A Word From the Socially Unacceptable

Yes this is my second post in one week. Who knew working gave you so much more time on the computer? Certainly not my dad. Anyways, if you (whoever you mysterious cyberspace stalker is) have previously read my blog you will know about the pathetic situation I like to call the crush disease. Actually, I'm going to change that to fancy because "crush" sounds like I'm still in high school and I have studied millions of hours and endured just as many unbearable social encounters to earn the title of "graduate," so I'm going to speak like it. So my fancy has taken a more normal turn of events. It has settled upon a long standing friend. Now you might be thinking that this isn't really a normal fancy but comparatively...
So I'm a relatively confident person right? I mean, I haven't been nervous about a boy since junior high. Well, while this guy was on his way to my house, I couldn't stop fidgeting! I went on facebook but just ended up looking him up. I sat down to watch TV with my little brother, but never satisfied, kept switching channels until he kicked me out. I ended up at the piano but my playing was so shaky that I think I discovered piano vibrato. After his said "fifteen minutes" (puh) he showed up and I was a nervous wreck! I ended up acting super cheesy and fake with the whole "I miss you we NEED to hang out" junk. I believe when he commented on what I was wearing I said "hmm noua shaw." It was quite impressive. I think I blew him away. Really though I don't think he's coming back.

Signed: The Spaz

what high school musical doesn't know

I discovered the secret to popularity. Yes I am aware of the fact that that sounded like the opening to High School Musical 4, but I am willing to let myself sound like a 14 -year old to make my point clear. Anyways (your all thinking), I find that when I want to explain something important my mind wanders to everything unimportant making it impossible to get my point across. In fact, my 10th grade english teacher told me... joke. For reals through, the secret to popularity is ..(suspence).. blogging. In high school I was refered to as "the girl with weird clothes," "leslie's friend" or "cameron's sister." The last one was my favorite considering I went to that school for 3 years and he 1. What a confidence booster. But now that I have a blog people know who I am, want to be my friend, chase me down the street! Not quite, but my point is that I'm cool. I know my few friends that are reading this are thinking that this is merely repercussion from all the years of being picked last in dodgeball but I have reason for my thought! In fact, five people this week have informed me that I needed to update my blog. Five! I don't think five people even showed up to my "sweet 16!" Wasn't so sweet... A girl at Jamba Juice even picked me out and told me that she read my blog. I know that when I post this no one will read it and I will go back to "weird clothes girl," but to those few who take sweet time out of their day to read my blog and ease those horrid high school memories; bless you.

The Medical Results of Bootie Shorts

Warning: children or adults active in watching Hannah Montanna should be dicouraged from reading the bellow script unless accompanied by a sane person. The message below may contain mild language and slightly aggresive side affects. Should not read if pregnant, menstrating, or in love with Miley Cyrus (in other words, girls are encouraged not to read).

Wednesday March 24, 2010 I had the opportunity to participate in one of the great moments of life. The moment of the first viewing of The Last Song. Being one of the pyschos that must read the book before seeing any movie that is based off a book, I was quite excited to see this movie, for unlike any other Nicolas Spark's book, I actually got into this one. Naturally, after finishing the book I watched the trailer 7 times and looked up all the actors until the awaited day of the midnight showing. My willing friend Kaitlyn and I showed up to AMC with sweet & salties, the snuggles, and a large appetite for some man flesh; the necessities for any Nicolas Spark's movie. The much anticipated hour began with the first shot of Miley Cyrus, just a slight drawback of the movie, I thought. Then, she opened her mouth. It was the worst sound I had ever heard! Like a cat falling off a 10-story building. I couldn't believe it! Hannah Montanna was not gonna ruin this movie for me. But as the movie went on, ruin she did. With all of Hannah's bootie shorts and bellie shirts, she had inspired something: the ecnouragement to act. I mean, if people call what she did acting, then I can do that! My acting skills, although underdeveloped, are still exceeding hers that really have not earned the title of "acting skills." She has more of an "acting handicap." Moral of the story, bootie shorts and belly shirts cause a loss of brain cells.

I Know Ned. I wish he knew me...

Everyone has something that they don't like about themselves.
Let me rephrase that, every FEMALE has something they don't like about themselves and my "something" that I recently discovered is this; no matter the circumstances or people in my life I always find myself fancying some boy.
Now some may say this is natural, "You're a teenage girl!" But when all the men in my life are on missions or in college, my "fancies," as Ron Weasley would say, have become stranger. At the beginning of this odd stage, the subject of my crushing was this random boy in my class who seemed different from all the typical mountain view boys, so I subconciously dubed him the one. I did all the things you do when you crush on someone- stare at them in class, facebook stalk them, ask your friends about them- okay I did all the things that I do when I crush on someone. Anyways, I never talked to this guy, until today, and oh was it great. HE'S WEIRD! What a relief. So I was finally over with this odd stage, or so I thought. An hour after I get over Mr. Weird, I went to lunch with my three girlfriends, safe, nothing flirty or romantic about Neds. But today Neds must have really turned up the heat for as soon as I walked through the doors, I saw him. Its love.

Fake it and Make it

Once again my procrastinating has led to favorable results. I used to procrastinate with a "quick" email check (aka facebook), practicing the piano, or my favorite officechair-spinning. But my new method of procrastination has put my chair olympics to shame.
This new method is the beloved blogging.
While I was blog-stalking my good friend Rachel Schlappi, I came upon a little line on the bottom of one of her posts that read "love life...or atleast pretend to and you will." Inspiring! Not sure if her own genious mind inspired it or if it is the words of someone else, but it just made sense! I used to shun this idea, calling it fake, but after months of research, my hypothesis is as such; this idea is genious.
I always wondered why my great aunt who has lost three husbands can still wrap her arm around me and tell me of her good day with the brightest smile whereas the boy in my sixth hour can come to school everyday in his fancy clothing and grimace while he complains about not having a car.
Don't get me wrong, I do it too and maybe that kid is complaining because he gets mugged walking to school everyday. Who knows? But if he put on a bright face and pretended to be happy with his life, he would be!
INSPIRATIONAL! Litterally, be inspired, fake a smile, be happy.

Ode to a Mailman

Who is it that we trust with important information?
Who is it that presents us with good and bad news?
Who is it that neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail shall keep them from their appointed rounds?
Superman? you may be thinking. But the hero I'm referring to is none other than the mailman. Yes, the 65-year-old balding man with the too short of shorts. But don't let his khaki minis deceive you. A mailman's job is no easy deed.
Think about it:
-Steering wheel on the wrong side with no doors to brace him when the realization that he is not in Britain causes him to swerve back to the right side of the road.
-Carrying money and important information with him at all times. Forget superman keeping his identity safe, The mailman has to keep millions of people's identities safe everyday! Who knows how many arch nemesis he has.
-Having to deliver all the mail to everyone in a care with no doors while fighting off the nemesis. And all before 5-o'clock!
These rumpled senile men endure more for their neighborhoods than superman could have dreamed. So next time you see that white familiar vehicle trucking down your street, give a friendly wave to let these men know your support.
For there is neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet nor hail that shall keep a mailman from his appointed rounds.
 Have no fear, the mailman is here.