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, Isprinted 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.
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.
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.
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:)
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.)
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. :)
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
I'm going to introduce myself to new blog - readers who may or may not have ever met me before. My name is Lizzy Sakura Gunn and I'm half Japanese, that explains the Sakura part of my name. I'm one of the 4 South Dakotan freshman here at BYU -- holla to my prairie children! I'm a chemical engineer major and I'm ready to get married and pop out them babies. Hahaha. No. But really. My boyfriend that's about to propose is like my pet potato. I don't have a pet potato. I never sleep. I used to always sleep. Like the summer of 2012 was my slumber bliss, but now that I decided that being in chemical engineering was a great idea and I thought I'd metamorph into my social butterfly self and dazzle everyone with my charming personality and good looks, I end up getting like 4 hours of sleep a night.(WOOoooOOO) Haha actually no really, Annalee (the juicy Georgian peach) and I just sit in our room and Pinterest until we both faint from pinning fatigue. I was cursed the day I was born to have my life be a constant rerun of America's Funniest Home Videos.
I walked around in my apartment half-naked in a towel when a boy was here. Then that boy turned out to be my son in our FHE group. Oh, and some guy overheard me on campus make some comment on me saying my butt was flat, then quoted me on Facebook. We had never met. Then this random guy happened to be my room mate's date. Her DATE.
This boy I know. Okay. So. Like, I sat down next to him and y'know what hot pick up line he used on me? "Hey Lizzie McGuire." *wink* <3 I already think I'm in love.
Friday nights at BYU generally consist of one thing: dances. Complete with clean dancing, "mosh-pits", and 60's swing songs, these dances generally live up to the Honor Code standard. One of the first Friday nights we were here, there was a huge dance called the First Big Thang. Desperate to get myself and my roomies out of the house, we went to get our groove on.
On our way out the door, we saw a mysterious blue light coming from the window of the building next door. In a trance like state, we creeped up to the window and stood outside it for probably a good five minutes staring at the light. And yes, there was someone in the room with the blue light. But using our stalker skills (eyes bugged, pelvis forward, smile with top teeth only... it's a whole system), they never knew we were there.
Once at the dance, we were having an awesome time. Pertinent to to this story, is the fact that when you have a behind that is as plump as mine, you tend to use it frequently while dancing: booty shaking, hip swaying, etc. are all in my repertoire. So during one song, I was joking around and exaggerated my hip swaying just a little bit. Unbeknownst to me, a fellow student was making his way across the dance floor behind me. Needless to say, I butt bumped him pretty hard. Oops. Sorry. Later, I was getting jiggy, and one of the event staff was walking right behind me. I butt bumped her too. Actually, I butt bumped the same girl probably five times during the whole night. Warning: while at dances, I apparently have attributes similar to a horse: get behind me, you will probably be knocked down.
-Sadie
By the way, we met some boys at the dance, who proceeded to tell us they lived in the building next door to ours. We soon found out that they are the owners of the mysterious blue light, and yes, one of the boys we met was the one sitting in the room while we were creeping. He had no clue we were there, which seriously bumped up our credentials as professional stalkers. Too bad that's not a major offered here...
Living in an apartment with 6 girls (who have never lived on their own before) has it's ups, downs, and especially awkward situations. Here at BYU, we have had our fair share. Naturally, as our quote board expanded, we decided that these wonderful stories needed to be shared to the world. And hence our blog was born. Welcome to Tingey.
Love,
Sadie, Lizzy, Annalee, Julie, Cassidy, and Jessica
