Friends...Everybody Needs Friends

Today's topic is friendship. I remember when I was little we had a movie with a bunch of flowers in them and Rose Petal I believe sang a song about how "everybody needs friends." Once again, the cute little cartoons have lied. Do we really need friends? I don't even believe such a thing exists. I've come to realize recently, that I have never had a "friend".

The dictionary online describes a friend as a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard or a person who gives assistance. Well I have never felt that for one of my supposed friends and I don't know anyone who has assisted me who didn't feel obligated by bloodline.

I have had people I would hang out with while at school to avoid being totally secluded, but if I ever needed those people for assistance, they would not be there to support me. The only people who are there in my life are my family...so I guess they are my friends.

People are only about convenience. If they find any use or benefit in you, they'll be your friend. If they see no use in you, well then suck, looks like you will be one lonely loser.

Walk...Don't Run!

So walking, haven't had the best experiences with it. Aside from the normal tripping and falling that happens whenever I try to place one foot in front of the other, I have been known to walk into posts, poles, mailboxes, mirrors, really just anything that sticks out of the ground. And if that isn't bad enough, I recently had an encounter with the law for my walking habits.

Oh, you want to hear it?

Well apparently they don't joke about walking in Rexburg. I walked with a HUGE group of people illegally across the street to get to my humanities class one day. While I was beginning to cross a female cop instructed me to go to the crosswalk by pointing her witch-like finger. I ignored her, seeing all the people I would be crossing with. Well, she saw this, turned into the parking lot I was in and chased me down in her car and motioned me to come talk to her. Her face was screwed into a permanent angry face (I'll refrain from releasing the foul language filling my head) and she informed me that if I were her, I would never even consider jay-walking. Oh the things she's seen and not to mention the $20 ticket you get for jay-walking. Luckily, I sweet-talked my way into a warning. Let's face it, she only stopped me because I stood out above the rest. I'd like to think it was my beauty, but something tells me it was the flamboyantly pink Hoodie I had on.

Anyways, moral of the story, Idaho sucks the life out of people. What...? You didn't get that from my tale of woe and heartache? :)

Baby...or tax deduction?

So apparently our society requires us to like babies, but alas I can't find a single thing about them that I like. They smell, you have to do EVERYTHING for them, you have to feed them, they cost a lot of money. I mean the only thing I found that's a plus is they are a tax deduction...thus the title. So, I've never liked babies, heck I doubted I liked myself back then.

Anyways, whenever someone has a baby they force their dang kid on you. No matter how many times I say I don't want to touch that dang thing, they throw them in my arms and let go, hoping I'll have the common decency to catch them. Luckily for them, I do. I stand there glaring wondering why I am holding their kid. All the pushy mom has accomplished is to piss me off and hate the kid for what their mom has forced me to do. Weird? Perhaps.

I remember when I entered into the babysitting stage...not a good time for me. It was rough for both the kids and me. Let's just say I only did that for a little while and eventually became busy every time anyone wanted their child watched. Oh how I remember those days....the parents would come home and wander why I'm awkwardly sitting there. One time I was watching Anna, the only kid I've ever liked, and apparently I put her diaper on inside out....way awkward when the parents got home! :)

I'm told one day I'll eventually like babies...I'm yet to see it. One time I had a dream I had a kid and for a whole day after that dream I somewhat liked babies! Unfortunately, I saw none that day, so who knows if I really did, I doubt it.

OH! AND NOT ALL BABIES ARE CUTE! BAM!!!

Luck of the Irish

Today's topic...Luck. Recent events have caused such a topic to be not-so-randomly picked out of a hat.

First, let's discuss the title of this post, Luck of the Irish. I'd like to know what makes the Irish so lucky? I don't get it. Perhaps if I researched even just a little bit about Ireland, shamrocks, leprechauns, really any of that, I would know why they are so lucky. But alas, I refuse to look.

So...I have been told many a time that I am unlucky. Most recently, by Daniel when we were spinning out of control he gave me that look of get out of the car, rabbit (ya know, cuz rabbit feet, lucky....ya). I'm just hoping that no one will catch on and I won't be tossed out of the car carelessly like a $4 keyfinder.

Anyways, so now to the events that have caused me to believe such a thing. Obviously there are too many to describe or even list in one single blog, so I will just use the content from this past week. Aside from the normal awkward situations I am placed in, this week had some exceptional moments. On a cold thursday night, Katie, Tim, and me were walking back from The Hart and there was snow and ice everywhere. I was wearing a tube top (with a jacket of course). Anyways, now that the scene is set...I picked up some snow to throw at Katie and she started running. I obviously began running too so I could catch her. Unfortunately, I stepped directly onto the ice and fell flat on my face. My beautiful white Christmas gloves were ripped and covered in dirt. And my pride took a plummet as well. Of course I got up and ran as fast as I could so I wouldn't have to face Tim. We got into his apartment and spent a good half hour there and headed home, curfew ya know. Well once I got back and looked in a mirror, I noticed something was missing. My tube top had failed me once again! I had exposed myself for a good half hour to an apartment of mormon boys. That is unlucky if I've ever heard it!

Moving on...I dyed my hair recently, and it has decided to take up the beautiful shade of green. Don't ask me how a dark brown suddenly turns to a hideous shade of green. As if being a celery head isn't bad enough in and of itself, all my plans have been ruined. I will be spending Valentine's Day alone in my room...glad I bought decorations and dresses. The room I was to stay in at Britt and Nicole's in Provo has been sold to someone else. I guess I'll be taking up the life of a bum and crashing on their couch.

Instead of "rambling on" as Daniel says, about my life woes...take this from my blog. Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. I am not Irish...hopefully one day I will meet one and obtain the "luck of the irish!"

W.W.D.D.

Who considers what is funny and what is not?

My Dad has always said that everything is funny, but it all depends on timing. I don't know if I really believe that. I know I've heard some jokes that would never be funny no matter who told them, when they were told, or even how they were told.

So, instead of trying to determine what is funny, my family has adopted a new way of thinking. We all look to Daniel to see if something is funny or not. He is the deciding factor, and there's no argument on what he decides. Thus, the title....W.W.D.D. (What Would Daniel Do)

However, in defense of my humor, I'm the next in line to be the decider of all things funny. I already have bracelets made that say W.W.J.D....they just mistaken for different meanings sometimes.

My hair is everywhere...screaming infidelities

Today's topic...hair. This one was actually decided by me, and not picked out of a hat. Recent events have caused me to think of nothing but hair, so it'd only be natural for my blog to reflect what is on my mind 99.7% of the time.

I would like to share the history of my hair, it is similar in context to that of my driving record. First, we begin with color. Well I was born an adorable blonde baby girl, and as the years went on my hair got lighter and lighter. I have several pictures of blaringly light blonde hair, some even glow in the dark, perfect for someone scared of the dark. Anyways, my hair was basically white until I turned oh, I'd say about 10. Then it settled to a nice blonde. Unfortunately, during the dark ages or my middle school career, my hair got darker and darker. Finally, in high school, we took action. I highlighted my hair for the first time my freshman year and it turned out good actually. Of course, once you start highlighting your hair, you can't just stop. So began the skunk ages. My hair would always grow out enough to where I had bright blonde hair everywhere, except my roots, which were a dark blonde. That was bad enough, but it gets worse. Numerous occasions we would stick too much dye on my roots and have a reverse case of the skunk. I would having blaringly bright blonde hair along my roots and the other a darker shade. Eventually I grew tired of the tiger stripe highlights and began dying all my hair one color. The first time I did that we went way too light and I looked like a bleached out bimbo. The next day I dyed it again...which fried my hair, and ended up with gray hair. I was commonly mistaken for the widows in our ward! After being told I was as fake, from my hair to my personality, I decided to dye my hair darker, in an attempt to match it's natural color. Instead, I ended up with a weird light brown color, which wasn't very flattering. My hair did eventually go back to it's natural color but recently I dyed it dark brown. For two amazing days, I had a beautful shade if brown hair AND finally my eyebrows matched my hair! Unfortunately, the beauty was short lived. My hair is currently a yummy shade of green. Every day I have someone making a grab at my hair and throwing ranch sauce on it...celery tastes good with dressing. Yes...I am currently celery top. Similar to carrot top, but less funny. Hopefully in two weeks I will have a professional do my hair and make it a beautiful shade of blonde...cross your fingers.

Now the many haircuts of mine. I went all the way into middle school with never having an actual haircut. My dad, yes my dad, was the one who cut our hair. He mainly stuck to bangs, lets just say I had some short and crooked bangs all the way into middle school. My mom would make those disgusting bangs pouffy and well, it wasn't flattering. My hair Almost went to my butt before I cut it in middle school to my shoulders. I kept the bangs. :( After that first hair cut, I was voted as having the worst hair in a jenga truth or dare game...I feel it has cursed me to always have bad hair. Finally, my sister grabbed the scissors from my dad and I finally had goodlooking bangs. Eventually in the 8th grade I grew them out. Unfortunately, I have a rather large forehead and didn't realize that for a while. I went to high school and eventually layered my hair. It looked good other than the forehead. Finally, as a junior I got bangs again, sideswept...don't worry the pouffy bangs will never make a reappearance! Then, for my senior year I thought a perm would look good. Well, turns out my hair doesn't perm too well...ya, it was a rough year. Now, my sister cuts my hair and I know that the next Jenga truth or dare game, I won't be picked as having the worst hair...well after I fix the celery situation.

Mtv Cribs...they have it made

That'd be the place.....^ ^ ^ ^
Well I was told I MUST write this blog. Heaven forbid I skip one! So yesterday's topic was housing. Well I'll talk of what I know, and that is the "house", by house I mean apartment, that I currently reside in. I live in a 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom apartment. I share this "humble abode" with 5 other girls. I would have to say I have pretty much zero privacy, rarely alone, hair everywhere, and basically this post consists of the complaints of someone who wont be living with 5 other people again.

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

This beholder is known for her cynical viewpoints, so let's see how this plays out.

What defines beauty....

Is it our outward appearance?

Who we are on the inside?

Or is it...That special something that we bring to people's lives?

For the past few nights, Katie and me have watched The House Bunny, which is a perfect example of what people consider beauty to be. The show is about a girl who turned 27 and was kicked out of the Playboy mansion because 27 is way too old to be a bunny. Wow, that's one messed up view of the world. What age is it that we become too old? Anyways, she ends up being a house mother to a soriority. Of course, all the girls in this particular soroirity are "losers", socially awkward, and have no friends outside of the house. They're going to lose their house because no one wants to pledge to their soriority...remember, they're losers. So, the "beautiful" ex-playboy bunny makes them all pretty according to the world's standards, basically they all become her and they get their pledges, make friends, and all the boys want them.

It just goes to show that people will never change. We will always be judged on the way we look, because that is the first thing anyone sees. Unless we start wearing signs that describe our personality, we will always be seen for how we look, then who we are.

Man...sucks to be ugly.