 96%. I spent about an hour on the whole thing. It seems like the less I try, the better I do. That's a horrible life lesson, kids, but it's proving to be true for me.

I put my Comp portfolio on astrobright paper. My revisions are on neon pink. And I mean neon... retina-burning soul-on-fire pink. I figure if they hurt to read my teacher will assume they are okay and give me an okay grade without really reading them because reading them physically hurts. It's genius, actually. Provided it has the desired effect.

My illustrations class was such a fun class. Like insanely enjoyable. I got to draw cute little doodles of kids all the time and I got college credit for it. And that's my kind of class.... doing things I would be doing anyway and then getting credit for it. Why doesn't my entire life work like that? Why don't I get paid to eat food and sing in the shower?

Speaking of singing, I got a part in my church Christmas program. I'm the alto part in O Holy Night. It's a quartet, and we're singing it a cappella. It makes me a little nervous, but I think I can do it. And I was really really happy to be picked. I KNEW there was a reason I went to church today! I almost didn't because I was stressed out.

Now at least I don't have to worry about school again for a little while. Now I just have to worry about finishing a pair of shoes, cleaning the house for company and baking a German chocolate cake in the next 2 days. Swell...

Movie Review: Thankskilling

Tagline: "Gobble Gobble, Motherf*cker."

My best friend and I love campy D-movie horror, so this movie was an obvious choice for us. And it had everything you could ever want in a D-movie horror flick:

1. Boobs

2. Wildly farfetched plot

3. Unlikely villain

4. Wholly un-engaging storyline

5. A slut, a nerd, a jock and a girl-next door character (who die in that order)

6. High school theatre-quality special effects

All that and more are presented in this delightfully horrendous movie. The plot goes something like this: minutes after the first Thanksgiving, a turkey comes after the pilgrims seeking bloody revenge. And then has returned in present times for more bloody revenge. 5 college students are on their way home for Thanksgiving and encounter the turkey, and all hell breaks loose.

The turkey in question is, I'm pretty sure, a rubber hand puppet. The blood looks to be teriyaki sauce and red food coloring. The lines are contrived. The very first scene of the movie features a close-up of a nipple, panning back to an inexplicably topless pilgrim running frantically through the woods, chased by the homicidal turkey. At one point the college students find a book... a field guide to homicidal turkeys of sorts that is written in a math code and can only be deciphered by the nerd of the group. It's oddly specific, too. "The turkey can usually be found in his teepee. If he's not in the teepee, he's most likely killing your friends."

In short, this movie is probably the best worst thing ever.

I will leave you with a line from the movie:

Jock: Looks like I got something you don't, Turkey!

Killer Turkey: What's that Darren... a vagina?

Brilliant.

Suck it, Iowa.

I went to Iowa this weekend and it didn’t go great. My grandmother had a stroke a few months ago and is in a care facility, and we went out to make her a nice Thanksgiving dinner and spend some time with her. For some reason we ended up having brunch instead. Don’t ask me how that happened.

My dad’s family is kind of insane. And there were a bunch of people at this brunch who did not need to be there. One was my aunt’s mother-in-law, who was 90, and one was my other aunt’s mother-in-law who is just... well the first thing she said to me was “And who are you?” I wanted to be like, “Who am I? Hooker, who are YOU?” So she was special. I'm actually kicking myself that my response wasn't "Your worst nightmare, bitch." That would have been timely.

But the 90 year old, Betty, asked about my dad, and then was like, “and you’re a nurse, right?” And I was like, “No, that’s my mom you’re thinking of.” And she proceeded to say, “Oh! I was wondering if you were his wife, but I said to myself, ‘she’s gained some weight!’ so I just wasn’t sure.” Sooooo yeah. Apparently I am fat and old now. Sweeeeet. Apparently being 90 gives you the right to be socially retarded or something.

Then. Later. We go to Chick-Fil-A. Which I love, especially since there isn’t one in Omaha. But all of a sudden I start feeling hot... and dizzy... and nauseous. So I get up and go to the bathroom. And it’s a good thing, because after leaning against the wall of the stall for a minute, I totally puked my guts out. On the dirty floor of a public bathroom. With some Christian pop music playing over the speakers. It was almost poetic. “I raise my hands up to the sky, we’re all in need of Jesus!!” *vomit* So then I was old, fat, AND puking.

And I spent the whole 5 hour car-trip home with my head between my knees trying not to lose it again.

My conclusion? Iowa can suck it.

A Week From Now...

...it will be Thanksgiving. Which, by the way, is an effed up holiday. Here's what Thanksgiving means to me: A long time ago in like the 1600's or something there were these people who came over to America (which wasn't even America back then) on a ship. They landed in what is now referred to as New England. Plymouth specifically. But the "pilgrims" as they were called, who were English, didn't know what the eff was going on and most of them starved and froze to death the first winter there. Then the kindly natives were like, "These people are harshing our mellow," and taught them to plant crops and hunt and stuff and basically to be useful human beings. So the 50 or so pilgrims who survived this whole ordeal were like, "let's totally celebrate up in here!" and threw a jumpin' party. And by "party" I mean they ate squash. And then later they shot the Native Americans who helped them survive, all in the name of irony I'm sure, and took their land. Because they were better than those savages, dammit.

So, being Americans, we feel a moral obligation to distort the CRAP out of true meanings of holidays. So we made Thanksgiving about eating a wildly gluttonous amount of food and then sleeping and watching football for the rest of the day. Isn't that just the spirit of America? A holiday that celebrates back-stabbery, racism, obesity and laziness. U-S-A! U-S-A!

Maybe my cynicism stems from the fact that I just don't like any holidays. Gatherings stress me out and make me hateful because large groups of people tend to be selfish, loud, and wholly irrational. Also, some members of my family are ridiculous and gross and prolonged exposure causes severe snark on part. I was born cynical and I grew into my sarcasm.

Can I please just run away?

I got the haircut from hell.

I payed $103.32 to get my hair cut and my streak rebleached today and guess what I got? 30-year-old virgin hair and bleach spots in my hair. Yeah. BLEACH SPOTS. Because dear, darling Cassie who doesn't know Geometry from Geography (seriously, actually came out of her mouth) couldn't seem to be careful with the bleach. Because apparently it's totally okay to be sloppy about things. And apparently it's okay to not listen to your client at all and do whatever you think will look super-duper awesome.

Hey Cassie? You can suck a big bag of dicks.

And I would have made her fix it, but I didn't know it was bad at the time. Because right at the start I got something horrible in my contact and it fell out and shriveled up immediately. And when you're only wearing 1 contact, you may as well be wearing none. Because you can't focus on anything and it makes you wanna puke. So I couldn't see anything. While I was getting my hair done. MY HAIR. Worst. Timing. Ever.

Now I don't know what to do with myself except cry and wish I was dead I guess. More than usual, I mean.

I'm Obsessed with The History Channel.

No, seriously... Ob. Sessed.

I cannot get enough of History. I mean like for realz, y'all. Ancient Aliens! Mega Disasters! Cities of the Underworld! UFO Files! Jurassic Fight Club! How the Earth Was Made! The States! I cannot get enough. I know, I know, I'm a total nerd. But like... Dinosaurs, Aliens, Space, Presidents. Those are basically all my favorite things. I'm pretty much obsessed with all of it.

I also really like that show Through the Wormhole with Morgan Freeman because mothereffing Morgan Freeman, you guys! I spent my entire day yesterday catching up on all of the shows I had DVR'd in the last few weeks. I watched 3 hours of Ancient Aliens, an hour of Cities of the Underworld about Romania and Dracula and all that awesome, and also an episode of Nostradamus Effect. I'm just like... oh my gosh, so much history!

I know I’m a nerd. But like... that’s what makes me awesome. The fact that I’m a total nerd. I mean, I was at Hobby Lobby the other day and I found a set of unpainted nesting dolls and what immediately came to mind? President nesting dolls. PRESIDENT NESTING DOLLS YOU GUYS. I just have to decide which presidents to use. I need 6. Who were the 6 most influential and/or distinguishable presidents? Washington and Lincoln, obviously. And Teddy Roosevelt. But who else? JFK? Andrew Jackson? Grant? Taft? If I did Taft I would obviously have to make him the biggest one... Get it? Because he was obese?

Maybe I’ll do Obama for one just because... you know... he’s black and everything. And it might make for some nice contrast. I just can’t decide who the most influential presidents were. It’s so hard. But seriously, I think it would make an awesome Christmas gift. Matt would appreciate it.

Oh Gosh, did I just out-nerd myself?

Organize yo life.

I'm trying to organize my life. It's not going great.

It's mostly not going great because I don't know where to start. I'm in need of a serious purge. I need to get rid of 90% of the stuff I have cluttering up my life right now and then begin anew. I just am not entirely sure how to begin doing this. It's become a rather large undertaking unfortunately and there is not a dumpster big enough to make this happen quickly or smoothly.

Here's one problem: I have over 100 pairs of shoes. What I'm wondering is how you STORE 100 pairs of shoes. Most shoe storage shelves are made for a bunch of size 7 flats. This is great, if you wear only size 7 flats. But I wear size 10 stilettos on a regular basis. I also wear knee-high boots on a regular basis. It's basically either boots or stilettos, or Toms if I'm feeling lazy. So how do you store 10 pairs of boots, 30 pairs of stilettos, 8 pairs of tennis shoes, 40 pairs of flip flops and a bunch of other miscellaneous footwear? If you have an answer to this question, you are much smarter and more innovative that I.

Here's another problem: my closet is filled with boxes. Just... boxes piled on boxes piled on more boxes. So I don't have anywhere to store my clothes, which I have too many of in the first place. So it's all this horrendous vicious cycle of mess because I don't know what to do with anything or where to put anything. And Pinterest doesn't help because everyone's dream houses are always so clean and neat and rustic but chic and modern at the same time and I just don't know how they do it.

I'm very frustrated with myself for being so messy. I'm like 4 cats away from being a TV show on TLC, I swear. I don't know what to do with myself! aizehrsgkjvehz;dfiblk HELP ME PLEASE.

A Comprehensive List of Things That Suck, Part 2

I highlighted my favorite ones again.

68. The Federalist papers

69. The word “vaginal.”

70. Taking notes while reading

71. When people give you some searching look, and you ask “what?” and they look away and pretend to be nonchalant and say “oh, nothing.”

72. How when you get a new operating system on your computer, it doesn’t really change anything except the little things you really like. (Yeah, Snow Leopard, I’m talkin’ ‘bout you.”

73. Our stupid unicameral.

74. The word “Stinky.”

75. How when I wear any kind of V-neck I show cleavage and look inevitably slutty, but people with small boobs can wear a shirt with a v-neck to their belly button and it’s ok people you still can’t see anything.

76. Feminine Hygiene Product commercials. (Always stupid, always uncomfortable.)

77. When your lipstick accidentally ends up in the washer.

78. Unloading the dishwasher.

79. The way I actually shed more than the cat or the dog.

80. Cellulite.

81. The way necklaces turn around and you forget you’re wearing them and therefore are walking around with the chain clasp showing like ALL DAY.

82. When your nose really, really itches but you can’t scratch it without looking like you’re picking your nose.

83. Chain emails!!!

84. CHAIN TEXTS!!!!!!

85. When I’m texting and it’s been like half an hour since I sent the text and the recipient hasn’t texted me back so I look at my phone and it turns out I didn’t even send the message.

86. People who use small animals as accessories.

87. Falling asleep in public.

88. My stupid spider fingers.

89. When you’re chewing gum and it’s all gross and flavorless and you desperately want to spit it out but there’s no place to do it so you just keep chewing.

90. When anyone feels the need to call me “Shorty” or “Boo.”

91. Red Pick-up trucks. Seriously, it’s a jerk car. Everyone I know with a red truck? I totally can’t stand!

92. When people call me "kid" or "kiddo." Especially if they're YOUNGER than me.

93. When there are just like, random traffic cones in the road for no apparent reason.

94. When streets don’t have turn lanes!

95. When ignorant people ask if because I’m from Nebraska, I drive a tractor to school. I usually answer “no, I ride a horse.”

96. When people DO drive tractors. On highways. Really slow. Across both lanes. Believe me, it happens WAY more than it should.

97. Rush Limbaugh

98. World of Warcraft- the very idea of it.

99. The way schools are constantly freezing all the time.

100. Smelling like food.

101. When people try to stifle my creativity. (Ex. “No, you don’t need to paint those, they look just fine.”)

102. When people randomly take off their shoes in public. And then their feet smell really bad. That is so not ok.

103. The awful sound alarm clocks make.

104. Highly specific internet polls, and their largely unsurprising results. (Do you know an animal that has saved someone’s life? 97% said no.)

105. The fact that I know all the words to “Womanizer.”

106. Old Men who reckon they’re really good with computers. (They’re not.)

107. Unimaginative newspaper headlines. (“Obama to Give Speech”)

108. Not being invited to weddings I didn’t want to go to anyway. (Ahem, DAD.)

109. Inappropriate-looking sign language that I help but laugh at.

110. The way fat comedians always feel the need to wear patterned suits. (That’s right, John Candy, that means you.)

111. When people read joke books in public.

112. My stupid passport picture in which I look like I’m a bow-tie wearing vampire who doesn’t own a hair brush.

113. Self-righteous religious bigots.

114. Trying to take a photo when your camera is set to video mode.

115. Not knowing whether or not someone is still alive. “Oh yeah. Wait, is he still around?” “…I have no idea.”

116. Crying clowns.

117. When people feel the need to do “the party boy.”

118. Really thin strips of facial hair.

118 and a half. Actually, most facial hair in general.

119. When people think the saxophone is sexy.

120. People who go to Disney World and then act miserable the whole time.

121. Halloween masks and the way they always smell weird.

122. Samuel L. Jackson’s hats.

123. The “Hey, everyone, I got that intellectual joke!” laugh people do at the movies sometimes.

124. The majority of my neighbour.

125. The way Tyler Perry perpetuates stereotypes in EVERY SINGLE MOVIE he makes.

126. Offensive spam emails.

127. Trying to take your coat off in the car.

128. When people squeeze your hand prematurely while shaking hands and you get stuck looking like a weenie.

129. Rebel flags. SERIOUSLY. The south lost the war, get over it.

130. Wine experts who say things such as “On the nose, hints of oak and leather.”

131. People who thing Physical Education is a viable exam subject at school. No, it’s totally not.

132. When people walk really slowly down the street in front of you and they take up the whole pavement so you can’t get by and when you do get by they give you a dirty look.

133. Americans who go abroad and instead of bothering to learn some useful phrases in the local language just speak really loudly and slowly like everyone else is an idiot.

134. America’s Got Talent. Is it named ironically?

135. Guys who think they’re really cool because they’re wearing a visor.

136. Abercrombie employees. I'm sorry your modeling career didn't work out. But you don’t have to be a lazy idiot. And you DEFINITELY don’t need to suggest I layer anything.

137. People who wear trashy graphic tees. “If You’re Cute, I’m Single.”

138. When people step on my toes, especially if I’m wearing fabulous shoes.

A Comprehensive List of Things That Suck, Part 1

I highlighted my favorite ones.

1. When people feel the need to take up two parking spaces

2. Doing math homework

3. Cigarettes, Cigarette smoke, People who smoke cigarettes near me.

4. The colour yellow

5. Cadillac Escalades, especially the pick-up truck ones.

6. Hyenas

7. When people who feel the need to hit, bang, rattle, or pound on the glass at the zoo.

8. People who spit in public on the sidewalk

9. 72nd Street, especially in the morning.

10. Mullets

11. Guys in v-necks or unbuttoned shirts with chest hair.

12. Mustaches.

13. The Kardashians

14. Depression

15. Math

16. Excessive Humidity

17. Excessive PDA

18. People who can't control their children and therefore don't care to attempt it.

19. People who think I'm a stripper (you know who you are, chain-smoking dingo freak.)

20. Unnecessarily loud chewing

21. When people poke me in the side

22. Coffee grounds

23. Insomnia

24. People who litter, especially in view of a waste receptacle (I LOVE the word receptacle).

25. People who feel the need to tell me obvious things, ie "You have huge boobs."

26. When you feel like you're going to sneeze and then don't.

27. Swallowing large pills.

28. When people explain to me calmly that I am going to hell.

29. Small-minded, uneducated, self-righteous school board members.

30. Monday

31. When people unnecessarily use pig latin

32. Windows operating systems

33. People who don't pay attention at stop lights

34. Open-toed boots. wtf.

35. Wind pants

36. People who tailgate me

37. How some metal turns my skin green

38. Losing an earring back

39. People who tell me I shouldn't recycle

40. When people cram their SUV's in compact parking

41. Shopping at the mall

42. Mediocrity

43. When I am the only one in the bathroom and someone chooses the stall next to mine even though there are like 20 other ones to choose from.

44. People who think "Pro-Choice" is the same as "Pro-Abortion"

45. Fox news

46. When a box is missing 1 or 2 crayons and then everything is all loose.

47. People who stick their gum under stuff and then I inadvertently touch it and feel dirty.

48. Alcohol

49. When people feel the need to make names "fancy" by misspelling them. (See Khanner/Conner)

50. That spooky non-Texas, Texas accent that Bush has.

51. Possums

52. When someone's dog poops on my sidewalk and they leave it there.

53. When people are like, "You don't look 18." Well guess what? I'm not. I'm older.

54. The fact that I feel the need to respond to said questions with "That's because I'm 40."

55. When people? end everything? With a question mark?

56. "Knocked Up." Stupidest movie EVERRRR.

57. When people don't know the difference between irony and coincidence.

58. That my dictionary doesn't recognize assface as a word.

58. When people don't get sarcasm.

59. When people tell me to google things. "Do you know how to get a business loan?" "Well, google it."

60. OBX stickers. Overseas, this style sticker identifies where the vehicle is from. Like, we have "Nebraska" on our plate, they would have UK. Then it became a trend in America starting with people putting "UK" on their car, which turned in to all other sorts of stupid, and I kind of want to kill you because there is NO WAY your car is actually registered in DMB (Dave Matthews Band).

61. When people RIGHT in front of you don't hold the door and drop it in your face.

62. Catfish.

63. All other kinds of freshwater fish

64. When people tell me what I want to do or am trying to do is impossible.

65. When I ask a question and people respond by asking how I don't already know. For instance, I’ll ask “How do you play sudoku?” and the person answers “You don’t know how to play sudoku?” If I knew, I wouldn't have asked.

66. When people use the elevator for one floor. Being fat and lazy doesn't count as a disability.

67. Most contestants on Jeopardy because come on, get over yourselves.

Another Sick-Bay Post

Sometimes I sit and draw wedding dresses on scraps of shiny white wrapping paper that my mother uses to wrap wedding gifts, and sometimes I go to bridal shops with a fake engagement ring and try on dresses, just to see what it would feel like to wear one.

Sometimes I look at BYU's website and read their course offerings and majors lists.

Sometimes I put on karaoke music and sing in the shower.

Sometimes I try to make fancy cupcakes 100% from scratch.

Sometimes I photoshop pictures to make my teeth whiter.

Sometimes I spend 3 or 4 hours looking at YSL and Christian Louboutin shoes online.

Sometimes I try to sew stuff that isn't from a pattern.

Sometimes I write things... I've been working on a novel for years.

Sometimes I forget to be an adult and dream like a child. Sometimes I enjoy myself. And then sometimes when I snap back to reality it hurts so much I can hardly breathe because I know that I will never be pretty enough to get married or smart enough to go to BYU, or rich enough to buy YSL or talented enough to really sing or sew or bake or get my work published. Crushing your dreams one at a time is one of the worst feelings.

If I Was President of The United States.

Here's a theoretical diary entry that I wrote because I'm insane.

Dear Diary,

It's a beautiful spring day here in Washington, and I wish I had the chance to take more of a walk than the one from the residence to the west wing. Rod and Michael played outside for a good portion of the day and I did enjoy Michael kicking his soccer ball. He really is daddy's boy, which is so good for both of them. Sometimes I just feel like I'm missing out. I can't really complain though because Rod and I enjoyed a little "alone time" in my private study while Michael was at kindergarten today. Never have I been more thankful that I decided to wear a skirt! We may have rattled a few screws loose on my desk, though. I need to get it looked at anyway.

The budget meetings ran long today, which was brutal. And since this is just between us, the Prime Minister of Israel can be a real dick sometimes. I'm so sick of him patronizing me the way he does. Do you think he called Clinton or Bush or Obama or Romney or O'Connor "dear"? I don't think so. At least I hope not. I don't know why he would call the leader of the free world "dear."

I finally made it up to the residence for dinner tonight for the first time this week. Michael was so thrilled and it made me feel terribly guilty. I need to get to dinner more often than I do. It's been so busy preparing for the summit that I haven't even eaten most nights. Lately I've been feeling rather nauseous. I hope it's just from stress.... otherwise... Oh, I can't even think about it. I would just have to consider myself fortunate that my second term is almost up.

These years have flown by so fast.

No time for nostalgia now. I had better get to bed... at this point I have about 6 hours to sleep which is a welcome night. Provided there isn't a national security crisis. Knock on wood.

With Love,

Kennedy Montgomery

I HATE I HATE I HATE

An excerpt from my journal while I was... sick...

I hate it when you start to make mac n cheese and then you realize you don't have milk so you're stuck with just buttery noodles covered in cheese powder. I hate it when people add you on Facebook and you don't want to be friends with them but you have to so you don't hurt their feelings.

I hate the hospital. I hate how they think painting a big yellow dinosaur on the wall is going to fix my problems. I hate Doodle Jump. I hate people who play the race card. I hate The Barefoot Contessa because she freaks me out, and I don't know why she's barefoot.

I hate it when people give their kids stupid names like Nevaeh and Wingspan and Soliloquy and Reign Beau and all that crazy. And I hate it when people spell regular names like an idiot. I hate Khanners and Cyrahs and Emaleighs and Gennyphers and Jesykahs.

I hate my fingernails. I hate my beaky nose and my shallow chin and my big honkin' boobs and my even bigger honkin' thighs. I hate my weird two-toned eyes and my static-attack hair and the fact that I don't just look like freakin' Catherine Zeta-Jones.

I hate video games and airplanes and how most the time long sleeves aren't long enough for my weird extra-long arms. I hate razor burn and chapped lips. I hate when people wear really bad colored contacts because they're not fooling anyone. I hate it when I bite the inside of my cheek. I hate paper cuts.

I hate my lack of self control. I hate my lack of emotional control. I hate that I am weak and selfish and I hate that I got myself into this awful situation. I hate myself for it. I hate myself for a lot of reasons, including that I hate myself for hating myself.

I hate that this is all I can write right now.

I'm gonna die alone! :D

So I was sitting in my bedroom alone at 8:00 on a Saturday night and I realized that nobody will ever want to date me because I'm a crazy person.

Just kidding. I didn't just realize this. I've known it for quite some time now. But I was thinking that I should try online dating, since only someone who has never met me in person would ever agree to go on a date with me. So I decided to come up with a profile. And I thought I'd share it here first.

Hello! My name is Glory Allegory and I'm looking for the father of my children! To determine whether or not you'd like to impregnate me, here are some things you should know. I'm currently a 20-something student living in my parents' basement. I don't go to a "real" college because I have no real aspirations yet, as all of my career goals are almost certainly unattainable. Also I'm cheap. As you might have guessed, I'm an artist! I also love baseball, the History Channel, and anything that has to do with George Washington. In my free time, I cut myself. I also talk to my cat in weird voices and watch My Little Pony. In a relationship, I bring a sense of humor that can best be described as self-incriminating.

Likes: Cats, Space, Dinosaurs, Geena Davis, Presidents, Baseball, Music that you've never heard of before.

Dislikes: People.

I hope that I've sparked your interest! Let me know if you'd like to procreate with me!!! ;)

Oh yeah.

I'd date me.

The Weather Sucks and So Does Nostradamus.

I've been... sick. Yeah. We'll go with that. Saying any more is both incriminating and complicated.

It snowed today. I hate that it snowed today. Because snow brings the reality of having four seasons right back to spit frost in my face. And I'm not down with that. Not even close to being down with that. Also, with midwestern weather having the flair for the dramatic it does, it thunder-snowed. Where else does that happen?

The fact that I don't control the weather endlessly frustrates me. I heard it was 70 yesterday (I don't know because I wasn't allowed outside) but then it snowed today? Seriously? Here's how it should be: It's 70-78 degrees for 85% of the year. It's cool and fall weather-y for 9% of the year, hot enough to go swimming for 4% of the year and then it will snow on December 23rd about 4 inches, enough to be pretty and play in but not enough to really disrupt life. We will have a white christmas. And then it will all melt by New Year and go back to being awesome until next December 23rd.

In other news, 52 days until Christmas, which makes me feel like the world is coming to an end. But actually, 414 days until the world comes to an end for real. According to the Mayans. And maybe Nostradamus but I'm pretty sure he was full of crap because all he ever said was crytic a-hole stuff like "The sky will turn dark and suffering will rain down upon the earth." Yeah, well, you know what buddy? I can do that too. "Everything will suck." See? I just predicted the future. And I didn't even have to be a cryptic a-hole about it. Suck it, Nostradamus.

Back to Christmas though... I don't really like Christmas. It's all commercial and cheerful. And I mean I'm as cheerful as the next person about the birth of our Savior, I really am. I think it's awesome. But like... I'm pretty sure there weren't gaudy lights and pine trees and jingle bells all over the effin' place when Jesus was chillin' in the manger. The expectation for cheer when there's like a 50% chance of me falling unceremoniously on my face on the ice is absurd. That's rights, beyotches, bah-m-f'in-humbug.

I'm getting nothing but coal in my stocking this year.

...which, seriously, Santa, enough with the fossil fuels. Can we... like... go green already?

Put Your Vagina Away.

Seriously, ladies. Keep that business out of reach, for the love of all things... sanitary.

It's that time of year again... Halloween is only days away. Or wait... did I miss the memo? Did they change the name of the holiday to Whoreaween? Because that is what I am seeing. Everywhere. And I am sick and mo-effin' tired of it... for several reasons.

First of all... what makes you ladies think you need to walk around in lingerie? Lingerie is reserved for delighting your menfolk in the bedroom, isn't it? That's why it's lingerie and not marketed as public attire. It belongs in the confines of you own home... or a strip club. Why are you giving away your goodies for free? Why are you letting it all hang out for the world to see? The way I see it, you are degrading yourselves, girls. Walking around in underwear gives men the impression that you are easy. And it gives other women the impression that you are a sad attention whore with daddy issues. Perhaps you are both of those things. In which case, you might want to consider evaluating your life and where you are at. If you are not those things, why are you okay with letting people think you are? Being too accessible will likely work to your disadvantage anyway. Just ask Planned Parenthood.

My next point I'd like to make is this: if you have to be slutty, AT LEAST TRY! It's Halloween, skank-face, not amateur night at The Playhouse. If you are going to go out in lingerie in public and expose everyone to your lady parts, at least have some semblance of actual costume. It's not a costume if it's just a short red dress, fishnets and glittery stilettos. Are you slutty Carmen San Diego? Are you Paula Abdul? We don't know. You just look like a hooker. Maybe you are a hooker, in which case, be a little more original. It's not a costume if it's a black corset, hotpants and fishnets with thigh-high boots. Are you a dominatrix? Where's your whip? Are you catwoman? Where's the cat part of that scenario? Are you a hooker again? I've just began to assume that 90% of all women dress as hookers for Halloween. At least put on a pair of freakin' animal ears so we know that you understand the holiday.

My final point for this angry, judgmental rant is that I am really tired of seeing people not dress for their body type. Listen, I'm not some hot blonde with a perfect tan and a smokin' bikini-ready body. I get it. But when you've got some serious cellulite cheesin' up your back half, please do not wear a skirt that shows the lower half of your butt cheeks. PLEASE. For the love of all things good in this world, PUT IT AWAY. If you didn't feel like shaving your armpits this month, don't wear a strapless dress. If you wear a 38D, don't try and cram yourself into a 36C. It gives you smashy double boobs and back fat. I am a firm believer that everyone is beautiful in their own way if they just know how to work with it. I know y'all don't wanna see my big ol' size 12 hunk of cellulite butt in a pair of spandex booty shorts so I'm not going to subject you to it. I'm just polite that way. But if you can't pull it off, please don't put it on anyway.

I apologize if I have offended anyone (but like seriously get over yourself) but that's how I feel about Halloween and women. I don't know why you have to be a sexy police officer. Why can't you just be a regular one?

Men, you just wait. I'll tell you how I feel about your dumb behinds later.

ANOTHER Top 10! You're welcome!

Presenting the Top 10 Things that are Motherf-ing Awesome in every way. Ready? GO!

1. SPACE

It's vast, it's infinite, it makes you feel small and insignificant. And there's no gravity, beyotch.

2. Sy-Fi Original Movies

Debbie Gibson, Tiffany, Boobs, Cake, and poorly animated giant reptiles!

3. Abraham Lincoln.

Two words: Emancipation Proclamation.

4. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic

Friendship IS magic, you guys. And Rainbow Dash OWNS.

5. George Washington

G-Dubs is the Father of this Nation. No justification needed.

6. Geena Davis.

Do I really need to explain myself here? She's got legs for miles and is Stuart Little's mom. And she's all feministy and was the President on TV and is really smart and funny and AWESOME.

7. Utah.

This is Bridal Veil Falls in Provo Canyon. Tell me that's not one of the most beautiful things you've ever seen.

8. Backpacks with a variety of pockets

You can fit like everything in there! And everything has its own little place and it's like everything has a home and is all snug and cozy and has a place where it just belongs......

9. Apple Computers

Ever gotten a computer virus? I haven't.

10. Baseball

Best sport ever. Case in point... HOT.

Bonus Number 11. CAKE.

Because CAKE!

I suck at everything normal people are supposed to like... mainly college.

I just looked in the mirror and noticed that it was the prettiest I've looked all day. At midnight. When I'm about to take my contacts out and go to bed. HOW is that fair? I spent all day around thousands of people and now I get home and my face decides to behave? That's some bullsh*t right there.

I went to another football game today! That's 2 in 3 weeks! And both were homecoming games. Not that it makes any difference.... but that's like a lot of college football for me. Anyway... I spent some quality time at Kinnick Stadium today. The game was at 11 which is like... ungodly early for a football game in my opinion... but I still enjoyed it and the Hawkeyes won, which is awesome. (BYU won today too if anyone cares.)

Being in Iowa City really got me thinking though. What if I never end up at a big school? What if I'm stuck in fake college forever? I could have gone anywhere if I had just cared... but then I didn't and so I got stuck here. But what I realized today is that I'm not sure I'd be doing any better there than I am here.

College kids are like... douchebags. Seriously. Everyone was all trashy and loud and drunk and puffing big clouds of smoke all over the place and I'm like UGH seriously you guys?! First of all smoking is like the most inconsiderate habit you can have... if you're smoking in public, non-smokers have to be exposed to it, which we're not down with, thank you so very much. Also they litter a lot and cigarette filters take up to 20 years to begin biodegrading. (According to some girl in my speech class last Wednesday?) Second of all, could you not be sloppy drunk in public? As marginally amusing as it is to watch you fall into the bushes, it's mostly just pathetic and I don't want to see it.

Then there is the issue of dorms. I am one of the most unlucky people I know, so there is like a 99% chance that I would get stuck with a roommate who:

• Collects knives
• Is a serial dater and cries for hours every time someone breaks up with her
• Is a stoner
• Is a slut who constantly wants to "use the room"
• Doesn't have a remote sense of personal hygiene
• Has terrible grammar
• Likes country music
• Is taking one of those parenting classes and has a fake baby that cries at obscene hours of the night for like a week straight

Or any number of other possibilities or combinations. Also with a dorm, you not only have to share a room with another person, usually a total stranger, but you also have to share a bathroom. WITH AN ENTIRE FLOOR OF STRANGERS. I'm sorry, but no. Just... ew. No. Please don't make me think about it. How am I supposed to shave my legs? How am I supposed to perform full length musical numbers while drying my hair? How am I even supposed to dry my hair?! How am I supposed to.... poop?! It's all just too horrifying to comprehend!

The only big school I'd even consider going to now I think would be BYU. Because Mormons don't get sloppy drunk and blow smoke in your face. Real ones don't anyway. I'm guessing the occurrence of encountering either is far less than at other Division 1 schools.

Anyways... That's basically it for now. In summary, college kids suck, Mormons are awesome, I'm scared of dorms and Go Hawkeyes.

We good?

Top 10 of the Week!

Remember when I said I was gonna do that? Yeah... well... tryin' it again.

Presenting the Top 10 People I Would Totally Bang if the Occasion Arose.

1. Zach Galifianakis

2. Kyle Secor

3. Robin Williams

4. Richard Simmons

5. Rick Moranis

6. Dustin Hoffman

7. Jason Alexander

8. Tim Curry

9. Danny Devito

10. Christopher Walken

What? NO I'M NOT SERIOUS! Except for one. I'm seriously about one. Guess which one. He's old enough to be my father but DAYUM. What's the opposite of a cougar?

I've got the magic in me.

Why, yes, I did have a good day today. Thank you for asking.

Seriously, though, today was a lot better than most of my recent days. I think it's because of this t-shirt I was wearing:

How could you not have a good day when wearing a catstronaut t-shirt? You see my point. (I'm not sure people know what to do with me. And I'm not sure if I like that or not.)

Basically everything I touched turned into gold today. Okay, not really. But I did give a really swell speech today. Literally aced it. It was about Mormons and how we're awesome. And I gave it while wearing a catstronaut t-shirt. So yeah... aced it. I also feel pretty good about the paper I recently turned in. And now the whole of my stressful work is complete until I get another load dumped on me. But right now I can relax. Which is such an amazing feeling.

I had a long talk with my neighbor Kymber today about how I'm an idiot. The funny thing about Kymber is that she just has to look at you and you want to tell her all your secrets. Like I pretty much told her all my secrets tonight. And I told her about my crazy bad habits and she listened very politely and kindly and then she told me something that, for some reason, I had never considered before...

I've had maybe 5 or 6 bad days this year. That leaves 360 days when I did it right.

And suddenly... I felt a little better about myself.

Today has been a good day indeed. Now, however, I'm going to go to bed. Kymber gave me some essential oil called serenity and it smells so lovely that I just want to go to sleep forever and dream about warm sunshine and green grass and blue skies and fluffy kitties and prancing ponies........

Sigh.

The Queen of Irony

I haven't been writing my blog posts lately because I have been too busy polishing my crown. Oh, didn't you know? I am royalty. The Queen of Irony, actually. Also the Duchess of Socially Inappropriate Dance Moves.

Here's how I earned my title: This last week after returning from somewhere that shall remain nameless (I think you know), I did something bad that required me to get stitches. Then my everyone got mad and scared and made me stay in the house for 6 straight days and I had to sleep and pee and take a shower with the door open. And I had to sleep upstairs.... and all sorts of other humiliating things that I really just brought upon myself. And while I was sitting there thinking about how I hadn't done anything I was supposed to do yet, it struck me that I didn't even have a topic nailed down for my speculation about causes essay. So I looked to my left... to my right... down at my arms in my lap...

LIGHTBULB!

I think I'll write my paper about self-injury.

Ironic, is it not? So I interviewed my therapist for one of the 6 hours that I talked to her over the last week to use as one of my sources. I tried to make the causes sound legit. Because if I was going to write it about my own personal experiences it would just be like, "I'm sad so I'm gonna wreck myself up. (Allegory 4)"

Aaaaaanyways.... I'm just going to start making fun of myself so it doesn't seem so outwardly pathetic... just pathetic when you stop and think about it. That is my goal in life... to fool people into thinking I'm funny so that they don't stop and think and realize that I'm just sad.

How's it working so far?

Well that's just perfect.

I found this on some website that I don't remember. Anyway, I thought I'd share it.

Guess what the first three words I found were?

Funny, sad and broken.

Sounds just about frickin' right.

Utah Ruined Me.

No seriously, Utah has ruined me forever. I don't want to get out of bed unless there are mountains to see, which there are not. I don't want to do my school work because I got to climb mountains and go to football games and make gah-gah faces at a boy and consume Jamba Juice and ride alpine coasters and see Temples in Utah and all I did was have fun (and fall too deeply in love with a boy I will probably never have).

In all honesty, to be completely 100 percent truthful, I've never felt more at home anywhere else in the whole world. And I've been a lot of places. But I breathed that mountain air and now anything else just feels stale. It's actually a completely horrendous feeling, to finally find where you belong and then LEAVE 4 days later, with no plans to return any time soon. Not to be dramatic, but I feel like everything I love gets ripped away from me. I meet a boy and he leaves for college and Scooters quits making passionfruit smoothies and Blue doesn't have the TNT roll anymore and Commander in Chief got cancelled after one season and so did the Gates and Target doesn't have the healthy chicken nuggets I love and Nebraska just isn't Utah.

I'm finding it really, really hard to care about anything right now. It's sort of horrible. Which is why I feel like this trip was a total and complete mistake. It just made my heart hurt. But at the same time... it was the best 4 days of my whole entire life. For those 4 days I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. Except for on the way to the airport, when I cried for 75 minutes straight, including through security, and listened to "I Will Follow You Into the Dark" on loop.

I think I have a speech due Monday, and I KNOW that I have a paper due for peer editing. But I've been so busy trying to preserve the skin on my arms that I just haven't had the energy to do them. I'm a terrible college student. People are always like, "Aren't Mormons supposed to be, like, really good students?" and I'm like, yeah, we're also not supposed to say SHIT either, so whoops. I suck. Nobody has ever claimed otherwise so don't act so freakin' surprised. So what if I got a 34 on my ACT? I am a chronic underachiever. And now that I'm questioning my life goals and purpose, I'm becoming even more of one. Just deal with it.

I was talking with a friend today and he told me that 99% of people consider themselves above average. I am perhaps that 1% that thinks I'm subpar in every aspect. Sure, I'm probably above average intelligence wise, but I'm a definitely below proficient at using that intelligence to my ability, which makes me of about average intelligence. In the looks department, I might be a 5. Definitely not beautiful. But somewhere north of hideous. The only place I am willing to acknowledge that I might be above average is in the boobs department.

The thing is, though, I'm tired of just being average. I'm tired of not feeling good enough for anything or anyone. And I'm tired of taking it out on myself in unhealthy ways. I'm tired of being a waste of time and space, and of only excelling in one area: parental disappointment. When I was in Utah I felt like I could maybe be someone... do something right. But now that I'm back, I feel like nothing again. Just empty... a shell of worthless nothing.

Stupid freakin' Utah.

I'm in a Better Mood Tonight.

You're welcome.

I've been on Pintrest for the last hour and a half looking at stuff and I inadvertently stumbled upon (not on StumbleUpon though) some pretty b.a. stuff. I've been laughing for about 20 minutes over this:

I feel like as a Nebraskan, I should buy this just to have it. As a novelty item. A conversation piec... okay maybe not. But it does crack my sh*t up.

After browsing a specific blog for a while (this one) I have discovered that I may or may not be totally kitschy. I am sort of weirdly quirky like all this stuff... it all makes me smile. Like this:

Or this:

Or this:

It is all just too delightful for me to stand. I sometimes think I would have belonged in any time period better than I belong in this one. Except for the 30's, because, ya know... downer.

I've cried like 7 times today already...

I think Utah broke me.

It put a short in my circuits or something.

I've cried like 7 times today. I get this horrible sense of dread, I sob for about a minute, then I feel numb for a while and then I'm almost generally okay for a while. It's a horrible cycle. I can't even be funny right now I hurt so bad. I kind of think this whole trip was a horrible idea because now being at home just seems wrong. I feel like my life lacks beauty and purpose now. It was the best 4 days of my life and it was a terrible idea. Everything was so beautiful and it just felt like home. And it felt like a beautiful, wonderful dream being there.

I'm not going to school tomorrow. Something will remind me of Matt or of the mountains or of the wonderful people I met and the sense of belonging I felt and I will dissolve into tears and make a spectacle of myself and my contacts will get all foggy so I'm just not gonna go. I'm too depressed.

Darn you, Utah, for breaking my heart.

Has Anybody Seen My Nobel Prize?

I swear I just had it a minute ago....

So I've been thinking constantly, pretty much obsessively about my trip (4 days!!!) and all the things I need to think about and remember and all that. What I was thinking about today is how I'm going to introduce myself to Matt's family, whom I will be meeting while I'm in Utah. There are so many options... and I have so many concerns. Do I hug them? Shake their hands? Kiss them on the cheek? I'm so concerned about my first impression that I might just pee myself, cry and run away.

Just kidding. For as often as I allude to incontinence, my bladder control really is top notch.

Anyway, here are just a few of my introductory options. You can vote on which one is the best, hypothetical and non-existent readers.

-"Hi, I'm Glory! Oh, these? No, they're not real, I got them for my 16th birthday!"

-"Pleasure to meet you! Matt has told me so little about you that I actually feel really awkward right now..."

-"Hi, I'm Glory Allegory. Yes, THE Glory Allegory. No, no, I didn't bring my Nobel Prize. Next time."

-"Hi! I'm Glory! I really like space. I want to go to space someday. Do you like space? Isn't space amazing? There's so much space up there! You can just be in space forever."

-"Don't talk to me... The Tigers game is on."

-"..." (bursts into tears)

Honestly I'm so nervous that I can't even come up with funny introductions. I'm really stressing out over what I'm going to wear and how I'm going to do my hair and my makeup and what I'm going to say and how I'm going to make them think I'm charming because oh my gosh WHAT IF I'M NOT CHARMING?!

This is a disaster.

[insert brainy quote about ideas here]

I have a new idea. Ready? OK: A weekly top 10 list. Yeah, we'll see how long it lasts... but I think I've got it covered. It's late and I'm really tired because I spent a lot of time trying to understand football today, so I'm just going to jump right into my list for this week.

TOP 10 WORST IDEAS I'VE EVER HAD

(in no particular order)

10. Adding flour to a milkshake to make it thicker

9. Wiping paint off an X-acto knife... with my fingers

8. Auditioning for 42nd Street (more on that later)

7. Writing an entire essay in mirror image

6. A bob with bangs

5. Reading an encyclopedia (a heavy one) to a gerbil

4. Candles on the back of the toilet

3. Wearing a turtleneck for a driver's license photo

2. Pet birds

1.Wearing a strapless bra to P.E.

Ridiculous Speculation, Part II

Really only 2 days until I'm climbing aboard an airplane and heading off to the magical land of Utah! I can't stop thinking about it! No. Really. I can't. It's in my head 24/7. So I'm going to tell you more about what I'm going to be doing!

On Saturday morning, October 8th, I will wake up confused about my surroundings. Then slowly it will dawn on me that I'm on Matt's aunt Kay's couch. Everyone else will likely be awake already and will say "Good morning, sunshine!" and I'll mumble something incoherent and stagger my way back to the bedroom where my suitcase is. I will rifle through it, still half awake, and select something likely entirely too formal for the brunch we'll be going to, but I'd like to make a good impression so I won't really care. Then I'll shuffle into the bathroom with my clothing and my cosmetics bag. I'll set everything on the counter and then realize I forgot underwear so I'll have to go back to my suitcase and get them.

Then, I will attempt to turn on the shower. I'm notoriously bad at figuring out how to turn on other peoples' showers. 50% of the time I have to stumble out naked and wrapped in a towel to the house owner and ask them to turn on their shower for me. They'll roll their eyes and do something so simple that I spend my entire shower ashamed and wanting to die.

After my shower I will likely blow-dry my hair partially. This might be the most important part of my day.

Then I'll go to the obligatory brunch with people I don't know very well, and I'll sit and smile politely in my sweater and be quiet so as not to frighten anyone. Hopefully Matt will come sit by me and play tic-tac-toe with me.

The we'll go back to Kay's house and get ready for Ash's wedding. I'll put on my skirt and sweater and then go stand outside to make sure it's not windy. If it is windy, I'll come back inside and safety pin the inside folds of my skirt so it doesn't catch the wind and I don't flash everyone my leopard print underwear.

Then we'll go to the wedding and I'll make a fool of myself doing the Chicken Dance and Cotton-Eyed Joe and the Macarena and maybe even the Electric Slide. Hopefully they'll also play some Lady Gaga. Then I'll finagle Matt into letting me have his piece of wedding cake. Then I will probably not catch the bouquet because let's face it... who's going to marry me? Then I might cry in the bathroom about how I'm going to die a virgin.

Then, after the wedding, we'll come back to Kay's house and get ready for the Cougars game. I'll try to convince Matt that we should paint our faces like big Y's but he will say no so I'll just do it on my nails. Then we'll go to Lavell Edwards Stadium and watch BYU beat San Jose State and I'll get so excited I'll probably cry.

And that's what is going to happen on October 8th.

My Future Plans

...and by "future" I mean 8 days from now.

8 days from now I'll be boarding a flight direct to Salt Lake City. 2.4 hours later I will disembark the plane and arrive at Salt Lake International Airport. At that point I will probably pee myself from excitement. Just kidding. I'm sure I'll make it to a bathroom in time.

In said bathroom I will put on more makeup, because the stuff I put on earlier probably got sweated off on the plane due to anxiety. I will then run a brush through my hair in an attempt to look less ratty. Then I will practice my cool face in the mirror for a minute before emerging.

I will then walk down the hallway towards my welcome party, which will likely consist of 2 people. The one I am most concerned about is a boy who I may or may not have fallen in love with a few months ago. The other one will probably be his sister, who is cool too. But I'm probably going to drop everything and maybe cry and definitely hug him. And hopefully he will hug me back and say "I've missed you" and I'll say "I've missed you too" and we'll kiss and... okay, probably not. But I have it all built up in my head... and it's going to be glorious.

Then we'll get my baggage. Matt's sister Megan will make a comment about how cute it is and I will say "Thanks! I got it at TJ Maxx! Who would have guessed?" and we'll talk about how much we love the Maxx and then Matt will roll his eyes and be like "Seriously you guys?" and I'll laugh and hug him.

Then we'll go out to lunch at the Garden in the Joseph Smith building, and we'll have this glorious, breathtaking view of the temple and I might cry again and Matt and I might (won't) kiss again (because we didn't in the first place) and it will be so beautiful that I'll make him take a picture of me. And then I'll insist on paying for lunch because that's the kind of person I am. And then we'll hold hands (all 3 of us) and walk around downtown Salt Lake City. And I'll see the temple and I'll be like OMG I WANT TO MARRY YOU RIGHT THERE only I won't say that because it would be scary.

Then Matt will drive us home in his new Mitsubishi Galant and I'll sit in the back seat and talk the whole time about how great I think baseball is.

And that is a basic synopsis of October 7th from 12:25 CST to 3:30 or so MST.

A Catholic and a Jew walk into a bar... the Mormon ducks.

My name is Glory and I’m a Mormon.

Some of you may be familiar with the "I'm a Mormon" campaign. If not, familiarize yourself. People ask me all the time (read: twice, ever) why the church is doing this campaign. And the answer is: Like 80% of the country knows little to nothing about us. They picture us like these weird 80's housewives praying in denim jumpers and mock turtle necks. Now I'm not saying that there aren't some LDS ladies sitting around in jumpers. There are. But I'm willing to venture that most of us aren't. I'm also willing to venture that there are some Catholics and Baptists sitting around in denim jumpers watching The View. We can't help everyone.

My point is, though, that we're not stuck in the 90's. We dress modestly but not out of date. I’m wearing skinny jeans, boots and a belted sweater today. Nobody would know I’m LDS.

Oh, by the way. LDS stands for Latter-Day Saint. Because the “Mormon Church” isn’t actually called that at all. We are the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. A lot of people don’t know that. I’m always baffled when people try to tell me that Mormons aren’t Christians. JESUS CHRIST is like... in the name of our church, you guys. It’s right there on the sides of our buildings.

My best friend was explaining to a British boy once that I’m LDS and he was befuddled by the fact that I had a cellphone and the internet. She had to explain that he was thinking of the Amish, not Mormons. She told him that we had missionaries that had a book they wanted you to read and he was like, “Oh yeah! We have them. But over here we call them Jehovah’s Witness!”

I just have to stop and shake my head at things like that. I’ve heard people say a lot of things about Mormons... everything from, “Mormons are weird” to “Mormonism is a satanic political conspiracy.” I’m always just like... “What? Wait... where did you hear that?” and their answer is always that someone told them so.

Guess what? We’re NOT a satanic political conspiracy! You’re thinking of communists. We’re not communists. Most of us are Republicans. I’M not, I’m one of those backwards liberals. But that’s beside the point. We’re also not weird. Okay, I guess some of us are weird. But that doesn’t have anything to do with our religion. There are weird Catholics, weird atheists, weird Muslims, weird Jews... you get where I’m going here.

Let’s address some Mormon stereotypes.

1. Mormons are Polygamists: Negatory. We aren’t. At one time we were, but polygamy has been practiced in many different cultures. The church denounced the practice of polygamy over 100 years ago. It’s old news. Get o’er it.

1. Mormons have a lot of kids: Some of us do. That’s a choice. Some of us only have 2, some don’t even have kids. We tend to have larger families than most though, because family is a central part of the Church.

1. Mormons live in Utah: We sure do! We also live in Japan, Boston, Alaska, Russia, Spain, Chile, Nebraska, Mexico, Tonga and the UK. Not all of us live in Utah. That’s just where the originals settled. Don’t kid yourself... You can’t escape the Mormons. We’re everywhere.

1. Mormons can’t drink: We CAN. We just choose not to. The Word of Wisdom urges us not to partake in alcohol, coffee, tea, tobacco and other recreational drugs.

1. All Mormons eat is Jell-o and casseroles: I don’t really know why people think this... All I eat is steak and salad. But I mean... why wouldn’t we eat Jell-o? Do you know how awesome Jell-o is? Really awesome.

1. Mormonism is a cult: Cult-a relatively small group of people having religious beliefs or practices regarded by others as strange or sinister. Didn’t all religions start out as cults? I don’t think, though, at 13 million members strong, we can really be regarded as a cult. We’re legit, people. Deal with it.

Okay, here’s my point about all of this. If you want to know more about Mormons, ASK A MORMON! We’ll be straight up about our beliefs. We don’t bite... and we don’t sacrifice babies in the Temple. I don’t know why people would even think that. Seriously. Just ask us. Most of us are pretty cool.

I speak from experience. Because I’m like, awesome.