With Wandring Awe

You would think that the Lord's House would be the one place I would be immune from awkward moments, but apparently God gives us agency and lets us be as embarrassing as we please wherever we want to be.
This past week Annalee and I decided to join the ward choir.  Why? I have no clue.  According to the roomies I have a coffeeshop voice (No idea what this means, but it reminds me of Phoebe from Friends singing Smelly Cat in the Central Perk. Ha.)?  So let's just assume that singing is not my forte.
This Sunday was our ward Christmas program, and so the choir sang three lovely songs between talks. After one particular heart-wrenching talk given by one of my studly FHE brothers, I was under the impression that the choir was going to sing our final hymn.  I get up, walk out of my row, and proceed to walk down the middle aisle towards the stand.  After walking about 15 feet, I realize that no one else is walking with me.  In fact, no one else is getting up out of their seats at all.  I look back at Annalee and Julie, who are in the choir as well, and notice they are painfully trying to resist from laughing in a silent Sacrament Meeting.  I run back to my seat and try to keep from giggling myself at the whole event.  On the plus side, I walk very well in heels.

--Sadie

Merry Christmas

One particular night my beautiful lady friend Renae asked me to go out dancing with her and I was so down. So I danced and no boys danced with me and so I left.  Who's going to stay at a dance when no boys are hitting this up? when I have sexy lover waiting in my apartment?

Like, I mean c'mon. I'm a sexy beast.

Anywho, I came home and no one else was home.  So I put my hair up and started to wash my makeup off. I was scrubbing my face down with my rough towel and then I had that tight feeling in my bladder.  It was like "ooh great I have to pee" so I did what any other sane person does when they have to use the restroom. I undid my pants.

I had finished. But let's face it. I'm a lazy woman.  Just straight up I put everything off. Procrastination to the point where I didn't hook my belt and rebutton my pants. What's the point? I'm at home.

...then a horrifying knock on the door.

I thought, "okay, just look through the peep hole" I figured that it was just a room mate that had forgotten to bring their key with.

So.. I look. And there's a dozen people, half girls, half boys. Boys.
They had their backs turned, and I couldn't tell who anyone was.  "Haha," I thought. "I had just misheard the knock on our door for someone else's apartment. They're facing 2211" and I started to walk away.

Then a phrase that made the angels in heaven cry for me: "we see your shadow through the crack in the door, open up!"

So I thought... "Well, maybe it's Jessica and a bunch of her friends, there was a girl with straight brown hair.." and I open the door.

Ba-da-bing, ba-da-boom, Christmas carols are being sung to me. My face makeup-less, red and splotchy from my rough towel.  Hair up.  Pants undone. 

I suavely and without drawing attention started to awkwardly button my pants and put my belt on in the shadows of the hall in my apartment in front of these boys and singing girls. To no avail. 

God bless us, everyone. Merry Christmas.

Bun Cake

About a month ago on a Sunday afternoon my roommates and I were in the kitchen making dinner and one of the girls from a neighboring apartment knocked on the door. We all shouted a friendly “COME INNNNN” like we always do when someone comes a knocking. She came in the kitchen and asked if any of us had a Bundt pan. Me and my roommates must have simultaneously had the same thought cross our minds because we all immediately started mimicking Tula’s mother “bond-t" cake scene from My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Someone even exclaimed, "There's a hole in this cake!" Our neighbor was a little surprised, and I think we were too. I love how we are all awesome enough to be able to quote something that amazing at the same time =)

Here's the actual scene from the movie:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WPvO53JHnmY

The Joker

So I was walking home from the Creamery on Halloween night - by myself- and suddenly a car on the road passing me in the opposite direction swerved to get dangerously close to the sidewalk where I was walking. The window was rolled down and just as the car passed me this guy dressed up as The Joker (from Batman) stuck his head out the window and laughed like a maniac. His face was actually really close to mine and so it was really frightening! He had all the face make-up on and everything. At first I was really freaked out, but then I decided that whoever these people were, they were pretty awesome.  =)  

-Cass

Giovanni and Catherine

 I name things. I think it is a natural need that humans have. However, something interesting happens once you give an object a name. It takes on human characteristics. 

 I had two swim bags during high school. The first was a bright purple duffel bag, named Phyllis. I loved it, and used it not only as my swim bag, but my book bag. Phyllis grew to hate my very being because of the extra weight. Very shortly into the season, she ripped her strap from me. No matter how many times I had it sewed or tied, she, like a bitter shrew, would destroy it in spite of me, achieving the awkward and uncomfortable result of making me carry her with her short handles everywhere. She also liked to trip me, wrapping the useless strap around my feet when I would get out of my desk. She grasped onto edges and corners of doors, tables—whatever she could wrap her cloth around, anything to slow my progress throughout the day. 

The second bag I got was a ridiculously large ivory and purple duffel bag. I named it Billius, mostly because it rhymes with Phyllis and one of my best friends hates Ron Weasely (Billius is his middle name).  Billius, thankfully, never despised me. He was just the clumsiest fool ever. Walking off of a bus, the poor dear couldn’t help but bump into the seats, sometimes even the people in the seats. He, bless his seams, got in the way of everything. Both have now retired into the depths of my closet. 

 Anyways, this past week at work, my coworker and I finally named our vacuums. It’s been four months, and we finally got around to it. Italy is to my coworker, what England is to me, so we decided to give one an Italian name, and another one a British name. We stared at the larger of the two, and eventually, the bright yellow cord (bright because we clean it once a week) started looking more and more like a large, heavy gold chain necklace.

 Keep in mind, we are both running on very little sleep.

She dubbed it Giovanni. Giovanni’s floor takes roughly 45 minutes to vacuum, an hour if it’s really messy, and as he and I worked together to clean, I couldn’t help but start to see him less of an it and more of a he. Eventually, when I looked at him, his appearance reflected that of a fat, greasy, balding, heavily jeweled Italian man. When the squeaking got on my nerves, I mumbled to him that he was a squeaky, squeaky vacuum. As he refused to pick up the fringe from notebook paper and the remnants of fall tracked in, I murmured that he was a lazy man, and needed to suck it up, and do his job. The squeaking seemed to get louder in protest. I swear I could almost see him do the stereotypical hand motions of Italians.

Now, every time I take his handle, I swear he is curling his lip, and scowling. 

                

My awkwardness with vacuums has only increased. Some (Giovanni I’m speaking to you, Catherine is the perfect example of what a Vacuum should be, silent and efficient. The British slogan, “Keep Calm and Carry On” comes to mind when I think of her cooperation with getting the job done. You are a slimy, sneaky hoover.) Vacuums and I disagree, which leads to made up conversations in my head with the inanimate object, which is not so inanimate anymore. 

  I wonder if I'm crazy.

  

 Moral(s) Of the Story

-Naming something gives it power, sometimes to interrupt your sanity

-Be careful what you humanize

-Custodial work is beginning to warp my view of the world.

-One author once said to "write what you're obsessed with", It seems I'm consumed by thoughts of vacuums, as this is my second piece on them. What does this say about my life?

-Annalee

That Time of the Year

We're sending out Christmas cards! If you want one, comment your name and address.

Record Breaker

Today, after attending BYU for 75 days, I finally broke my record and fell on the stairs.  

In previous years, tripping on the stairs has been basically a daily occurrence.  In high school, I literally tripped on every single staircase in the school at least twice.  This includes falling up, falling down, sliding down on my behind, and nearly taking people out with me.  There is simply no explanation to this: I can count steps just fine, my shoes fit perfectly, etc.  The only logical explanation is that I am merely a klutz. I'm used to it.

Here on campus, you would think that after ascending and descending an 80-step staircase everyday, plus living on the third floor, plus having classes on the top floor of every building, I am basically guaranteed to have tripped on at least one of the 300 stairs (on average) that I climb. But by some miracle, I was still standing. 

Today, after having a lovely lunch with my sister, she bought me ice cream.  I was heading to my drawing class, which is up three flights of stairs, ice cream cone in hand.  Walking confidentially  I wasn't looking at the steps as I climbed.  And that was mistake number one.  About halfway up, I went for a lick of delicious Graham Canyon (if you know Creamery ice cream, you know what I'm talking about.). Mistake number two.  Mid-lick, my foot fell just short of the next step. Mistake number three. Three strikes and I was out, literally.  On my way falling forward onto the cement steps, my one free hand luckily reached out, allowing me to gain my balance. Unfortunately, during the jerking motion of the trip, my hand with the cone flinched upwards, shoving ice cream up my face. My (involuntary) reaction to the ice cream nearly up my nose, was this awful snorting sound that resonated throughout the open spaces of the HFAC.  

I got up, looked around, saw no one was watching, wiped off my face, ate what was left of my ice cream, and made my way to class.  

Smooth move, Sadie.

--Sadie

Aww what a pretty girl

Temple Trip and Missionaries

    So for those of you who aren't familiar with Provo or the Mormon culture, well, you obviously don't live in Provo because everywhere you go in Provo, the Mormon culture follows you ;) Anyway, just down the street from our apartment is the Provo Temple, a sacred building for our church (for more info about temples go to this link, Temples). Right across the street from the temple is the Missionary Training Center or MTC, where missionaries go before they travel to their respective places around the world where they will serve. They learn how to teach the gospel and hopefully, learn a few basics of how to talk in a foreign language if they are going to a different country.

    So two Saturdays ago, I walked down to the temple and did baptisms for the dead. As I was walking back, I passed a few groups of missionaries going to the temple. I have this thing where I hate walking past people and not looking at them and stuff. So I glanced up and looked at them. At the same time, I caught the eyes of one of the missionaries. We held gaze for a fraction of the second and then he quickly looked away at the ground, like he wasn't supposed to look at girls anymore since he was a missionary now. It was pretty hilarious and it took all my restraint not to bust up laughing. Poor missionary who was just trying to be righteous and I was being a "temptation" by looking at him haha.

    Anyway, that's pretty much it. Good luck to all the missionaries serving around the world. I'll be joining y'all within the next year!
Julie :)

Of course.

So every Monday and Wednesday I eat lunch at the Cougareat with my best friend from High School. This is great because I always feel awkward eating at the Cougareat by myself because I don't want people to feel bad for me and feel like they should sit by me because that would be awkward too. But this past week my friend had a dentist appointment during the break where we usually eat lunch. I went into the Cougareat hoping that I would find someone I knew in order to avoid any awkwardness. I happened to be texting one of my FHE brothers at that very moment, so I decided to ask him where he was. "Getting food at the Cougareat!" was the reply. A friend to eat with! Huzzah! So we sat down to eat and started talking:
Me: Want to know what would be so awkward? If you were sitting by yourself and someone you didn't know came and sat by you.
FHE Bro: Yeah that would be super awkward! I wouldn't know what to say. Has that ever happened to you?
Me: Nope. Thankfully. I'm pretty shy so I don't know what I'd do.
FHE Bro: It's never happened to me either. I hope it doesn't.

But then sadly my FHE brother had to leave because he had other obligations at that moment. So there I was, alone, with another half hour to kill and 2/3 of my pasta left to eat. I started twirling my pasta around on my fork and looked over to the table next to me. It was empty. I felt pretty sure that I wouldn't be making any new friends today. Of course, as soon as I thought that, I heard a voice say, "Is it okay if I sit by you?"
I looked up to see who the voice was talking to. The guy who's voice I had heard was looking right at me.
"Oh! Sure!" I said.
I started laughing inside. Of course right after I talked about how this would never happen it happened...
We sat in silence for about 3 minutes. I couldn't take it though. It was sooooo awkward. I finally started talking to him. It became less awkward. Then I had to go to class. The end.

The moral of the story is:
Never say never, and learn to talk to people so that there don't have to be awkward silences.

-Jessica 

A Haiku for Halloween

Snow came, Zombies too

Drooling, pale, lifeless were we

Due to lack of sleep 

-Annalee

Wedge-Picker

Since we are now halfway through Semester 1, I figured I would share my most embarrassing and awkward story thus far.  Ironically, it happened in the first week of the year.

Across the way from Tingey Hall, is a boy hall, Fugal.  I pass this building everyday on my way to or from school, specifically by one window on the bottom floor, which is occupied by men I know from back home.  

One day, I was walking home from the gym wearing my not-so-honor-code-appropriate-but-okay-for-running shorts.  At an awkwardly short length, they tend to ride up in between my legs when I walk, giving me really uncomfortable wedgies.  When I was nearly home, I stopped and picked the most awkward front wedgie ever.  My gracefulness as a woman was disregarded at this moment in time as I pulled down my shorts.  Immediately after relieving myself, I see movement to my right.  I glance over, and realize I am in plain view of my home-boys window, and yes, someone was shuffling out of the view of the window, as if they were hiding.  I am 90% sure one of them saw this little incident.  I hung my head in shame and walked back to Tingey.  

Coincidentally, the frequency of us seeing each other campus dropped dramatically after this day.  

--Sadie

Awkward Doors and Awkward Freshmen

So I’m Cassidy, I’m from Washington state, and I love college!! I also love pineapples, and the show Psych, and even though there are a bunch of pineapples on Psych, my love of them actually originated from the Upside Down Show, which randomly incorporated the King of all fruits (hence the crown) way before Psych did.  Yeah, I haven’t posted much yet, but it’s just cause I’m super busy. But I witness awkward happenings all the time, I really do (there are almost too many to post). One in particular comes at me daily. And it revolves around the simple act of opening a door. First of all, I’d like to pay a tribute to all of the guys here at BYU who will take the time to open a door for the ladies. It’s great, it’s classy, it’s respectful and it significantly speeds up the time we get to class by about 3 seconds. Some girls may put up their noses at this gallant gesture, arguing that they are perfectly capable of opening a door. Congratulations...now let the guys (who know that you have arms too) open doors for you. Anywaysss, whenever I’m entering or exiting a building and there is a gallant guy (g-guy) just ahead or behind me he will open the door for me and if there is no g-guy, I open the door myself (gasp…just kidding). New Scenario: I’m exiting a building and there are two doors side by side with each other. I open one at the same time that a guy entering the building opens the other one. I am in the process of beginning to step through my door when he holds open his door and gestures for me to walk through it. Uh….You know this is awkward if you’ve had this happen to you. The whole thing happens in a time frame of like 2 seconds, but you still have this internal battle with yourself on whether or not to backtrack and go through his door (he has this very expectant look on his face) or to smile and continue on through your own. I’ve done both, and I’m still not sure which is the best way. I guess there really is no non-awkward way out of an awkward situation. =) (And then there’s also that moment when he thinks you’re still going to go through your door but you haven’t told him that, so you both start to go through the same door…good times.)

Kay, next awkward moment. So one of the first weeks of school me and the roomies went to this dance. It was a Friday night, and we were ready for a night out on the town, (or a night out at BYU). We were dancing up a storm when these three pretty good looking guys came up and started chatting/dancing with us. It was all really well and good until they asked, “So where do you guys live?” I’m pretty sure we all inwardly groaned because we had to answer, “Uh, we live in Heritage Halls.” And then of course they all got funny looks on their faces and said, “Oh, so you’re freshman?” Yeah…two of them almost immediately left and the other one was much more reserved for the remainder of the time he spent with us. Aw, the joys of being a freshman =)

Cassidy Roundy

I'm challenged.

So I kind of half way fell into a crush for this boy here at BYU.

And one of my besties back in good ole' South Dakota asked for his picture, and I only did what any normal girl would do.

I creeped him on Facebook, saved his picture, and sent it to my phone.  
So then I send her this picture right? But then I get no reply.

Dude, like... what the heck? I went through all this trouble to send you this super hot picture, and you don't reply me? At least say he's cute.

BUT THEN I AM ENLIGHTENED. Lo and behold,  I've sent a sexy picture of a male to a boy I know named Matt.

Creeping for Days

If you're wondering if we've Facebook stalked you, the answer is yes, we probably have.

It happens.

That awkward moment when you're in the library and it's completely silent and you decide to read your roommates blog and you read Sadie's post about laughing out loud in the quiet work out room and you start laughing out loud in the quiet library....

-Jessica

Of Karma, Salmon, and Doors

Before I came to College, I watched a funny Youtube video where this guy would hold doors open for people very far away, and then wait for them. At the time, I laughed hysterically at those people who would do that awkward run-walk-skip-shuffle thing to get to the door quicker. How silly they looked, I said. Watch their expressions of panic, I jeered.

 

Well , you know what they say about Karma.

See, there is a little issue at BYU (no, I’m not talking about how most of the cute guys are married). Everyone is incredibly polite. And because of our conditioning, holding the door open for someone is a knee jerk reaction, as inescapable as smiling back at someone.

What I’m trying to say is that I have become one of those awkward running-shuffling-skipping people, that  just a couple months ago I mocked.  

And I’m painfully aware of it. It’s become of those grit your teeth and bear it moments for me. Each time I tell myself I won’t alter my pace, and I definitely won’t say in a much higher, breathless tone, “thank you,” I will be stoic.

In reality, I turn into one of Pavlov’s dogs. When I see a person holding the door, I can’t help but think of how I don’t want to make them late to anything, and how nice (but unnecessary) it was for them to keep it open, and before you know it, my legs clumsily move forward, stuck in an indecisive cross of speed walking and jogging, and that stupid greeting bursts out of me, and then the poor fellow is forced to grunt in reply.  

For some reason, I’ve had other weird dealings with the doors on campus. One time I bumped the Library door with my hip to get it open, and somehow got stuck squirming under its weight, pressed against the frame, and luckily, some poor guy came and freed me before I started panicking. I honestly think he just got annoyed with me trying to wiggle my way through the passage way.

Several times in a particular building, I’ve been hit or nearly hit by swinging doors at class change, and in addition to the startling impact, have been forced to swim upstream like a salmon against the flood of people spewing forth.

The literary being in me can’t help but see these unfortunate experiences with doors as some type of metaphor for my current phase in life. But, as the interpretation hints at being sad, I think I’m just going to continue to blame them on my mocking of those poor people on YouTube.

 

                                                                    Moral(s) )of the Story

-Think twice before you make fun of others.

-Use your hands, not your hips when opening heavy doors.

-Sometimes its better to not think about the metaphorical context of things.

-Before getting your hopes up, always check the fourth finger, of the left hand of an attractive guy.

 

                                                               -Annalee

Men are for Catching

A couple weeks ago, I walked into my room to find Jessica in the most unflattering awkward position any human being has ever been in.  So naturally, I joined her.  This pose was affectionally named our Man-Catching pose (because what kind of crazy man would say no to that?).

Last weekend I was chilling with my sister, and we went over to some boys' house to watch the Avengers (which is the best movie ever.)  The couch was fairly small, and could comfortably fit two people, but since there was limited space in the living room, we were confined to three people on a couch.  The man sharing the couch with me and my sister's friend, Erin, was a little big-boned, which made the whole situation a little cozier.  Before the movie started, I did some serious adjusting, and finally found myself in a comfortable position.  At about the part of the movie where the Avengers assemble in order to take back New York City (and the world), I looked down at myself, and realized that I had been sitting in, none-other, but the Man-Catching pose for the last hour and a half.  Let's just say I got those boys right where I want them...

--Sadie

I Work Out (girl, look at that body)

I, Sadie, am a Sitcom addict.  And as such, any spare time I have goes into watching sitcoms, specifically my spare time spent at the gym. But being in an all-women's gym, where literally every single woman has headphones glued to her eardrums, makes for a pretty silent and eerie atmosphere.  Aside from the squeaking of ellipticals and treadmills, the place is nearly as quiet as Sacrament Meeting in a Single's Ward.  Generally, this silence is very nice- it shows a refreshing focused attitude amongst all those working out.
But for those (me) who like their comedic relief, it sometimes is very stressful to avoid breaking the silence.  Such an experience happened to me last week, while watching the season premiere of the Office.  For those of you who have watched it, Kevin's little turtle-incident was the problem causer here.  My face and body went through an extremely wide range of expressions trying to compensate for the lack of noise.

(Please follow in a clockwise direction if you want this to logically make sense.)

1. Pure shock and surprise at the event that has just occurred. (Namely, Kevin puzzling back together his turtle's shell.)
2. The realization that I am in a completely silent room with girls who would mob me if I bust a gut while on the elliptical.
3.  The I'm-ready-to-burst-with-laughter face, which happens when I remember just how hilarious [Kevin] was.
4. My complete inability to hold it in, A.K.A. the crack: jumping up and down on the machine, arms flailing, smacking my face, nearly peeing my pants.  Also included in this is the silent yet very creepy laugh, which is similar to one I would image a choking hyena to have.

While audibly uninterrupting, I think it is safe to assume that any poor soul looking in my direction would feel very visually interrupted (impaired?).  Which is why I would like to make a public apology to all those who happen to be in the Women's Weight Room at the same time as I am...
So if in the future, you see me working out and acting inexplicably awkward, just remember that as an [Sitcom] addict, I am not always in control of my own body.

--Sadie

Homecoming! (Well, the asking part)

This week I got asked to Homecoming! I'm pretty excited about it. This is how he asked:

It says "Will you go to Homecoming with me?" Written of course, on my favorite thing in the world, Chocolate Milk. :) (Heather, you're going to hate this. Yes, it's the crazy cowboy who asked me.)

His name was written on the top:

Jonathan. The A and N are on the same bottle. Basically I'm just really excited.

This is how I answered:

Under the Y and the S are Symphony Bars which Ty has been wanting for a really long time, but the Bookstore has been out. Luckily they had some today! The E is made of Milky Way and Snickers Bars. Don't worry all of you Honor Code crazies, I didn't go into Ty's room for this. I had one of his roommates, Paxon set it up for me and take pictures. (If anyone is confused right now, his first name is Jonathan and his middle name is Ty, but he goes by Ty.)

I'm so excited! :)






-Jessica

A Lizzy Story. ;)

Once upon a time, in a land far far away, Annalee and I went to the BYU gym to sculpt our already- perfect bodies into an even more perfect irresistable form, but we took this aesthetically pleasing route.  It really was eye candy landscape, fo realz. It was almost as beautiful as our faces. Almost. I really just wrote that so boys will think I'm pretty and date me.

Anyways Annalee was like "hey why don't we run there?"
And ya know, I'm always up for a run, because I'm a runner. So I was like "yes ma'am, we are going on a run whoopdy doodi doo" and if I ran I could just be buff and pump iron for an hour. It's a pretty good deal. And then I started to run but then my jumping bean waterbottle flew out of my backpack. So I just secured it back into my little sack and continued my run but I felt awkward and weird because I was running on campus, with other students, with my backpack bouncing against my back. *

* Okay so those of you reading who don't know me very well, I never feel awkward or weird or stress about anything. Really. It's a divine gift from the heavens. I live a great life.

Well... after pumping iron, we decided to race-sprint back home.  Because honestly, I hadn't run enough and I need to.  It's some intrinsic necessity. Run Lizzy. Runnnnnnn.

People were leaping out of the way for us like they had been sucked into some Schwarzwald Radius. It was frickin' sweet.

So we were sprinting and I was probably about 50 meters in front of my blonde competitor when this person of the male species cheers Annalee on. -- "Catch her, catch her! You can catch her!" Hahaha. He was so attractive (...I think. If you haven't forgotten, I sprinted past him... not much stare time).

That's my dash of Lizzy for the 2210 Tingey apartment blog soup.

And we lived happily ever after.

P.S.

Everyone always notices my hair because I have long dark hair. They end up in pants, laps, shirts, boats, sinks, ehh... the usual. These unfortunate strands have been dubbed "Lizzy hairs" BUT you know just about 40 minutes ago I was brushing my teeth and I felt something in my toothbrush and you know what I pulled out? A blonde hair.

 

-Lizzy

Elevators and Automatic Car Barries

I have two stories to tell you today. The first takes place in an elevator at the Eyring Science Center.

So I had about an hour between classes and needed to work on homework, so I thought I would do it in the ESC. I walked in and thought, "It would sure be fun to take the elevator!" (I only needed to go up one floor.) So I pushed the button and waited for the doors to open. When the doors opened, to my surprise it was full of people and scales! I didn't want to look dumb and leave now that the doors were open, so I hopped in. Assuming that the floor I walked in on was the 1st floor, I pushed the button with a 2 on it. Not wanting to make the situation awkward, I made a little small talk.
"What are you guys doing?"
"We're just doing a Physics project."
"Oh...on what?"
"We're weighing ourselves while the elevator is standing still and while the elevator is moving to see the difference acceleration makes."
The small talk was nice and all, but I figured that by this point I should've made it up one floor. As far as I could tell though, the elevator hadn't moved. And the door was still closed. I stood for a moment in the silence. The people doing the physics project were looking at me expectantly, and I turned to see if I had actually pushed the button. Nothing was lit up. I was a little embarrassed, and I pushed the button with a 2 on it again. Not moving at all, there was a ding and the door opened.
"Weird! I guess I did go up and I just didn't feel anything!" I thought to myself.
"Well, bye guys! Good luck on your project!" I shouted to the people on the elevator as I stepped out onto the....2nd floor?
A guy in the elevator shouted, "Wait!"
But I was already gone. I wasn't going to get back into that elevator and face those people and tell them I had just gotten off the elevator on the same floor that I had gotten on the elevator! That's way to embarrassing! I had no choice but to walk up the stairs to the 3rd floor which is actually where I wanted to be. The only reason I hadn't felt the elevator move is because it hadn't...

Stinkin' BYU buildings that make you enter on NOT the 1st floor.


Now for my second story. You know those automatic car barriers that they have in parking garages and stuff? Well I pass by some of those when I walk home from campus to get to  my dorm. But today as I was walking by the barrier was up and I didn't notice it. Then all of a sudden it came down like...2 inches away from my face! It scared me really badly, and there just happened to be some guy watching who started laughing at me. I felt pretty dumb. And lucky that my face was still in one piece.

Sadie, did you write about when we got hit by a bus? Just in case, I'll tell everyone. Me and Sadie got hit by a bus! It was tragic really. It ran over Sadie's leg, and, since we don't have a car, I carried Sadie all the way to the...Payson hospital. (It's the only one I know directions for.) We finally made it there by midnight but by that point she had lost so much blood that they had to amputate her leg! Luckily for us we were able to catch a bus home that night. Especially because me and Sadie know that it is important to take turns, and it would have been Sadie's turn to carry me all of that distance.

Okay so that's not really what happened...the real story is way more boring. We were walking across the crosswalk and the light for the oncoming traffic turned green. We had almost crossed the street when suddenly a bus starts driving towards us! It was honking too! I hope that it would have stopped for us had we not ran the whole two feet we had left before we were off the road, but it sure didn't seem happy to have to wait for even one second for us to move. It was pretty scary.

The End.

-Jessica

Good Morning Mr. Alarm Clock, How Nice of You To Wake Me

Time management is not a strong attribute of mine. If you ask my parents, they would both groan, and my dad would shape an A with his fingers, and say, “Annalee lives life on the edge, right on the tip of the A. She has no margin of error,” Over the past year, I have become very familiar with his sign, as he would flash it like the bat sign whenever we discussed my flopped attempts to control my life, in his and moms efforts to help Annalee become a Responsible Adult, before I went off to College.  

                Funnily enough, these faults of character have evolved and followed me to College.

The facts are these: I stay up till the early morning hours, and justify hitting the snooze button on my alarm until its way past the time I should get up, causing me to be perpetually late to everything, and having to spend my day chasing lost time. Recently, this mad chase results in me staying up late to finish homework, and so the cycle continues.   

Last night I was too lazy to reset some of my alarms, and so decided that I would just fix them in the morning. So today, as I blearily opened my eyes to the screeching and vibrating of my alarm (in a desperate attempt to fix my sleeping-in issue, my parents bought me an alarm clock that shakes my bed), I reached for it, intending to set it thirty minutes later, and promptly fall back asleep. The second time I woke up, it was to the angry vibration of my cell phone. I opened my eyes to find white cords tangled up around my head. Strange, I thought. I grabbed my phone, and to my horror, saw that my coworker had texted me, telling me what floor she was on. Muttering made up curses under my breath, I tried to sit up to find my blasted alarm clock to check the actual time, and then I discovered that I had been cuddling something in my arms. This is not unusual. I’m a snuggler, and when I sleep I cling to my blankets, pillow, friend or family member, or, recently, Sir Percy—my fuzzy dolphin pillow pet, named after Sir Percy Blakeney from the Scarlet Pimpernel—during the night.

Unfortunately, it was not Sir Percy who I was curled around.

In my befuddled mind, I could not make sense of exactly what it was, other than being a foreign object in my bed.  I studied it curiously for about a minute, before my brain began to work again. It was my alarm clock. My hard, rectangular, too cheerfully blue, plugged in alarm clock that, as I had an up close and personal view of the time, was supposed to have woken me up a thirty seven minutes ago.

       At first, the situation struck me as funny, and I chuckled about it.

      Then, I felt very unsettled by what happened. I slept with the very thing whose purpose was to wake me up, and should have woke me up some time ago. And, on top of this weird paradox, I felt strongly that somewhere, amidst my covers, Sir Percy was staring at me with his black bead eye. 

       Through the rest of my day, I thought about why this bothered me so much. Then, an echo of Shakespeare’s sonnet 55 came to me, “But you shall shine more bright in these contents/ Than unswept stone besmear’d with sluttish time,”

       It hit me then. I had been besmeared with sluttish time! Or in other words, because I fought to control and haggle with time, I, continuously, have been screwed over by a lack of time. This is the cause for my eternal lateness, innumerable amounts of stress, and of course, my slow descent into insanity.

I feel like it should be noted that today I have only gotten two hours of sleep.

 

 

                           Moral(S) Of the Story               

-Shakespeare relates to everything

-I need to go to bed earlier.

 

                                      -Annalee

 

 

We found a keeper

'Nuff said.

The odds are good... ;)

Well...sorry I've sorta been late on the blogging-band-wagon. I'm doing it though so it's all good. For introductions... Hey y'all! I'm a Texas girl, raised in Austin, living in Provo, still missing my Texas:) Real talk- why is it cold already here?!? It's craziness. I don't know how I'm going to survive the winter here...I mean, what is "winter"??? Haha but seriously, I'm ALWAYS cold :P

Anyway, right now, I'm an Electrical Engineering major...yeah I know...weird. But my physics professor summed it up pretty good. When someone in class asked (probably not jokingly either haha) where he could get a date, my professor promptly replied, "Well you know, I've heard from the women that are in Physics and I'm sure in Engineering as well... that the odds are good... but the goods are odd." And...he wasn't joking. I literally go into my physics class and have to sit by a new person every day...and have the same getting-to-know-you conversation. Except, it's worse than usual classes because you're in a class full of engineering/physics/slightly-socially-awkward geniuses. So after that conversation, I literally sit there and wait and see if they will say anything...but they don't...sooo I meet someone else the next day and do the same thing over again. Here it is:

-Hi what's your name?

-Bob

-Cool, I'm Julie. Where are you from?

-California

-Oh that's awesome. That's where my grandparents live. I'm from Austin, Texas.

-Oh that's cool...

[End of conversation]...yep that's the life of a girl in electrical engineering. Don't worry though, I actually have met some pretty cool guys...so girls, just know that the stereotype is pretty true, but don't let it dissuade you. You will have your pick of any guy that you want:) So that's the first awkward part of my life...haha really exciting right? :P

The other awkward story happened when Sadie, Cassidy, and I were coming back from the Divine Comedy Final Callbacks show (shout out to BYU Divine Comedy -------> )
Anyway, on our path back to Tingey, we pass the art garden next to the Museum of Art. We're all talking super loud and laughing about the show when out of the corner of my eye, I see this weird shape next to one of the tall animal sculptures. Sadie saw it at the same and we both do a double take and realize that it's a guy...who looks like he's face forward leaning against the sculpture. We then realize that he's not faced forward to the sculpture, but face-glued to a hidden person somewhere between him and the sculpture. Sadie and I look at each other and struggle not to laugh as we quickly hurry pass them and then burst out laughing, meanwhile Cassidy is looking at us like we're crazy...which we probably are but we're ok with that ;)

So that's my life. I'm living it up here in Provo, Utah and having a great time with my amazingly fabulous roommates... it's also almost 2 in the morning here...haha so goodnight y'all:) Have a great weekend!
--Julie:)

Run and Tell Dat

The other day I had a meeting with my Book of Mormon Professor to discuss my final project (which is going to be awesome, by the way.).  This is how our conversation went:

Professor: "Your name is Sadie, right?"
Me: "Yes."
Professor: "What's your last name?"
Me: "Dodson."
Professor (without skipping a beat, and completely serious): "Are you related to Antoine?"

I immediately started laughing- couldn't even hold it in at all.  So proud my family name has gotten around on such lovely terms-for real.  Let's just say Antoine Dodson is my homeboy, homeboy, home home homeboy.

(And in case you were wondering, no, I am not related to good old Antoine.)

--Sadie

Late Night Conversations

Me and Sadie talking about who knows what in the kitchen late last night.

Me: That's like two years away. I'll probably be married by then!
Sadie: Yeah....I wouldn't count on it.
***a few seconds of awkward silence***
Sadie: Wow that sounded so mean! I'm sorry! I didn't mean for it to sound like that!


Sadie never actually said what she did mean because we both started into a fit of laughter... Oh how I love Sadie and late night conversations. :)

-Jessica

MAKE WAY FOR THE VACCUM

So I’m a janitor. And for those of you who have spent any time with me (or really have seen my old school bookbag/binder/ purse/room) than you are aware of what a hypocritical job this was for me to take. For those of y’all who’ve not had this pleasure, trust me when I say that I hate with every fiber of my being am not a big fan of cleaning or organizing. It’s one of my fatal flaws. Or whatever that fancy literary term is, I’m too tired to think of it.

Tiredness. That’s another lovely aspect of this job. I have to get up at 6:30 every morning (which isn’t all that early, considering poor Cassidy gets up at around 4:30 to clean), but considering the fact that I (and Lizzy) tend to stay up till 2-3, or sometimes (on really rare occasions) even 4 o’clock in the morning, I’m not at a prime mental capacity at this point in the day.

However, it pays well enough and the duties are not difficult, and on Fridays we get a lovely breakfast.  So, for the sake of money and occasional free food, I am basically a walking zombie until noon everyday.

There are certain duties I actually enjoy doing. Dusting for one, I find incredibly satisfying and fun. I enjoy using the ostentatious pink feather duster and running it along tables or edges of windows or cubicles and seeing the huge difference it makes. (And I have, in my sleep deprived state, deliberately freaked people out who were in the cubicles by the vision of a monstrous pink thing running along the top perimeter of their work space) I’m smiling just thinking about it. I like polishing wood—mostly because I like to pretend to spray paint graffiti onto the wooden doors with the white foam. And because said foam smells like oranges.

But, more than anything, I hate vacuuming. I feel like I end up vacuuming the same scraps of paper and crumbs in the same place each morning, which is beyond maddening. The cord always gets tangled up around something, making you stop and free it from its captors periodically. The machine itself is a bulky, uncooperative beast that occasionally has a mind of its own and veers off, bumping into walls, desks, chairs, and etc. But worse of all, is the noise.  When you dust, take out trash, or polish, it is a quiet affair. When you vacuum, it’s as obnoxious and loud as that scene in Aladdin when he makes his big entrance for the King and Jasmine.

 

 

                In my three weeks of experience,  I’ve found there are two responses to this. The Jasmine approach, where, as your vacuum gets closer and closer to that person, they show no emotion and outright ignore it in hopes that you will leave soon and let them be in peace. This is my favorite. It allows me to maintain my daydream so I can forget the fact that I am vacuuming, and hence protect my sanity.

The other reaction is the awkward, “MAKE WAY FOR THE VACCUM!” In which the person sees me stumbling toward their area, attempts to move their stuff out of the way or move out of the way themselves, and as I pass, tries to talk over the roar, successfully forcing me back into reality in order to fashion some sort of coherent reply and endeavor to manipulate my face (which is unresponsive due to my zombie state) into a smile.

This morning was a prime example of this display of misguided politeness. The vacuum I used was especially grating, as in addition to the general growl, it acquired a squeaking sound each time I moved it. On this particular floor I clean, there is an L shaped group of desks; I believe it is supposed to be a help center. Anyways, it’s odd shape and the three rolly chairs and people working at it presents a little obstacle course that I try to avoid at all costs. Luckily, a matt covers the floor area, so I usually just vacuum at the very opening of the L alongside the edge of it.

As I approached it today, this guy who was manning it immediately leapt up, and frantically began stacking the book bags, which were under the desks, onto the rolly chairs, and then he stood back up against one of the desks, looking at me expectantly. I gritted my teeth and headed in, and was quickly reminded of why I avoided this place. The rolly chairs began to slowly move, forcing me to try to simultaneously maneuver this bulky beast in the small area to dodge and then clean the geometric shapes of open spaces of floor. This task was made only more difficult due to the guy's presence, as I was very aware of his gaze watching my progress. The true awkwardness occurred as he gradually kept moving away from me until he had retreated behind a chair, in the corner of the L.

It was at this point, he spoke over the squeaking and the overall ridiculous loudness, saying “Thank you,” with a charming smile. I actually looked at him, and made the unfortunate discovery that he was quite attractive. I panicked and blushed, noticing our proximity in the corner of the L with only the beast in between, ended up parroting him nonsensically, and, worst of all, shuffled backwards out of the L, instead of turning around and facing forward, using two hands to drag the creature out (because the realization of his cuteness flustered my movements, making them unsteady and sloppy).

Moral(s) Of the Story:

-Sleep deprivation causes all sorts of functioning problems.

-Use creative means to liven up boring situations

-Do not “make way for the vaccum”-just ignore it.

-Cute boys should actually be my fatal flaw

 

                                  -Annalee

 

Dishes are for doing

Tonight was a lovely night for me (that is code for I stayed up way too late and have mentally lost it.). First, our neighbor came into our house and asked if she could borrow some toothpaste- or so I thought that's what she said.  She mentioned a few times that it was really random, and I had to admit I thought that borrowing toothpaste was really random.  But I just figured they were out in their apartment, and I promptly handed my toothpaste to her.  Her eyes bugged a little, and then she corrected me, saying that she was asking for toothpicks... 

I could've sworn she said toothpaste.  Nuff said there.  

After the toothpaste incident, Annalee and I decided to crack down and do the dishes.  But she ran out of the kitchen to tell something to Jessica; reflexivly, I grabbed two utensils out of the sink, and I proceeded to charge towards her, my dirty utensils blazing, all while yelling, "Hey! We're doing the dishes here!" Annalee looked at me skeptically and then started cracking up.  And that is when I looked down.  In grabbing utensils out of the sink I had hoped to have grabbed knives, or at least a couple forks.  But no, I was threatening Annalee with a pair of wussy spoons.  Ooooh, terrifying.  

My brain really becomes unresponsive after 10 p.m.

--Sadie

PS- Dishes must only be done while dancing like mad-women, preferably using BYU-approved-not-so-dirty-but-kinda-sketchy dancing.

Also I am a little ashamed that I have the most stories to tell.  I think I win for most awkward person.  Ever.  In Tingey.

Chocolate Milk

Well folks, my name is Jessica. I'm a pretty average Joe...except my name isn't Joe... But the rest is fairly accurate. I have blonde hair and blue eyes, I'm an average height, and I enjoy both playing and listening to music, I spent nearly all my time in high school being part of music groups, but since that is not what I want to keep doing with my life, I am now completely directionless. If anybody just loves their major and wants to tell me about it, I'd be more than happy to listen! The only interesting thing about me is that I was born in Canada. Eh. Sadie is my roommate; her bedspread is Avengers and mine is Cinderella. So our room looks like it is being occupied by "a couple of 5 year old's", as her parents put it. It's probably true but we love it anyways. :) Hopefully something funny will happen to me in the near future that I can post about on here, but in the meantime I'm gonna go drink some Chocolate Milk.

Fresh[boys]

The other evening Jessica and I were picking up a box of brownies at the Creamery for the BYU-Utah game (which we refuse to make comments on).  On the way there, we passed some boys who were clearly freshman.  In passing, they gave us the look up-down, then one proceeded in an attempt to swoon us with a poorly done smolder and a deeper-than-normal-voiced "Ladies". We gave them back a courteous "Hello", which they then followed with a "Catch you around."  There may or may not have been a wink involved in that last line... Freshmen boys- thank goodness for missions.  Gotta love 'em til then, I guess.

--Sadie

Big Wet Mess

You know that moment when you’re sitting at the dinner table, and out of the corner of your eye, you see a sibling struggling to reach across the table for something? And then, once this has been achieved, everything goes into slow motion, and you watch, almost paralyzed as the plate of whatever they wanted  knocks into their glass, and water goes everywhere, creating a big, wet mess.

That’s kinda how my first meeting with my Sunday School co-teacher started off.

The literal big, wet, mess being my lovely roommate, Lizzy, fresh out of the shower, clad only in a towel.

As we walked up to the apartment, this ominous tension seemed to grow and press down on me. On reaching the door, I suddenly had a premonition of the awkwardness soon to follow. Desperately, I thought of how to alert the apartment that a boy was entering. Since I’d been stressing about actually having to teach a lesson for weeks, I could only think of shouting-

“There is a boy here!!!”

Not wanting to make my team teacher uncomfortable, instead, I choose to say, rather hesitantly and loudly—

“Heyy…Lizzy,” using every ounce of my Jedi powers to convey through telekinesis that there was in fact a boy with me.

We didn’t even make it two feet into the hall, until my door swung open, revealing a cheerful, blissfully ignorant half Japanese.

She made it two steps out into the hall, before she saw the distinct shape of someone not female, facing our front door, hands pressed tightly against his eyes.

She yelped, and with her ninja reflexes finally kicking in, sprang back into the room. Her reaction broke my paralysis, and I started laughing. Hard.

Stupidly, I moved in front of the doorway with the intention of protecting her modesty, never mind that my poor team teacher was frozen in place, essentially blind to what was happening. I looked like a cartoon cactus, with my elbows bent at right angles, trying to fill as much space in the door way as possible, and of course, still laughing.

I’m not sure how long we all were like that—Lizzy cowering in some part of the room, me blocking the entrance to our room, and the boy facing resolutely with his back toward us, trying, I imagine, to erase whatever just happened from memory—but finally Lizzy was the first of us to regain her senses, and slammed the door shut.

I called out—“She’s decent, you can turn around,” still stuck in the cactus position in front of our newly closed door, laughing.

I think I laughed off and on the rest of the day.

So moral(s) Of my story:

-Always listen to the Holy Ghost, as he will be sure to save you from uncomfortable situations.

-Make sure to casually inform the roommates when a member of the opposite sex comes over.

-I am not a Jedi, and most definitely do not have telekinetic powers.

-Don’t forget about the door!

-Laughing makes everything better

   
         -Annalee