All the Handsome Men...

That I hung out with last weekend:

Mr. Middle there thought he'd be a pill and not come back for a group photo,

opting to stay with the wedding escape vehicle that we so lovingly decorated.

The one on the end (NOT me) and the ginger...they're married. But feel free to ogle the rest.

Including the Pink Lady by the garbage can, if you so wish.

This guy SHOULD'VE been there, 

but he thought he'd leave the country at the beginning of the year to teach English in Korea.

Silly.

Fun weekend, y'all.

FUN weekend.

Amy's Giveaway!!!

Amy is the coolest. She writes the nicest comments. Plus, Amy likes to write stories.

She has a blog where she posts them: It's called Chapterhouse Lane. Check it out!

She's having a giveaway of some really nice writing materials. If you like a-scribbling, this giveaway is for you!!!

Mess. With. Me.

*snap*

*snap*

(sassy head bob and pursed lips)

*snap*

*SNAP*

(You just got Z-snapped)

"Fun, fun, you know what it is!"

Said Calvin Neal Gibby to the Chester, "You are the only girl with ELEVEN guys. I am sooooo sorry."

Said the Chester, "I'm not."

And yes. 

I got a bed to myself.

The first night.

The Seventh Wheel (sorta)...

Didn't make it to the Top 12 for Blogger Idol, but that's okay. You might as well check them out though! Give 'em love.

Wanna know why I'm not terribly bummed?

I was behind the Top 12 by one point, so I'm tied with two others for a Wildcard entry in case something dire happens and they need an alternate. So as much as I don't want something bad to happen, I want something bad to happen so I can compete. Hahaha. Just kidding Top 12 (but not really). Loves.

Also...

I get to go to St. George this afternoon

with the boiiiizzz for our (mostly their) friend's wedding!!!

Roooooooad trippppp!!

I must pack my bag and bake delicious chocolate chip cookies so that the drivers' tastebuds will be so delighted that it will not even occur to them to ask me for gas money. 

But where does a young lady sleep when she is one female in a group of at least six males? When they booked a hotel room? And they are the only souls she knows at this shindig?

Do I sleep on a cot? But what if the hotel doesn't have a cot? Do I curl up in the bathtub? The car? Heaven forbid, the floor?

Why am I so terribly good at getting myself in these uncomfortable situations?

My Plastic Basin O'erfloweth

The Life Story -- Fred and Trudy: Part II

Fred and Trudy were both super old, twenty-eight and twenty-nine, respectively, or, in other words, on the verge of permanent bachelor/spinster-hood (by Mormon standards). And as such, they wasted no time in having many third-person essay-discussions about marriage, the temple, children, all that good stuff, starting from the second Friday of their dating.

By early November, Trudy recorded in her journal, "This guy likes me too much. I know we're going to get married, but I'm not going to admit to myself at least until December." If there is one thing to know about Trudy, it would be that she is, as they say, "stubborn."

But then again, so was Fred.

So by late-mid November, he inquired as to whether or not she had asked her parents when they could come to Utah for a wedding.

"No."

"On second thought, it's probably not fair to ask them to rearrange their calendar for a wedding that hasn't even been formally agreed on."

"Probably not."

"We had better formalize this; Trudy, will you marry me?"

"Yes."

"Now go call your parents."

To be continued...

Playing Dead...

I watch heaps of police procedural television. As in the CSI and any of its incarnations, the NCIS, the Law and Order: SVU, the Criminal Minds.

And now I know what my dream job is: To play the dead victim on the coroner's table.

I'd be excellent at it, and I'll tell you why:

Years and years of experience.

Nobody, but nobody, is better at taking naps than I am. 

It started back in junior high and high school when I'd be so dead asleep that I'd wake up later to find out that my dad had let me skip class because he thought I needed my sleep. Little did he know that I had been awake when he flicked on the light, but arranged my features into such angelic delicacy that he couldn't bear to disturb my peaceful slumber.

I have honed these skills over the last decade and they have gotten me out of situations when I didn't necessarily want to hang out with my roommates. Plus, have you any idea the awesome things you can overhear if people think you are asleep?

For example, like when a really awkward boy from church comes to your apartment and asks out your roommate, whom you WARNED not to be too extremely nice to said awkward boy because said awkward boy would come to the apartment and ask her out. And look what happened!! And you get to hear the entire conversation, because for all they know, you are just fast asleep on the couch because Sunday lunch was so delicious.

Or how about when your best buddies have you come over for TV Nite (Community, The Office, Parks and Recreation, and 30 Rock--in that order), which is akin to being inducted into the inner circle of a crime syndicate, after you have spent all day moving your crap from one house to the next, and by the time 30 Rock has finished its opening credits, you're almost completely gone, but you're in that place where you're too tired to open your eyes or talk, but you can still hear everything?

"What the hell? Is she asleep? We invite her over for TV Nite and she's ASLEEP."

"She didn't move! She doesn't have a house!"

"She lied and is using us for our couch!"

And because I didn't even crack a smile (even though I was dying to),

that is why I think I'd be an excellent candidate

for faking rigor mortis on camera.

Call me, Jerry Bruckheimer.

Blogger Idol!!!!

I'm auditioning for Blogger Idol as per my friend Marie's suggestion. Apparently, she thinks I'm a good writer or something.

Read more about the contest at Blogger Idol's webpage HERE.

In fact, you can audition too if you want!! 

Here are the RULES and how to TRY OUT.

There are prizes and goodies for the winners, and, most importantly, exposure!! Which is what we all want, right? I know some people think of their blogs as journals and say "my blog is just for me," but let's face it and be honest: If it were really just a journal, we'd be typing it on Microsoft Word or scribbling it in a notebook and never letting anyone see it.

Nope and false. Blogs are for VALIDATION.

You know I speak the truth.

Furthermore, I intend to win. Rephrase. I intend to hope I win something.

I happen to revel in public validation and adoration,

thank you very much! 

*wink wink*

So, if I get chosen to compete, 

and if and when the opportunity arrives,

I hope you'll vote for me!!

Tutorial: How to Eat a Smartie...

You buy a pack of smarties. It looks like this:

image found via Google images

Then you follow my 3-step video tutorial:

I told you I learned a lot at college.

This post is dedicated to Roomie Megs who is getting married today

and who is the one who taught me how to eat a Smartie in the first place!!

Baby Lovin'

Just in case you thought the niecey was getting less cute:

(even my crappy cell phone camera doesn't detract from the cuteness!)

Bold Fringe Giveaway!!

Julie is having another giveaway at Bold Fringe. In case, you didn't know, Julie is a fantastic stylist and I have had the pleasure of knowing her a little bit as far back as the sixth grade. So, if you're looking for some fun hair tips and hair care suggestions, Bold Fringe is the way to go. So click HERE too, if you want to enter!

Of course, if you just want to cover up your nasty mane with a hat, you should probably shoot for a stylish choice such as this one (thanks to the sweet gentleman who let me take a picture of him, and who kindly informed me that you can buy these two for a dollar in Phoenix, Arizona):

I guess you could say I still eat paste (not that I ever did), i.e. Why I snail mail...

In case you didn't know, I love snail mail. I love writing letters. I have stacks of stationary. Boxes of envelopes. Cards from Hallmark. Cards from the dollar store. Cardstock. Stickers. Markers. If I can think of someone who might like a note, who sounds like they need some cheering up or congratulations or encouragement, who's willing to give me an address to write to, well, he or she will probably get a couple hours of some Chessie handiwork. If you're lucky enough to live close by or with me, you'll get them hand-delivered to you. Propped up attractively on your pillow. Probably accompanied by a candy bar. I'll likely make your bed.

You're welcome. 

<<<------------- You probably want to be my friend ------------->>>

and get in on this action.
Follow the arrows because
I accept!!

Seeing as how I get a high on mailing letters and cards (I wrote seven in the last two weeks), you can probably imagine how much I love getting mail. There's nothing--NOTHING--better than sifting through a heap of unwanted credit card applications, grocery ads, and coupon value packs to find an envelope that's addressed to you. An address that's written with a pen in hand, not a printer and a label. A real stamp on it. Genuine saliva on the flap. Just doesn't get better than that.

Therefore, this month's Groupie Excellence Award 

(should I make that official?) goes to 

Amy of Mixed Bag of Musings and Sunshine on My Mind!!

It's long-deserved recognition. I'm not perfect, but I'll make up for being a blogging doofus.

Amy is fantastic. Always cheerful, inspiring, and so connected to life, love, and God. When I began Birth Month, she emailed me and asked if she could send me a birthday card. Not an email, not an e-card, not an FB or text message, but a real live birthday card from AUSTRALIA. I was over the moon. I was thrilled that she asked. I was bummed that I hadn't gotten the idea first because it was her birth month too. I begged for a return address so I could do the same. And guess what, her letter came on the worst week ever and made everything better. Not only that, but she sang a birthday song for me on YouTube! And oh my gosh, she's got the cutest accent ever.

Isn't she just the adorablest??!

Thank you, Amy!!

Class of 2011!! (and 2010 for me) aka I'm Very Mature Now.

Guys, I am back!!

It has just been kerrrrrazy and busy, but now I'm back from Indiana/New York where people asked me over and over again what I'm going to do now that I graduated.

Answer: I dunno.

So while I'm getting over a massive, disgusting cold, let's talk graduation day, because I didn't have a chance before. Before commencement on that fateful day of May 7, 2011, we all gathered out on the Quad and realized we were all wearing what Batman would wear if he were female, pregnant, and barefoot in the kitchen.

My Kate, Kiera, and Marisa friends:

My Andrew, Kate, and Erica friends.

I call him Tall Matt:

My Miranda friend.

Beloved Roomie Cort (FIVE YEARS together!):

Kayce friend.

Mitchell:

Mitchell was the FIRST English major I met.

Anna-Anna:

(Former) Roomie Abbie:

My mama texted me while I was waiting to march out with the rest of the 3000 graduates: "Do u have a stole or cord or anything?" Poor mom. I think she thought I was smarter than I am. I replied, "Haha nope. Just be glad I have a gown at all!"

Pretending to be engrossed in the speech,

while avoiding awkward conversation with the awkward man beside me:

Earlier that day, I hurt my ankle trying to photobomb Cortnie and it swelled up like a purple and green cream puff. And it hurt super much... but baby,

I danced my way up to my diploma. 

Walking at graduation was closure. I graduated in December but I finally celebrated it in style!! Seriously, my outfit was hawt.

My daddy:

My mommy:

Intellectual AND secksy:

Behold...

Chester the Graduated: