Conflicting messages that clearly have no affect on me

You know those people that put up pictures of skinny supermodels up on their fridge to motivate themselves to workout/eat better/lose weight? Well, I would never do that. If I needed motivation to do such crazy things, I would put up pictures of really obese people to motivate myself to never look like that. Plus, it would make me feel really good about myself. Looking at a picture of some skinny b* would totally give me a complex and I would suddenly be filling a 12-month prescription for Prozac due to my sudden onset of depression.

So, since I am talking about motivating fridge decorations, below is a picture of my two current fridge ornaments.


On the left we have an awesome quote from Elder Dallin H. Oaks about the 3 P's that must exist to make a "Perfect Date". I know, I should totally be embarrassed that I have such a cheesy quote on my refrigerator. However, the fact that I have chosen to display it next to a magnet from Ann Taintor which reads, "She could hardly wait to regret this" - I think it all evens out. I often wonder if these two conflicting messages have any affect on my mental psyche. I would like to argue my point and say that for sure it doesn't. However, the next time that cute boy I've had my eye on calls me to come over and "watch a movie" - I'll ignore the Oaks quote and listen to Ann Taintor. Because really, there will always be a next time. And next time, I'll insist that our get together will be 'planned ahead, paired off and paid for".

I'll make up my own calling if I have to

I changed the layout of my blog because every time I went to my blog I felt like I had to pee. But alas, I still don't like the current template I chose - because well, I just don't. I am half tempted to flirt with the one single designer at my work so he will design me a blog. I would then have to flirt with the one single web programmer to code it for me. I'm considering this.

Rough transition....

I have about the most unfortunate calling in the whole of the LDS single system. Family Home Evening Co-Chair. Seriously, shoot me. I am convinced I was called to it because I never went to FHE - and therefore needed to learn how to participate in ward activities. I have had the calling for about 6 months and every Monday all I want to do is sit home and watch The Bachelor. Back when I was young and stupid, and ran around with young and stupid kids - my friend (who will remain nameless for the sake of this story and who was in fact, smart), was called to be FHE Co-Chair. I laughed and laughed and was grateful it was not me. Friend was smart enough to sign up for a Monday night class at the U in order to get out of her calling. So wise.

Since I have been graduated for almost 5 years I can't really come up with an excuse that good. So, I guess I will wait it out. I'll go to FHE every week and actually try to like it. But when I get released from this calling, I hope for a much easier one in its place. You know, something made up... like Ward Greeter.

Not even the thin hospital gown could hide my embarrassment

Warning: Awkward story below. Nothing graphic - just awkward. This post is about my humiliating story at the gyno. So, if you can't handle a humiliating gyno story, I should tell you to stop reading. And if you keep reading and are uncomfortable, I can't say I didn't warn you.

I am never going tanning again. Well, strike that. I am never going tanning again right before I go to the gyno.

Ok, so since I got all tan in Mexico and am totally vain and waned to keep my tan up, I went tanning last week. Normally, I cover "the girls" because nothing is more uncomfortable than boobs that are burned and peeling. Now, normally I wouldn't care if my boobs were peeling because no one ever sees them. Well, expect for me. And that doesn't count.

So, my boobs are peeling. Again, normally not a problem. But yesterday, major problem. For when Doctor had to give me the boob exam and goes, "oh yea, you're peeling" - I about fell over and died. Literally died. All I could do is laugh and then close my eyes and pretend that this wasn't my life.

I had tried to warn Doctor before the exam started that I just got back from Mexico and that I was peeling all over. However, I also told him I was with my family and hence probably wasn't sun bathing on a nude beach. So really, there was no reason to have boobs that were peeling.

So there it is. I'm never going tanning again. Yep, never tanning again.

Twitter me this...

For months and months I have heard about Twitter. Twitter this, Twitter that. It's all so confusing to me. However, after I practically had an hour long meeting the other day where my boss went off about Twitter and how he "follows" Lance Armstrong, I figured I needed to sign up. My boss can't be cooler than me.


And so I did. I signed up. And now what?

Anyone on Twitter that wants to help me figure how how to add an app to my BlackBerry? Furthermore, anyone on Twitter that I can follow?

If you are still confused at this post and are asking yourself, what the * is Twitter? This is what it is:

Twitter is a service for friends, family, and co–workers to communicate and stay connected through the exchange of quick, frequent answers to one simple question: What are you doing?

It's pretty much one more thing that will keep me glued to my phone. Facebook and blogs just aren't enough, apparently.

And you thought your badazzler only worked on material

Last month I hit up my dad for two Jazz tickets that I could auction off at my ward Christmas party. After I auctioned them off, I went back to him and asked him to give me the other two. You know, just for me. To use. Without donating money.* He gave them to me like any good father would do.

Last night was said jazz game. I brought Mackenzi. No surprise there. Why bring a boy that I don't like when I can bring my best friend and we can laugh the whole night at the people around us? We were lucky enough to sit behind a lady that bedazzled her cleavage. No lie. The chick had meticulous placed a jewel right in the crux of her cleav. Classy.

Kenz and I wore our jazz jerseys to support. During half time when we went to go find healthy food, and by healthy food I mean a greasy pizza and an extra large hot dog, we stopped to enter a drawing. Don't ask me why I did this. I still don't know what I even entered to win. But at one point we were standing there (in our matching Jazz jerseys) and this guy comes up to us and is all, "Can you guys give my friend your autographs?" I look at him and am all, "What?" And he was all, "My friend down there, this is his first Jazz game so can you give him your autographs?" Um, dude, I'm confused?? Kenzi notices my bewildered expression and is all, "Why do you want our autographs?" Dude goes, "Aren't you guys Jazz dancers?"

Um, no. No. NO. And NO!

Seriously? Was it my greasy ponytail or my day old make up that made me look like a jazz dancer? Do tell. Newsflash Clueless Dude, about 1,000 other chicks are wearing jazz jerseys around you. Geez.

And finally, leave it to my dad to give me the best laugh of the night. He happened to also be at the game in his client's seats. When I text him and asked him where he was sitting, this was his response:

Look at the camera in the corner of the court across the court and to your right

Wft?

My response:

Kiddy corner would have worked.

Case in point - never ask a man for directions.


*For the record, I did donate money at my ward Christmas party. I bought a Progressive Spa Package from my friends Justin and Adam. Once I cash in on that prize I'll blog about it. I am sure.

I think I have more gray hairs that she does

As of late, grandma Jinny has made the cut into many of my blog posts. I am sure she feels privileged, embarrassed or pissed. It's totally a toss up. I'll settle for happy and cross my fingers.

Anyway, I realized after a friend asked to see a picture of her that I have only posted one picture of my sweet grandma - and it was a long time ago. And so, without further adu, I give you Jinny - the cutest grandma on the planet. I mean, a grandma that dyes her hair and only comes up to your boobs is pretty cool.




Thanks Jinny for the awesome trip this year! You're fabulous!

I'll post more Mexico pictures later. I'll also write about another fun travel extravaganza that ties last years "Travel Fiasco". Because what would a trip with the Harris family be if it didn't involve running down a terminal with your shoes in your hand and your pants falling down?

I first tried to take a picture on my camera phone

Have you ever wondered what you would do if you ever saw a famous person? Would you be the type to act like they don't exist? Or would you secretly take pictures of them from your camera phone? Or would you walk right up to them and ask for a picture and/or autograph?

Well Internet, I too wondered what type of person I am. And apparently, I am this type:

Katherine Heigl! How can you NOT become the excuse-me-don't-mean-to-bother-you-but-actually-I-do-because-can-I-have-
my-picture-with-you type of person????

Katherine was extremely nice. Her hot hubby even took the picture. This was the perfect way to leave Mexico.

More Mexico pictures and stories to come...

I also read 3 books...

It's been so long since I have logged on to my blog that I had to type in all my information again. Wow, it's been a while. However, I have totally had a good excuse.

I have been doing this:


And this:

And this:

And this:


Oh, and this:

As you can see, I have been very busy. No time to blog at all. I will now collect my thoughts and get some blog posts coming.