I Have This Obsession...

No, it's not sniffing delicious-smelling people.

I like to call that an occasional hobby.

No. That's not it.

See, I don't really cook.

I make the occasional banana bread, cookies, 

muffins, birthday cake...

but I like to stay out of the kitchen as much as possible.

However.

I'm completely hooked on reading cooking blogs.

Especially baking and dessert blogs.

It's bad.

It's been really bad since mid-December.

Because all I want now is a Kitchen Aid stand mixer 

and an ice-cream maker.

You now know what I desire this Christmas. 

Save up your money.

Haha!

I'll never be a foodie, but I love reading their blogs.

As Craig Ferguson once said on the Late Late Show:

"Foodies are like Trekkies, only fatter!"

5 Dollar Movies at Wally-World...

are my weakness.

I am $15.00 poor-er.

Sigh.

(Miss Congeniality, Edward Scissorhands, and She's the Man.)

:-)

Stop Getting Married, People!!

You're making me poor!!

I mean, poor-ER.

Cos I already am.

Today, I decided what I am purchasing as wedding gifts for next month. I have FOUR weddings to go to in July. FOUR!!! One on the 21st. One on the 27th. One on the 29th. And one on the 31st.

Abbie and Allie are my former roommates. Abbie is marrying Voldemort and Allie is marrying a most wonderful guy named Jared. You can probably guess which wedding I'm more excited to go to. Jessika has been my friend since the summer-before-7th-grade orchestra. Even though we go to the same college, we hardly ever see each other, and worst of all, I've never even met the dude she is going to marry! I still love her though. But see, you come to a point where you (meaning me) invite your friend to do lots of stuff with you, and she says yes, but bails on you every time... and then, there's just no point anymore. You know? You lose touch, and then all of a sudden, you find out she's engaged. Sigh. Utah.

The fourth wedding is for my dear friend, Matt (my neighbor across the street when we were in the 6th grade), who I wheedled into confidence last summer because he was scared to ask out girls. Figures he'd marry the first and only one he ever dated. Sigh. Utah. I don't think his fiancee liked me very much. Apparently, joking with one of your oldest friends is a no-no and will thus cause his fiancee to sit silently in a corner with lips tightly and disapprovingly pursed. Also, she wears a light shawl to church. In my book, that spells uptight. 

But I'm no judge, as I told Marie the other night: 

Every person needs the weirdo to his/her weird. 

Whatevs. 

So the three girlies are each getting a cookbook

and a gift card to the grocery store.

(I'm gonna wait on Matt's gift, until I see what the dudes are going in on).

I could go the registry route,

but what good are cooking utensils if you don't have some recipes,

or some food to cook?

On an unrelated note: I also have the BFF's birthday present. And her birthday isn't until the middle of August! Am I on the ball or what?! (On second thought, that just ruined the surprise. Oh well. She still doesn't know what it is.)

When I Close My Eyes at Night...

all I can see are stacks of dirty dishes,
smelly puddles of dishwater,
crumbs scattered on the floor,
who-knows-what caked to my apron,
cheese sauce sticking to my fingers,
soda spilled on high-chairs...

Only two more months of dreams

where I forget to serve a customer

and all I do is sort silverware, silverware, silverware...

...and, worst of all,

of fearing my manager will yell at me...

:-(

(Oh, the things we go through for a silly education!)

I Know It's Silly, But...

Sometimes I believe in silly things.

Like fate.

But only when it's really silly.

Like if you had written six posts centering on--or at least mentioning--yummy-smelling boy, wouldn't you think it was fate if....

• You had dressed up for a ward Father's Day party and looked particularly fetching (mostly because  you had spent an entire week in smelly workclothes and an apron)
• Your hair was done and not in a ponytail
• You had decided on a whim to text your best friend Joe and say, "Hey man! How do you feel about going to a movie?"
• He had said, "Sure, what movie?"
• You had said, "Well, I'm at a ward party so I can't look them up. You suggest one."
• Your best friend, Joe, suggested How to Train Your Dragon which you had been dying to see anyway
• There was only one theater where that movie was playing
• You decided to meet up with him at the theater because you had to go home and get your money because no way was Joe paying for your ticket again
• You got there before him so you were sitting in the middle of the lobby people watching 
• You heard a somewhat familiar-ish voice
• You saw a very familiar face
• You said, "_____?"
• He said, "Chessie?"
• You both exclaimed, "What are you doing here?!"

It was Yummy-Smelling Boy!! In my hometown. At my theater. At the same I was there. We exchanged pleasantries, numbers, tentative plans to hang out should he come down again and should I go up to Logan. And except for the fact that he was going to Toy Story 3, the whole event was quite serendipitous. I got giggly when Joe and I got to our theater, and he mercilessly made fun of me and called me a girl. It's true. I was.

So what do you think?

Fateful?

Should this crush train leave the station?

Haha!

Can Kent Get Any More Adorable?

I mean, seriously.

Yummy Smelling Boy Once Told Me...

"Chess, you're more American than I am. YOU country swing dance."

Well. My American-ness just got bumped up about ten notches.

I met up with my friend and went dancing last night.
He teaches the country swing classes up on campus.
He is very, very good.
Like I've said before, I could dance every dance with him,
and it would be awesome.

It also doesn't hurt that he is ten directions of attractiveness.

(I don't even know what that means, but it sounds good.)

But he has a girlfriend, so that crush train can stop before it leaves the station.

Anyway.

Friend = dance instructor = he taught me almost everything I know

=

He totally messed up like ten times during a line dance.

That he taught in class.

Which I totally did not mess up on at all.

Take that!

Who's the country swing pro now?

Why am I so proud of something so lame?

:-)