doo da dippity

Stephen and I went and saw Jane Eyre. A few seats down from us was another couple, about thrity years older. It wasn't more than twenty minutes before the husband starting expressing his confusion. "Where is she?" he'd ask louder than he meant to. "Who started that fire?" Dude was really not getting it, and despite his wife's best efforts she could not keep him quiet, bless her heart. When exiting the theater, our new friend nearly tumbled down the stairs. Apparently he had had a few before the show. I understand getting drunk before Fast Five or Thor, but a dry British period piece consisting almost entirely of dialog? It was also only 6:00. And Provo. So yeah.

In an unrelated but awesome note, the store down the street from my office is named Humphrie's Taxidermy. Sounds like even more fun than a drunken viewing of Jane Eyre.

ranting and raving

I guess it was our fault. We left our puppy Ollie home alone longer than usual. So he slept longer than usual, and then was not ready to sleep at his normal bedtime. Understandable. "He'll just play for a while," we said. But Ollie is not a solitary kind of puppy. He has no fun at all unless there is a person throwing a ball or rubbing his ears. He's pretty needy. And if he's not being paid the full attention, he feels he deserves, he is incredibly vocal about it.
"BARK! BARK!"
"Ollie go to sleep..."
"BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARK!"
Occasionally he was distracted with a toy or a shoe, and he'd be quiet just long enough for Steohen and I to drift back into dream land, then
"BARK!"
This went on until 4:00 am. As it turns out, Wee hours of the morning prove I'm not nearly the patient person I like to think I am. I never got physical or loud, I just got crazy illogical. I forgot that Ollie is a dog and neither speaks nor understands the English language.So I started lecturing.
"You are being very inconsiderate. I'm running a race in the morning and I need to get to sleep. This is not how a good puppy acts. Please go to sleep." At this point I was getting weepy. Which for some reason, sort of worked. And he went to sleep. Three hours of sleep and an Excedrin later, I ran the race. No harm no foul, and now  Ollie the puppy understands that a woman's tears mean serious business.

both your arms are broken

Happy, sunny Friday.
Enjoy this. I mean, click the word "this" in that sentence. Because I can't make it turn into a fun color, I don't know why.
K bye.

we used to be friends

Have you ever taken a multi-vitamin on an empty stomache? I used to be healthy and take multi-vitamins at breakfast. But one night I had quite a few tacos and woke up the next morning still too full to function. So I took the Centrum to make up for the nutrients I was missing from my usual oatmeal and banana. I washed it down with a Diet Coke, of course. Then I called my dad because I had something important to tell him. And then things got weird. It must have been midsentence when I said "Oh no. I'm dying." Dad, a little confused, tried to ask why it was that I was seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. The only response he got was a moan and gargle. I hung up the phone, thinking maybe I should have said a final good bye? And the next thing I knew I woke up on the carpet next to the bathroom. I'm assuming my thought process went from "This is the end" to "I need to get to the bathroom NOW" to "Nope, still dying" and then a loss of consciousness. After waking I ate some toast and fully recovered. But it was too close a call. No more vitamins.

you will know

Every time I have a wrinkled article of clothing and decide to use the shower steam method for removing said wrinkles, there is no hot water in the shower.
Every time I sort of have to go to the bathroom and decide that I can hold it until I get to work, I get stuck in traffic.
Everytime.
I'm not necessarily saying that the universe is conspiring against me, but it's a bit Alanis Morrissette, don't you think?

Neither she nor I really understand irony.

leave a mark

At what point does the phrase "you're a good little eater" go from being a compliment to an insult? I think it's the first time someone says it to you on a date.

Nearly a year ago, I saw something in our apartment parking lot. At first glance, I thought it was another one of the MANY cats that camp near the dumpster. At second glance, however, I realized it was chubbier and waddlier and rodentier. My best guess was a muskrat. But then I didn't see it again, and no one believed me. It was my own personal possibly imagined monster living in the Loch ness of Provo's gutters. I saw it once, and I never lost hope.
Then yesterday, as I pulled into the drive way, there was Nessy. Staring right at me. It looked a lot like this:



It scurried away, back into the gutter, and I was left once again without proof. Who knows how to catch a muskrat?

vocational trades

I don't read that often. I know, I KNOW, I was an English major. I should just devour books. I should talk only of the great poets and critical theories. But I like television.

I do, however, every once in a while find a book that I literally can't put down. I ignore everything else in life. It's happened a few times in the last year, with The Help and Elna Baker's book, the title of which I can never remember. I'm like one of those people who never eats sweets except on special occasions and ends up eating the entire birthday cake.

This is my latest binge:

I bought Bossypants Saturday afternoon and completed the book Saturday night. I also just ate an entire Cafe Rio salad, so obviously moderation is a principle I have yet to master. I love Tina Fey. I loved this book. There is some reason-king's-speech-was-rated-R type language (and then some), so this is not a recommendation. Just an admission that I have problems with pacing and should probably get professional help.