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.

Ready...Set...Don't Go

Another misleading title...no I won't be talking about Billy Ray Cyrus and his new "hit" song...but rather driving, or in my case, the lack thereof.

To begin, I would like to share my driving history. It began at a young age of 5 or so, where my Dad would let me steer the car, while he stepped on the gas pedals. Then, it progressed to Go-Karts, where my driving abilities were first exposed. You could say I was one of the reasons they have tires surrounding all the tracks. A few years passed and I was driving a normal sized car down dirt roads...to my grandma's to be exact. Unfortunately, those roads weren't surrounded with old tires. Let's just say a few cars have been left with the wonderful mark of me on them. Not to mention almost running into my grandma's house, which was definately not protected by tires. As the years pressed on, my driving didn't increase much with it. By the time I was 15, I could get my permit, but I didn't. I waited until I was 16 1/2 to get it. Don't ask why. Although, I only missed one question on the driving test, so that's got to stand for something! Could it be that while driving with my permit, I cut off someone and got flipped off for the first time in my life, which then resulted in me almost running over some skateboarders because I became so frazzled. Or was it because when I was driving to Idaho with my Dad, I almost steered the car under a semi carrying all those new cars? Well it took me a little less than 2 years to get my license. Again, dont ask why. I got it when I was 18 1/2, but I did "perfect" on the driving test. Since then, I'm proud to say I've only been flipped off once. Although, while texting I did run off the road. A valuable lesson, I learned I can not multi-task when driving.

I technically own two cars; a Cadillac and a Dodge Intrepid. The Cadillac was supposed to work, but after about 20 minutes from buying it, it overheated and still has not been fixed. The Dodge Intrepid was bought off eBay, yes eBay, and came with a broken engine. A new engine has been bought, all that needs to be done is installing it. So until then, my driving will remain as is. So why do I not get behind the wheel? Could it be that I'm horrible at making decisions under pressure, which basically is what driving is. Perhaps. But I'm gonna stick to saying it's the lack of transportation, rather than the lack of courage. Obviously courage is not my creede.

Invisible

For today, no topic was picked, but rather this one found us. It came at me like a ton of bricks, well if bricks look like the yahoo instant messanger smiley face. I was signing in to my messanger and right below that loveable little smile it read, "invisible to everyone." Interesting how such a happy face is above such a gloom phrase. Anyways, it got me thinking as I was signing in as "invisible"...do people sign into life as invisible? Do they choose not to be seen or does it happen because people are ignorant of others?

I know I have been considered pretty "invisible" at times in my life, but only due to my shy nature. So did I pick to be shy. Did I decide for some insane reason that THAT would be fun?! Just makes ya think.

P.S. when this topic found me...I thought it could be funny! Alas, blame it on fate, not me. I swear Im funny!