Monday, January 30, 2012

It's a working progress.

Today, after a long night, (not of sleep that is) I woke up at 6:30. Left for work at 7am. Drove a half hour to work with a fresh-off-the-mission awkward RM, worked at the elementary school, got slapped in the face by a new client twice, pinched like it was going outta style (ya know, like the poor kid that forgot to wear green on St. Patricks day), worked until 2:30, drove back to Rexburg to work by 3, I worked until 9pm, and I proceeded to get hit on, over the phone, by a 44 year old convict with testicular cancer.
Dang medical surveys....

Me: Has any healthcare provider informed you of symptoms of depression?
Romeo: Well yea, I've just got outta jail a week ago, all my family died while I was in there, but it's a lot better today since I get to listen to your voice, with a voice like that, I'll bet you gotta pretty face to match it...
 Me: uh (not for YOU to see!!!)... Next question, what is your age? 20-34, 34-44, 45-54...
Romeo: I'm 44, and if you don't mind me asking, how old are you?
Me: uhhhhhh.... 20.....
Romeo: mmm. Young and beautiful, I'll bet a gal like you has a boyfriend.
(Cue uber-awkward laugh)
Romeo: Girl, I can practically hear you blushin over tha phone!
Me: uhh... hahaha... Moving on, In the past have you had a history of cancer?
Romeo: Yep, I got testicular cancer, but don't worry, they're still functional ;)
Me: ...Ok. for geographical purposes, what is your race?
Romeo: I'm a African American, and a single one at that... wink wink...
Me: ha. ha. ha. ummm, can I verify I reached you at such n' such a number?
Romeo: yea girl, and if you don't mind me asking, what number can I reach you at?
Me: .... ok, well that concludes our survey, thanks for your time, have a good night!
Romeo: mhmm, It'd be better if I could see yo face. Stay sweet and beautiful (Cue creeper laugh)

Homeboy claimed to be homeless.... Thanks heavens he still hand a land line? haha
Additionally, I called a sweet old lady:

Me: Hi there, Is George available?
Grandma: Who? George? No, my husband's dead. He got shot in the back of the head in November of 2011.. I've been trying to remove his name from all these records...
Me: (Foot. In. Mouth.) I am SO sorry for your loss. God bless you.

I'll tell you what, you really learn how blessed you are when you work in certain fields.

Needless to say, I felt VERY uncomfortable after that phone call...

On a brighter note, I was one of the top interviewers for stats. Yay me. 
I'm going places :)
People, I know you hate phone-call surveys, but every once in a while, do them. It'll make someone's day a little easier.

After work, I come home and run into my ex (I hate calling him an Ex...) as he was leaving, and returning to his new woman interest's apartment. 
Is there a target over my heart today? For the love of all that is good. She lives on the floor below me.
Spent the night under my bed curled in a ball. 
Quite cozy actually. Try it sometime.
Tomorrow is a new day, but as for today, Monday: You've lived up to your stereotype of being kinda rotten.
If that random little girl hadn't have run up and given me a hug on the playground today, I may have called in a sick day tomorrow. Thanks little girl in Hannah Montana coat. You are an Angel. I was beginning to think those were starting to avoid me... haha

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Happy Day.

 Some things just amount an average day into a pretty good one. 
Today, it was:
-Holding puppies at the pound.
-Making muffins with my mentally handicapped client Anna. (She's a hoot.)
-A free razor in the mail, and a good one at that! I'm officially converted. More really is better when it comes to blades!

-A home cooked meal at Lindsay's Gramma's house. We're talking REAL meat, salad, rolls, jello-pretzel salad, and to-die-for funeral potatoes... I ate and ate and ate to hold me over for the next few weeks.
-Napping on gramma's floor. ( you have to nap after a meal like that...)
-Kitty footprints on my windsheild.

-Singing with the roommates on the drive home from Ririe. Girl's got talent.
Baaby, baaby, baaby, ooooooh! Thought you'd always be miiiine, miiiiine.
-A hot bath. Sometimes, you just need a good soak.
-Quiet nights with nothing to do. I LOVE those, and do not have enough of them!
- And an overall feeling of contentment. When you get that feeling, as often or uncommon as it is, you just have to say a prayer and give thanks for it.
Hope you all can find reason's your day was worth waking up for :)
Merry January to all, and to all a good night.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

This is it. I'm dooooomed!

 (That blue blob is sticky tack holding that little rascal on display)
Need I say more?
We are building a giant volcano in the living room, chanting, lighting candles, and dying my hair. Be there or be square.
Mom, Dad... Which one of you do I need to blame for these genes?
It's going down.

"If you say no, than no it will be."

Note: I believe I mentioned on my side bar that this blog shares both lemons and lemonade.
I apologize. Prepare for word vomit. Brace yourself for some mental venting. Get ready for some lemons. No one is perfect.
Manchester Orchestra wrote in, in my opinion, one of their best songs,
"...I lost your presence underneath the bridge.
Lock the door, let's talk it out,

Against the wall, hands on my mouth,
Could this be it, is it really over now?
...Nine to eleven you're getting weak,
The tile is cold, I can barely speak,
And I think she's gone, but I'll be sure for safety's keeping
If you say no, then no it will be,
I'll stick it at our skin, pierced with colly strings,
Just play it cool yeah, and try avoid being seen
I'll stick it at our skin, pierced for nothing." 

Many people can pinpoint the moment they fell in love. I know I can. It was the day you drove all night to come see me. You were resting your head on my lap, I was scratching your back. You were so exhausted, and I was so enamored. All I wanted to do was take care of you, forever and ever. Cliche? Most definitely. True? Yes. That I was sure of. I felt what you felt, and though miles apart, I thought we were one. 
How many people can remember the exact point their love ceased to be? That moment when you realize that though you were once someone's priority, you are now nothing more than a waste of time, shoved to the back of their mind.
Now, I think I can.
It seems like since July 8th, 2011, I hear over and over again to not let our fears govern our choices. It is incomprehensible to me how to follow such counsel. Fears are real. They are crippling. Because of me, they ruined us.
I'm sorry I got scared. I'm sorry I wasn't ready. I'm sorry about conditions that I have little control over, that control me. You deserved better. I knew that. I thought I was doing you a favor.
This is it, as it has felt it would be many times before. I'm not ready, I'm not ready. Please! If you love me, you won't make me do this. You know I'll never be ready. This is not a surprise, and it's my fault. I know. I had a choice. Slow like cancer or fast like a bullet, how do you want it to end? Doesn't matter, you can keep shooting, I'll take as many hits as is mortally allowed, I guess.

Something has died. 
In me. 
In you.
But it didn't feel like anything was wrong, as long as you were holding me. Holding all the fragile, impulsive, broken pieces together, of what was once a secure and stable person. I wish you knew me when I was her. I was really something. Sometimes I think about her, and it's like she's a stranger. Some charismatic character I've only read about. I envy that girl. Sometimes I feel like She's not too far, just temporarily taking a scenic detour, but anyone who knows me, knows I have no sense of direction. Babe, you know how I hate getting lost.
I'm scared. Oh so scared. 
So much time, gone.

 "It took so long just to feel alright. Remember how to put back the light in my eyes."
Everything becomes intensified when someone turns off the lights. The normal creaks and squeaks of your childhood home becomes monsters and intruders lurking in the night to smother you into it's midst.
I hate the darkness. I hate cold nights on the bathroom floor. I hate running the bathwater so no one can hear me. I hate the violence that acts as sensory output to distract me from the pain in my chest. I hate the way I react, leaving me wonder who is this monster in my body? This isn't me... I hate the sinking feeling, the lump in my throat, I hate the rejection. Begging for answers that may never come, analyzing circumstances that may never make sense. Angel, just make it ok.
I want Monte Christo Tuesdays, and listening to Jeff Pianki. I want Horkley's movie rentals every Friday night, and over-priced cheese fondu on Valentine's day. I want to dig for sand crabs on Laguna Beach. I want green eyed, meek-natured babies. I want you singing "The boy who blocked his own shot."

"And honestly, I have been begging for answers
That you and only you can give to me
My voice crying loud
I've been crying for days now
And as I start to run, I stop to breathe...

And I'll be here by the ocean
Just waiting for proof that there's sunsets and silhouette dreams
All my sand castles fall like the ashes of cigarettes
And every waves drags me to sea
I could stand here for hours
Just to ask God the question, "Is everyone here make-believe?"
With a tear in His voice, He said, "Son, that's the question.
Does this deafening silence mean nothing to no one but me?"
You saved me. I know I say it all the time, but it's true. So long I've been attached to you, curled up in your warmth, your heartbeat being the lullaby that granted me sleep. Cut the umbilical chord, and I will starve. Starving builds character.

 It's been seven months. You'd think I wouldn't still cry over it seven months later, but I do. Not even cry though. I weep. I feel quite pathetic really. I'm quite good at remembering the feeling, fresh as day. Don't you understand though? I'm mourning. Not the loss of a loved one per say... but really, if you think about it, I am. Mourning a lost future, unfulfilled and high expectations, a mental future built, and crumbled. It's not easy to start from scratch. Often times I notice myself living in two separate realms of reality. I live a double life. Next week is our one year anniversary. Happy Anniversary Sweetheart. Read that calendar I gave you, I believe this time last year, we were going to go to the hot springs.

You were never meant to be a memory.

You will be fine, I know. Someone with such an incredible capacity to feel, love, empathize, also has made it clear you have an ability to shut off completely. Forget. Move on.
Who doesn't love to hear they are totally forgettable?
I get it. 

And yet I don't. I don't understand how someone once loved could be so easily disposable.
Move on, be happy, it's truly what I want for you, but stop trying to say goodbye. Stop blocking me out and pushing me away.
Date. I am. The thing is, many people just seem to pale in comparison. Dating has lost a lot of it's appeal.
I. will. be. a. cat lady. (hamster lady actually... I hate cats.)

"If it makes you less sad, I will die by your hand
Hope you find out what you are; already know what I am
And if it makes you less sad, we'll start talking again
You can tell me how vile I already know that I am
I'll grow old, start acting my age
It'll be a brand new day in a life that you hate
A crown of gold, a heart that's harder than stone
And it hurts to hold on, but it's missed when it's gone...

If it makes you less sad, I'll move out of this state
You can keep to yourself, I'll keep out of your way
And if it makes you less sad, I'll take your pictures all down
Every picture you paint, I will paint myself out"

You are my best friend. My much, much, much better half. This isn't third grade, we can still be friends. I'm still here. I will be for a while. My fears haven't changed, but they are not invoked by you either. So it'll be interesting to see how far you go, and how stagnant I remain.

My roommates think I'm a little certifiable, but we already knew that. They bought me flowers, and chocolate. Aren't they sweet? (and a little too thoughtful) haha  I remember receiving flowers the day after our engagement ended. They threw me into a whirlwind of tears because you were the only one who bought me flowers.
They were from my daddy.
Attached was this note:

"There are Brighter Days Ahead."
So here's to brighter days.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Love a man in uniform.

So here's the deal-io.
We live in Rexburg Idaho, more commonly and lovingly called "Iceburg" or "Sexburg", for two reasons:
1. It is frigid. This year has been typically warm, but generally the windchill will freeze your eyelashes together from the time you leave your apartment to the time you reach the crosswalk, and everyday feels like you are living the movie The Day After Tomorrow.

2. We have quite the birthrate in this little town, what, with all these lifelong virgins dropping to marriage like flies, with aspirations of becoming super-mormon-mommas and baby breeding machines, you can imagine the OBGYN office's and birthing rooms are rarely vacant. Hence: Sexburg was born.

The main point I'm getting to is; it's cold in Rexburg.
Our apartment has been a little cranky with us as of late. Since we moved in, the doorknob broke (resulting in it blowing open every 5 minutes), our cabinets have come off it's hinges, our cable cord failed to function, and, oh yea... OUR HEATING BROKE! 
Assume Eskimo attire in apartment 302! 
Now, we live in pretty decent apartments, this is not normal, but, we do have a wonderful maitenance man who comes at the drop of a hat. I call him Pedro. 
We put in the request for someone to thaw us out of the igloo we were living in, and waited... and waited... and waited. Finally, someone came! To my disappointment, he was white, old, and came when I was not home. Fortunately, my roommates documented the event while I was at work, via Facebook. 
Take a gander.

Here's the picture (a little bigger) of our man in shining armor!

(Hopefully you can read this, I know it's small, sorry! ZOOM LADIES ZOOM!)
I really do think I live with some of the funniest people. It makes life SO much more tolerable.
By the way, you like that picture posted to my "wall" at the bottom?
Let's take a closer looksy shall we?

That was the height difference between me and my roommate Sunday. Midgets get to park in paralyzed parking don't they?
... I could find a way to get used to this :)

Sunday, January 22, 2012

In the spirit of Valentines Day

I am a woman of simple desires. I enjoy tasty breads and fine cheeses, hold my pinky in the air when drinking from a teacup, and love a calm evening with mustard yarn and knitting. One of my greatest ambitions, right up there with the ever-so-realistic publishing a book goal, and getting more than 100 followers on my blog, is to have something (ANYTHING!) pinned on pinterest :) 

My wise mother once said to me, "Val, have you ever noticed how far in advanced holiday related pins go viral? If you want to share good ideas, you must do so far in advance." 
hmm by Golly, I think she's onto something. Good work college degree, you've really done  well with that one!

So I'd like to share a simple little decoration I actually did for last Valentines Day.  Last year our apartment manager came and told us we were doing a window decorating competition, of course, I'm an art major and though I'm not confident in a lot of things, I'd like to believe I can carry my weight in a good ol' fashioned decorating contest. Naturally, I couldn't resist. (Most colleges have parties, and beer pong and what not... BYU-Idaho? Window decorating competition. SO hard core. haha)

I'm kinda obsessed with old fashioned, classy-wannabe things, so when I heard about this super duper event, one word came to mind. Silhouettes. A bunch of pink tissue paper, 3 hours and two black poster boards later, this simple little window accent was born! I loved the serene pink tinted glow our living room had in the weeks following.

I really wanted that coveted first place prize of donuts.. but apparently the window with all the tenants ring sizes on it and some beyonce lyrics was a little more impressive. Way to break the stereotype ladies of "Marriage house" (nickname for Carriage House) here at BYU-I-do. You represent us desperate house-wife, baby-breeding, wannabe's well :) haha

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go pin my own pictures to Pinterest. Maybe. (Shortly after I give myself high-fives, "like" all my status's on Facebook, and send myself a bouquet of flowers for being so dang cool. haha)

Oh by the way, there is one fun little idea I'm using for Valentines Day that unfortunately cannot be revealed until the day of. (Just in case my roommates read my blog. Yes, I mean you.) Be excited for it. I am :)

Monday, January 16, 2012

 Don't you ever have texting conversations that make you wonder how on earth have I become an associate of these people? Sometimes you just have to look back and appreciate how strange we all can be.
Maybe these are things that are only funny to me, and you just had to be there, buuuuut, this is a recent conversation between me and a random new acquaintance.

Friend- Ka Ching
Valerie- hahaha
Friend- why are you texting me, I don't even know you.
Valerie- Balut is a fertilized duck egg with a nearly developed embryo inside that is boiled and eaten in the show.
Friend- American car horns beep to the tone F
Valerie- When male bumble bees climax, their testicles explode and then they die.
Friend- hmmm, totally gives new meaning to the term "going out with a bang."
Valerie- I know. God did it right when he created the bumble bee
Friend- The plastic things on the end of shoelaces are called aglets.
Valerie- The metal pipe under the toilet is called a "ballcock". Ironic? yes.

Friend- Game over. I already knew that. Sorry. I've installed a few toilets in my day, and it is actually the piece inside the tank that fills it. Good try though.
Valerie- Screw this man, I hate high school.
 Friend- I didn't go to high school, I was home schooled.
Valerie- That explains everything.

Did you just learn a few new facts? "I gotta lifetime of knowledge" (She's the man quote anyone?)
I'm not sure if this makes us really cool, or total freaks....
Onto my brother, the same evening.

Stephonovich- hehehe. I just noticed I still have (my very old ex boyfriend's) number in my phone contacts :)
Valerie- Why on earth would you?
Stephonovich- No clue. I remember I got it from you when we had a pizza eating contest, and I sent him an intimidating message or something...
Valerie- You should mess with him. Act like he's a girl your husband is cheating on you with or something. Rip into him haha
Stephonovich- That's genuis. What if he still has my number in his contacts? :)
Valerie- Unlikely. He'll ask who it is if he doesn't.
Stephonovich- But he might still have it!!! I had a feeling he secretly loved me more than you. Maybe he'd be hoping we'd be bro's once I got older :)
Stephonovich- No Homo. Beeteedubs
Valerie- Oh no doubt. Dude. "beeteedubs" is homo in itself. Never again haha
Stephonovich- Beeteedubs is not homo. Unless you say it to another guy. then that's just asking to get in his pants.
Valerie- You have to wash the vomit off my sheets now.
Stephonovich- Now you'll never be able to say beeteedubs to anyone with a straight face :)
Stephonovich- For shizzle. Btw, mom and I checked today, Natalie (my lil sister) has texted more than everyone else this month. She can't even go to dances yet, let alone date. So we're perplexed to say the least.
Stephonovich- My abs are absolutely, remarkably chisled. Beeteedubs :)
Valerie- Aaaand that's my cue to go to bed.
Stephonovich- Oh sorry, make you feel awkward? I assumed ____ (my more recent ex) sent you messages like that all the time :) haha wow. I'll admit that was kinda homo. I need sleep.
Valerie- Yea, lil bit. Tootles shnookums. Have sweet gumdrop dreams.
Stephonovich- You best be hittin them sheets, yo. Dontcha know it be late in rexbizzle. peace out home skillet. word to our mother, dawg.

Wow. My Little brother is just a little too cool for his own good.
Future civilizations are going to look back and try to find the root to the fall of the intelligence of mankind. Yes, they will hypothosize texting to be a cause, but there is no doubt they will find my texting records as their most prized proof of their theory.

To said future civilization: We may be dumb, but at least we have a sense of humor.  Boo YA.

Saturday, January 14, 2012

Chocolate, mexican, and white.

Did you think I would be talking about races or boys from my title, or am I the only one who would draw that conclusion?

 I hate to disappoint, but I will, in fact, be talking about chocolate.
Mexican, and white to be exact.

I and my roommate Chrissy attended a little focus group on campus this last week. It's a meeting the business majors hold in order to gather data for the demands and anticipated success of a particular item they plan to market for the semester. The group I attended just so happened to be focusing on hot chocolate. Yummm. We discussed it all; garnishes, marshmallows, flavors from caramel to raspberry, presentation and creamers, it was mouthwatering. It's no surprise to guess that by the end of the hour we wanted liquid chocolate in our systems, and we wanted it NOW!

One member of the focus group, who clearly served his mission in mexico, raved about "chocolate abuelita". He described how it comes in a bar of chocolate that you melt down, and I began thinking to myself, this sounds familiar... when it dawned on me, I've seen this mysterious product before! My roommate Breanne left some on my shelf from last semester. 

I recall looking at it, thinking it looked good, reading the directions, and deciding that melting down a bar of seasoned chocolate was faaar too much work for my lazy american butt to put forth, when I could simply tear open a paper envelope and pour imitation chocolate powder in water for basically the same thing.  This initial issue, given our current circumstances, needed to be put on the back burner because nothing was coming between us and that craving being fulfilled!
From the meeting, we ran into the lobby where we saw my roommate Lindsay studying amongst other studious individuals. In excitement I called out "LINDSAY, LETS GO HOME, WE'RE GONNA MAKE CHOCOLATTE ABUELITA!"
There were definitely some guys there who spoke Spanish because, apparently some super-whitey gringo girl yelling she was going to make "chocolate grandmas" was humorous. haha It's sad how sick of a pleasure I get in butchering the pronunciation of other languages.

 (yes, backwards photobooth picture, look at the seductive look in that gramma's eyes... she knows what's up)
Long story short, We made it. 
It was kinda weird.
Good, but different.
and it didn't quite satisfy my craving, and so the hunt began. 

Backpedal. Upon my arrival to rexburg, I found a special surprise inside the trunk of my car. 5 lbs of popcorn to be more specific. It was a gift from the heavens... and my momma.

This is our (me and Lindsay's) family photo. We named it "Popcorn Child"

Slowly but surely we've been chipping away at that little guy, experimenting with seasonings and flavors, throwing popcorn parties, and what not. 

So, ravaging through my cupboard, what should I find in my ravenous search for chocolate?
White chocolate almond bark. 
I took it.

I melted it. 
Drizzled it. 
And pounded the whole bowl like a champ. 
Easy as pie. 
Now my friends, go out into the world, make white chocolate popcorn and enjoy!
You can thank me later :)

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Everything I need to know I learned in Kindergarten.

In case you did not know, I work as a developmental therapy technician at a center that shall remain unnamed (not because I don't like it, I LOVE it, but simply because I'm pretty sure mentioning it involves breaking some sort of rules... ya know, legal stuff.) 
(I sound all legit right? I used to have to say I worked at Dairy Queen when people asked me where I worked, SO glad that ship has sailed.)

Anyways, because I am both tasteful, and mature, I lovingly call the kids I work with "the ra-tards". Pretty sure that is sooo not ok. It's like dropping the N-word around an african-american brotha. But, have you ever noticed if you are of that ethnicity, it is ok to say that certain word?
Here's my justification: I basically have issues, so I relate well to them! haha For some reason, because I feel like I am one of them, I feel like it's ok to drop politically incorrect terminology. Especially because I am the biggest advocate that these children really are so much more capable than people give them credit for, and that we all are retarded in some sense, as is expanded on here. Anywho, I LOVE these kids, and I LOVE my job even though there are days I get bitten, pooped on, drooled on, and wanna cry, and the hours can stink and be unpredictable, it is seriously the best. Through my job, I've gained so much more understanding of the pure love of Christ. 

I'm kinda territorial of this lil guy. 

He was my client last year, and he just makes my world. I think when he runs in with a smile on his face and hugs my leg, that's the closest thing to motherly love I've ever felt. EVERY frustration, surprise bathroom attack (aka getting peed on), tantrum, half hour commute, and poor wage becomes worth it.

This week I've been substituting in the Special Education Department at a few elementary schools, and boy, has my knowledge been broadened! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you a list of the VERY important facts I've learned in kindergarten this week, via an outstanding group of 5 year-olds.

1. Nacho cheese is 50% plastic. Thank goooodness they told me! Think of how much plastic taco bell could have tricked me into consuming had I not found this out! :)
2. I live in Idaho. My mommy lives is Washington, therefore, I am an orphan. haha
What? All this time I've been living a lie and I had to wait for a 5 year old to tell me!?
3. Wendy's is the worlds best restaurant because it is the only one with chili? So good to know.
4. "bun, picko, picko, picko, cheese" is how you make a crabby patty. Take that Plankton, I got the Krusty Krab secret recipe before you! Sorry you've spent your whole meaningless television life searching for something you could have known had you only attended public education in Idaho.

5. You can get anything you want if you begin the request with the phrase "I'll be your best friend if..." Never again will I be refused!
6. Supposedly, You can sell a deer for a gazillion dollars. I will be infinitely grateful to whoever brings me that diamond encrusted deer.
7. From my observations, girls and boys really don't develop cooties until first or second grade. It's still o.k. to be civil towards one another in Kindergarten.
8. Have an unruly child you need to calm down? Mother's listen up. A blanket with small bean bags sewn in it to give it weight, a plastic soft bristled brush (like the ones on those shout bottles of stain remover, or pet groomer brushes, though I'm sure any brush would work.) and calm nature music. Lights off. Place blanket on child laying down, play music, and brush their arms and back. Magic. They do this to some of the autistic children after recess to calm them down. It puts even me to sleep.

9. It's appropriate to crawl around on the ground as long as you inform the teacher you are "Baby Bowser." haha Come on teacher, you couldn't tell?
10. "Sometimes, you are just in the mood for two chocolate milks"
I hear ya brother.

This is but a sampling of helpful information that is seriously lacking in my college education, but no worries, I still have a few more days to learn more than I will ever need to know.
Stay tuned.

Monday, January 9, 2012

Luck of the Draw

Sometimes getting new roommates can be a scary thing. If I've learned anything in my 3 years of college, it's that your roommates will make or break a semester. I've had some awesome roommates in the past who have become my best friends, and then I've had some... not as awesome roommates that made be wanna blow my brains out and eat them for breakfast. (There's a mental image for ya...)

It truly is luck of the draw, and if you do by chance get the roommate who screams in her sleep, laughs maniacally for no reason, keeps locks of your hair, and thinks your food is free game, well, you are stuck for three months and are about to learn a whoooole lotta patience.
Thankfully, I can tell you this much: this semester is gonna be BOMB. It helps that I'm technically not in school, just working, but all the same, I've won the lottery of roommates. Some I knew before and some I didn't, but I feel like we all just click. It's so fabulous, and always a relief to know you didn't end up with a roommate like Leighton Meester in The Roommate.
Creepy right?
My roommates look nothing like that. In fact, they are certifiable babes. Typically I love getting the homely roommates, don't get me wrong, they make us look better right? But rarely do I have much luck with that, there are just so many pretty girls at BYU-Idaho! Last semester, the apartment next door was chalked full of girls who looked like they'd walked right off of a magazine cover. NO. JOKE. It was ridiculous. We lovingly called them "the supermodels" and maturely avoided them like the plague. haha Well this semester, I think we're gonna give them a run for their money. 
Check it out:
Yea, it's too bad my roommate have such awesome personalities, otherwise I'd probably despise them for their God-given beauty.
I would also like to get on a soapbox for a moment, and point out the modesty oozing from those outfits. Yes ladies, proof that modest is hottest and you certainly don't need to show any cha cha's to get the men-folks attention.

Lets talk stats shall we? 
Take a bite out of this.
(from left to right)
Chrissy: Canadian, Single, 5'11"
Brooklyn: Canadian, Single, 5'9"
Katie:Californian, Single, 5'8"
Lindsay: Oregon(er?), Single, 5'10"
Me (Valerie): Washingtonian, Painfully Single, A measly 5'4"
Hailey: North Carolina, Single, 5'6"

Yea, did you catch those heights?! I am wearing my tallest heels in this photos, and still am not quite reaching them! I don't know what's in these girl's water that makes them so darn tall, but I want some!

Speaking of heels, remember my thoughts about sparkly heels and how every girl should have some?
Well the big jolly red fella heard my plea! I got me some Sparkly heels for Christmas and I am one happy camper! (and yes, I did fall in them the first time taking them out on the town, aka, to church. haha )
And that was that.

 (Pumps: gift (Payless), Skirt: Thrifted, Shirt: Borrowed from Linds, Jacket: Forever 21, Belt: Wet Seal, Face: my momma)

Yea. Check out those pumps. I'm pretty proud. You done good Santa. Watch out world.
Back to roommates. I win. Once I can stop freaking out about money, this will be a good semester.
And that's the way the cookie crumbled. Til next time!

Saturday, January 7, 2012

The Perfect Man.

Have you ever been searching the internet, or (if you are like me) passing the time on Pinterest, and you come across something that is pretty silly, kinda clever, makes you chuckle a little and think "ha. I should make that, regardless of the fact it is purely ridiculous..."? 

I know I have. Like, everyday of my life. And apparently so has my mother. Because of this, I received this for Christmas.

Yes Ladies and Gentleman, I know I ask for it every year, but unlike the puppy I also asked for every year... This year I got one. 
A man.
Do you see it? 
Maybe this will help.
So this is love.

Ridiculous? Yes. 
Pathetic? Possibly. 
Awesome? Absolutely.

He only has one arm... but it's what's on the inside that counts right? 
On the inside, he is fluffy, cuddly goodness. :)

I don't know if I've just taken every break-up a little too poorly, or if my mother has finally realized that yes, I will never be married and is trying to fill a void in my life, but whatever the reason is, I really don't care. This guy is here to stay.

So here's the reasons I've decided EVERY girl needs one of these:
-He ain't a gold-digger, meaning, this dude is cheap. One mens shirt+pillows= love.
-He is honor-code approved (if you are a BYU student, you know what I mean). This guy, is the only guy getting into us ladies bedrooms :)
-He will never have bad breath.
-Seriously, how great of a gift would this be to a girlfriend of yours, single or not!
-He doesn't get handsy. (after all... you need hands in order to run into that issue...)
-No. Commitment. He won't text you while you are on dates, ask you where you are every 5 minutes or forget your anniversary, because frankly, you two won't have an anniversary to forget.
-He is seriously SO comfortable. It's one easy chest to lay on.
-Toss those teddy bears and baby blankets, because once you have this guy, he's hard to sleep without!
-Look at it. Isn't it hilarious? COME ON! WHO WOULDN'T WANT ONE!?
-Most importantly, he will always be there. Always. You won't have to wonder if your are wasting his time, or if there's somewhere else he'd rather be. You won't have to feel self-conscious about not wearing make-up around him. He won't be frustrated that you just want him to hold you while you cry, or that you cannot express what may be upsetting you. He won't pry, but likewise he won't turn on a football game and act like he doesn't care. 

What more convincing do you need? 
Go steal dad's shirt.
Make a man pillow.
Kiss those sleepless and lonely night au revior!

You can thank me later :)
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a man pillow calling my name.

Monday, January 2, 2012

Ringing in the New Year

I decided to skip the Christmas post because lets be honest, no one really cares what I got for Christmas, but I will simply say that I am so blessed, and a post is still to come regarding the coolest must-share gifts. 

On to New Years!
In an alternate reality, I probably would have been out on the town, in a sparkly black dress, drinking fizzy drinks, and dancing frivolous dances until the clock struck twelve, upon which I would have passionately kissed my man and cheers to the new year.

Not this year.

I did have plans, don't get me wrong, I'm not a (complete) loser...
The day was just so fun filled! It started out with an Eagle Cruise on Lake Coeurd Alene. 
(look at that handsome man who's hand I'm holding, what a stud :)
It was a special cruise for scouts and eagle scouts, and I must admit, this little voyage was right up there with airports and auto shops on the I-feel-like-I'm-at-Walmart O-meter. There was quite the crop of interesting characters. Additionally, for being on a boat with a bunch of scouts, I must confess myself VERY disappointed to see this classy elderly lady having to stand. 
(photo courtesy of my extremely creepy stalker skills that we all know and love.) 

Like, Really? None of these perfectly capable young stallions would think to offer up a chair? COME ON!  I didn't have one either, otherwise I would have been all over that like white on rice! 

Yep, I would have offered her my chair while projecting my voice for all to hear. Simultaneously I would have shot some very disappointed and dirty looks in all those scouts directions, for not doing the same. Because I am super polite like that. haha
After the cruise, we ate the most scrumptious of lunches at a chinese buffet. I ate all sorts of colorful sushi's and bright meats, spilled my egg drop soup and blew little jiggly worms (using a straw and a jello cube) at my brother (because let's be honest people, I am an adult.)
 (This is a common interaction between my brother and I... If you look reeeeaaaally closely, you can see my little jello worm coming out of the straw I'm holding!)
I went home, did all sorts of usual productive and awesome activities, painted my nails, and just before leaving for the social light parties, I lost my mind and blew chunks.

Yep. I went crazy, and puked. and puked. and puked.
That kung pow chicken was certainly kunging, and powing the night away. Chinese food:  not my top choice to taste going down and up.

And that was how I rang in the new year.
I went to bed at 9. I am quite the par-tay animal.
I can already tell 2012 is gonna be a good one.