I'm just an uncomfortable person sometimes,

Seriously. Sometimes, I think about myself, and I just cringe. Mostly I'm amused, but there's that ten percent of total embarrassment. And just remembering something brings it all back, even if it happened a year ago. A year and a half ago. Five years ago.

It's like, usually, I think I'm a pretty decent, even-tempered person with normal social skills and behavior, plus a good conversationalist, and then BAM!--just when I think I'm doing extra well, I say something, or I do something that just ruins everything. And I'll play it off, but a year, year and a half, five years later, I'm still dying inside about it.

The reason I bring this up is because today marks my 18-monthiversary of telling my lit professor, Professor McCuskey, that I have blue hands and then running away from him into the ladies' room to hide. I made the mistake of telling my friends (who also had him) about it, and they will never let me live it down.

So you might as well relieve the moment and laugh awkwardly with me.

Read the original post right HERE.

McCuskey, if you ever Google yourself, and somehow come across this post--know that I tried to come talk to you about every paper I wrote, and I couldn't: first, because I was too scared, and second, I was too embarrassed. 

So I hiked Squaw Peak...

Kate and I hung out with the boizzzz two Saturdays ago. We went to my hometown because our friends invited us to go on the annual Squaw Peak hike. I'm really glad she came with me, because if she hadn't, true to fashion, I would've been the one female swimming in a sea of snarky testosterone. And worse than that, the sole person at the back of the line. 

We may have been horribly out of shape for that four mile plus a 3100+ foot gain hike. We may have been behind those boys by fifteen minutes. And they may or may not have thought that we'd never make it, but baby, we prevailed.

Despite that victory, mostly, I just wanted to say that I was wearing a t-shirt that said "True Aggies Bleed Blue" and one doofwad BYU hiker coming down shouted at me, "I bleed blue too, but it's the right blue." 

Don't you worry. I put that jerk in his place with an extremely rude gesture.

That's right, folks. I blew a raspberry at him over my shoulder.

(Don't forget to enter my giveaway HERE. 

Make sure you leave a separate comment for each entry option.)

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:

Demonstration: How to Sumo Wrestle...

This is what to do when everyone is done with finals (of course, you didn't have any cos you already graduated!), and you should be going to bed because you need to pack everything up and clean, but you don't...

Grab a couch pillow and go kerrrrrazy!

This is also extremely useful in determining what one would look like pregnant.

As you can see, I will be ADORABLE. Haha.

Happy Sumo Wrestling!

Guess Where I Am?!

You Know That Big Tree in Front of the Sorority by the TSC?

Last week, I was walking home from Institute and these two girls wearing their matching sororital (I made that up) shirts--or were they very tight tank tops?--were perched up on the big branch extending over the sidewalk, yelling some obnoxious nonsense to a guy that was on their doorstep.

I came to the tree just as one girl said loudly, "If I sit in this tree long enough, will I get a boyfriend?"

As I walked beneath her, I said conversationally, 

"No."

The First Gifts of Birth Month...

The best night of dancing EVER. This school year, anyway. No, pretty much the best night of dancing since I started country dancing three and a half years ago. Wow.

Annnnnnd....

A winged pedestrian.

Oxymoron, you say?

Oh, quite.

Um...Where's the Coke?

aka Reason Ten Gazillion, Three Bazillion, Nine Hundred and Ninety-Nine Point Seven Seven

why I love--nay, adore--Utah State University:

The French Fry Sculpture

March 8, 2010

March 1, 2011

Happy birthday yesterday in London, Mikey,

and happy birthday today, Clark!!

Spotted...!

Kelli informed me the other day that she believes she saw Miss-Whistle-While-I-Pee on campus. Indeed, her description of this girl fit mine: She had a rolling backpack and was "whistling a very complicated ditty."

As you can see, I was not delusional that fateful day in the third-floor bathroom of the Merrill-Cazier Library. My ears were not deceived. This girl exists, ladies and gentlemen, she exists!!! She is no figment of my imagination.

I kind of compared her to Moaning Myrtle in my mind just now.

Interesting....

PS...

I just thought of something.

Miss Whistle-While-I-Pee had a rolling backpack.

Precious!!

It was probably holding her piccolo.

Whistle While You Pee....What?

Okay.

I just....

Ugh.

I just used the restroom on the third floor of the Merrill-Cazier Library. That is the library at Utah State University. Where I go to school. Just needed to get that out of the way--in case you didn't know.

There was one other girl in there who went into a stall just before I did. I went to one that was quite a distance away. I was hanging up my backpack and my coat on the hook on the door, when all of a sudden, this girl starts to whistle. And not a quiet whistle either.

Oh no. It was loud and piercing and just kept going. It was like this huge trill and run of notes. I couldn't help but think that maybe she was in the symphony or something and played the flute or piccolo, because whatever she was whistling was not your run-of-the-mill lame whistling.

Oh no. It was an orchestrated whistle. And she repeated it. Over and over. While she peed. While I peed. And if she made a mistake, she started over.

Why was she doing it? Was she trying to drown out the sound of her pee falling into the toilet? Also, did she not realize that I was there? Because I walked in and I'm pretty sure she saw me. If I were to whistle while peeing, which I would NOT, I would make sure that no one else was there to hear me.

She has to be a marching band geek.

There is no other explanation for this deviation from the unspoken societal rules that dictate silence in public restrooms.

Band geek.

It all makes sense.