Flashback Friday - Cokie

I believe I was destined to be addicted to Coca Cola at an early age.  I mean, my first dolls name was Cokie.  This is not a lie. I can't make this stuff up!

This is me and my doll Cokie up at Grandma Jinny's cabin in Bear Lake.  Now, I wish I could take credit for naming this great doll - but I can't.  Hailey named her.  So, I guess I can now blame my coke addiction on Hailey. Done. Burden lifted. I feel better.

Anyway, I don't remember much about this doll other than the fact that she was my first doll.  Every little girl needs a first doll that she can cherish and remember.  I am just glad I am not like my aunt Becky.  Because no lie, her first dolls name was Diarrhea.

It's like I lost part of my soul...

About two months ago, my phone broke. Unfortuneately, it was 1 month before I was due for an upgrade. And knowing the tight ship Verizon runs, it was not going to be an easy task in getting a new phone. So, after work I made my way over to the local Verizon store, ready to give the first poor unsuspecting sales guy that approached me a piece of my mind.

Luckily for me, the Verizon sales guy passed me off a nerdy tech guy. Fabulous! I can totally flirt with a nerd. Flirt with a hot guy? No. Flirt with a nerd? Easy.

So there I am - flipping my hair, leaning over the counter, laughing at his lame jokes and all of a sudden, I am not just getting a new phone, but I am being allowed to upgrade. Awesome. I should try this more often. I can use my sexuality to get ahead in life.

Anyway, I love my new phone. It's a crackberry, I mean BlackBerry.

Now that you know of the trouble (and by trouble I mean degrading myself by flirting) that I went to obtain this phone, I am sure you can sympathize with me as I tell you this next tragic event that nearly caused me to burst into tears at the Jazz game. I will tell you that it did cause a minor freak out and that it entails screaming, momentary stupidity and a lot of strangers looking at me.

I went to the Jazz game a couple of weeks ago. The Jazz game that we lost. I personally think that I jinxed the Jazz by purchasing and wearing that stupid jersey. But that is clearly another post.

Anyway, so there I am on the 9^th row of the upper bowl pissed that the Jazz lost. My phone was clutched tightly in my hand. Now, my phone came with this cool pouch to protect it when not it use. I had been warned by a good friend that this pouch was going to loosen and sooner or later, would not hold my phone tightly and that it would soon slip out if angled in the right direction. I did not heed this warning. For when a crazy LA fan passed me going down the stairs yelling who knows what, I held up my hand and pretending like I was throwing my phone at him. But in reality, I really threw my phone at him. Because before I knew it, my phone flew out of its protective pouch and went flying down 1 row, 2 rows, 10 rows of people.

And what did I do? I started screaming, “MY PHONE! MY PHONE! MACKENZI, MY PHONE!” Yes, clearly Mackenzi was going to be able to do something that I couldn’t. People were now staring. And do you think I cared? Nope. I just kept screaming. You’d think I just lost a child or something.

Eventually, Mackenzi turned to me and goes, “Nat, just go and get it!” Clearly, this thought had not entered my mind. Yes, yes – that made sense. Mackenzi is so wise. I knew she was my friend for a reason.

I booked it down the stairs pushing people out of my way. And there, at the bottom of the stairs, was my phone - placed nicely on one of those cushy fold out chairs. There was a man standing over it and when I picked it up he goes, “Don’t throw your phone!” I looked at him like he was a complete moron and said, ‘I didn’t mean to throw it!” I wanted to add, "you moron" to the end of that, but I was more concerned with my phone than I was yelling at the mean man next to me.

By some mystical force, my phone came away with only a scratch. I am thinking that my phone might have hit someone first before landing on the ground. And for that, I say "thank you" to whoever that poor, unsuspecting person was. I hope you weren't seriously harmed - only because I don't think the $5/month insurance I have on my phone will cover your hospital bill.

Apparently, I can scream like a 13 year old girl

Last week (or maybe the week before) David Archuleta was in town.  I didn't really care.  Yes, I have watched this season of American Idol. Yes, I think he is adorable. And yes, If I was 16 I would have a mad crush, convince myself that David A and I were somehow meant to be and then enroll myself in school at Murray High. 

Luckily I am neither 16 or a stalker.  Whew! 

I however am 25 and a working woman. I do my best to act like the adult I am supposed to be in order to gain respect from my seniors.  Nevertheless, you wouldn't know that because when my coworker came running up to my desk saying, "David A is at the Gateway and we are heading over - want to come?" I popped my gum, twirled my hair in my hand and said, "OMG, that sounds so fun!"

In all honesty, I thought we would be able to walk right into the AT&T store where David A apparently was, give him a wave and then go back to work.  I certainly underestimated the teenage girls in this state and their ability to skip school - because the Gateway was swarming with pre-adolescent teens.

I of course wore my 3 1/2 inch heels this day and was far behind the rest of my work friends when the screaming started. Before I knew what was happening, I was running like the rest of them. I didn't even know why I was running. 

But then I saw it. The limo that our very own David A was in.  We waited. And waited a little longer.  I turned to see my co-worker climbing the lamp post:

Note: actual shot of my co-worker. I don't make this shiz up.

It was madness.

And then, like the pop star that he is, David A came out of the top of the limo.  The girls went WILD! Honestly, I had a minor flashback to my N'SYNC obsession days.  Oh, what it was like to be 13 and in love with a pop star. Life was bliss!

My group followed the masses like cattle.  I will admit, my camera phone is pretty cool.  It took some fun shots.

 

David drove way, the crowd disbursed and I went back to work. Thanks David A for coming back to Utah. Thank you Agency X for not caring that 6 of your employees disappeared for 30 minutes. And thank you pre-adolescent girls for reminding me how easy it is to ditch school.  Life is good. 

If that's the way it is, I think I'll get a dog

Dear Loyal Readers,
All day today I told myself that I was going to blog tonight. I was even going to write a Flashback Friday post. It was going to be funny. And I was going to get a lot of comments. My blogging life was going to be back on track.

However, since it is 12:09 am and it is the first time that I have had a chance to sit tonight, this post is all you get. My week has been in utter frantic mode and I have been working 10 hour days most days this week - throw into the mix two baby showers and it is only Thursday night. I can't wait to be completely lazy this weekend and do nothing but eat food, catch up on my celebrity gossip and of course, drink an unhealthy amount of coke.

I will leave you with a few thoughts:

1. Why must the smokers in my work building smoke directly on the sidewalk leading to the parking lot? In order to get to my car without harming my healthy lungs, I have to zig and then zag and then zig again - all the while pretending like I have schizophrenia and that I always walk in an abnormal pattern. Get my not so subtle hint Smokers, get off the sidewalk and out of my way.

2. The other day I noticed a young boy, probably the age of about 8, in one of those motorized child Jeeps. You know, those really cool ones that I think every kid wanted but only the really spoiled kids got? Now, nothing really is that abnormal about a 8 year old kid in one of those cars. What was abnormal is that he had his dog on a leash and was cruising down the street. Is this the way kids are walking their dogs nowadays? If it is, sign me up!!! But for me, I will just get in my car, crack open a coke, roll down my window and drive really slow around my neighborhood.

She'll take the small..

So, no flashback Friday today. Only because I am too lazy to look through my scrapbook.

On Sunday, I had stake conference and was done with church by noon. Best thing ever. I am now going to go talk to my bishop and petition to have early church. I have forgotten what life is like to have my Sunday afternoons free. So, since we were done with church, Kenzi and I cracked open our cokes and plopped ourselves in front of the tv ready to watch the jazz game. A very sabbath day thing to do :)

Since the Jazz were losing, Kenzi and I decided to lend our support and so we logged on to Fanzz dot com, ordered us some jerseys and called it a day.

Kenzi was a little concerned about the size of her jersey. They only had a Youth 7 in the Kyle Korver. And yes, she had to have a Kyle Korver. No other jersey would do. What size is a youth size 7? Take a look at this picture:

A youth size 7 is the baby size on the right. We might have laughed for 1o minutes when we saw the size of it. We laughed for 10 minutes more when Kenzi put it on:

Turns out, the size was actually a Toddlers Large. Needless to say, Kenzi returned it for a size that didn't push the girls together.

The next evening was spent watching the Jazz game in our jerseys. It didn't help. We still lost. But at least we were looking good.

Please note the large bowl of guacamole. I am pretty sure Kenzi and I ate about 90% of it last night - and we finished it off after work today.

And I will be able to eat one more day...

The one thing I really hate about working at an ad agency is the fact that all my hours are billable. I hate tracking my hours. I could be so busy that I run around the office looking like a chicken with it's head cut off, and I would still sit down and not know what I did for 8 hours of the day.

I work for some very smart people. Those very smart people must know that timesheet hatred is standard across the industry. Because if by EOD Friday I have all my hours in, this is what I see on my desk Monday morning.

I think of it as my lunch money. Call it bribery. Call it immature. Call it genius!!! I am just so glad I get allowance for being good.