tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19221264808384492712024-03-13T05:16:42.867-07:00my dream car is an old, brown truck-ramblings of a girl whose ambitions haven't really changed since kindergartenAriannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15071240053783956378noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1922126480838449271.post-48853676050471853242013-02-15T14:59:00.000-08:002013-02-15T14:59:09.736-08:00Quick Update<span style="font-size: large;">I've got a really great post about my cat obsession in the works, but I'm kinda busy at the moment with classes, work, the two student journals I volunteer for, and applying for internships; it's gonna be a while.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">But</span><span style="font-size: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">, in the meantime, I've been published! Well, on another blog. Actually, it's the blog for one of the student journals that I'm working on: Stance for the Family.<br />
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Check it out: <a href="http://stanceforthefamily.byu.edu/my-brothers-mission-what-i-did-not-expect/">http://stanceforthefamily.byu.edu/my-brothers-mission-what-i-did-not-expect/</a></span> </span></span>Ariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15071240053783956378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1922126480838449271.post-91219754952917705172013-01-16T20:38:00.000-08:002013-01-16T21:59:14.851-08:00"What's in a name?"<div style="text-align: left;">
I know, I know. I suck at this blog lately. I'm gonna try to be more dependable with my posts... maybe. Maybe one day I'll just publish all of the drafts of unpublished posts on here and you guys can see just how much I filter this thing. We'll see if this one makes it through the screening process.</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">AN<span style="font-size: large;">YWAY...</span></span></b></div>
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I came about the topic of this post in a sort of roundabout way. Let me explain.</div>
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No, there is too much. Let me sum up. <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Have I used this quote on here before? It's highly possible. I'm a sucker for a good Nacho Libre reference.)</span>
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I switched into a Shakespeare class today. I was going to be taking Spanish this semester, but I realized pretty quickly that I just didn't think I could handle it (language classes here are <i>really</i> tedious). I decided last night that the best solution was to push Spanish back to next Fall and pull my required Shakespeare class forward. We're reading "The Taming of the Shrew" <span style="font-size: x-small;">(not Romeo and Juliet. Don't let the title of this post mislead you. I'll get there. I promise. I hope.)<span style="font-size: xx-small;">.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: normal;">Meanwhile, I also work on the student journal for the linguistics department. Actually, I'm the new Managing Editor! But that's a random story for a different random blog post. Moving on, I was at the journal fair this afternoon trying to recruit some fresh meat, and I was talking to my Editor in Chief -or, rather, he was explaining to me- about the different uses of pronouns in Shakespeare and how the uses have sort of reversed since Shakespeare's time. </span><br />
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Tonight, I got home and checked my facebook. The first thing I saw was a post the Editor in Chief had made about the etymology of the word "apron".</div>
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Let me see if I can tie together my thinking process for you guys here. I'm kind of confusing myself as I type it all out. Basically, I started out this morning with a class on Shakespeare. My thought process took a turn when the EC explained a connection between Romeo and Juliet and linguistics. I'm not sure about you guys, but I can't think about Romeo and Juliet without thinking of "That which we call a rose/ By any other name would smell as sweet". And then I saw the EC's post about the etymology of the word "apron".</div>
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Shakespeare-->Romeo and Juliet-->R&J name quote-->Linguistics-->Etymology= "What's in a name?" Which then got me thinking about what's in <i>my</i> name.</div>
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Which is actually a subject that I've happily researched before!</div>
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Did any of that make sense? I didn't really do a good job of "summing up". A better summation probably would have been "I've been thinking lately about the etymology of my name". But I spent a lot of time typing out that explanation above, so I'm not going to delete it. Hopefully anyone who reads this post will instinctively gloss over the first six paragraphs or something. </div>
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So. We've finally reached the actual subject of this post: <span style="font-size: x-large;">my name</span>.<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div>
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I'm pretty dang proud of my name. </div>
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Apparently my mom had a roommate in college who was named Arianne. My mom liked that name so much that she decided to give it to me, her firstborn child and daughter. My dad went along with it because there was a song that he really liked about some girl named "Arianna".
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I think some people dislike their names, or feel that their name doesn't match who they really are, but I have been blessed to never have those complaints. However, I realized at a very young age that my name was not a common one. For as long as I remember, I have had to repeat my name and explain its pronunciation to every teacher, babysitter, new friend, etc. My mom taught me when I was little to tell people who had trouble with it that it was "Mary-Ann without the M". I'm so used to people not saying my name right that I answer to just about anything that starts with a "A" and ends with a "n". I've never really understood why people can't pronounce it, especially when it's written in front of them. I definitely did not understand why the girl reading the announcements in middle school called me "A-ring-ha". <span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: largest;">Sound it out, people!</span></span> <span style="font-size: normal;">When people butcher my name, I always think of this clip from Brian Regan:</span><br />
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Despite everyone else struggling with my name, I've always loved it. However, the constant explanations that my name requires created a strong interest in learning more about my name.</div>
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So, one day after I got home from middle school, I googled the meaning. I had a little trouble finding it at first, but then I discovered that my name comes from the name "Ariadne", a name everyone is familiar with now thanks to <i>Inception</i>. I found two backgrounds. The first was a story from Greek mythology about how a princess named Ariadne saves her true love, Theseus, from death-by-minotaur. Theseus then proceeds to abandon Ariadne on a deserted island. I chose to ignore the Greek background for a long time because I felt it was ominous for my future love life. Instead, middle-school-me latched onto the French translation, which is "most holy". <span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">This was further proof to the already firm belief of middle-school-me that I was incredibly special. </span></div>
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My next move was to look up my brother's name and then rub in the fact that my name was "most holy" and his was "boy of the dale". </div>
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I've long since abandoned my belief that I was holier than all y'all, but I have never lost the pride that I have of my name. I tell my mom frequently that it's a shame for my future daughters, because I refuse to name them after me, which means that they'll never have a name as cool as mine.
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I guess that's the main point of this ridiculously rambling post. <span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I love my name</span>. I think it's swell. I can't imagine being named anything else. </div>
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And to all the people who don't like their name, maybe you should look up where it comes from. If you're lucky like me, it might have a pretty cool history! Even if you have my brother's luck, at least you'll be a little more informed. I encourage everyone to love their names, because I think loving your name helps you love yourself. </div>
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">Unless you're named Lemonjello or something equally ridiculous. If that's you, you should be steadily working towards getting that changed so that you can stop being an urban legend.</span></b></div>
Ariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15071240053783956378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1922126480838449271.post-49412228801847711582012-07-15T22:18:00.000-07:002012-07-15T22:28:52.310-07:00"I made the match, you know.... and to have it take place, and be proved in the right... may comfort me for any thing" -Jane Austen, Emma<br />
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Well, guys, it's been a while. And by a while, I mean a little over 5
months. I admit, it's kind of a big gap. Here's the thing - I don't
like to post about super serious or personal things on this blog. And for
the past 5 months a lot of my attention was devoted to pretty serious and
personal things and thoughts. And the attention that I had left over was
too tired out to put up anything on here. I wrote a lot of drafts,
actually. I think a lot of people would be surprised by just how much I
filter this blog. But, anyway, I digress.<br />
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It's been a while. So, before I get on with the topic of this post,
let me tell you what's been going on with me for the past 5 months.<br />
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No, there's too much. Let me sum up.<br />
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1. I finished my 6th semester at BYU. (And then I realized that that
makes me a senior. And then I started freaking out A LOT.)<br />
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2. I took a leave of absence from the Creamery. (Can you take a "leave
of absence" from a restaurant/grocery store? I can't say that I quit...
I'm going right back there in the fall. (*Gasp* Arianne without the
creamery? Who even is she anymore without ice cream up her arms and
nightmares about EFY rushes?))<br />
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3. I got a job at Aspen Grove! (Hence the leave of absence from the Creamery.
(Ironically, my job up here is to work in the store. I sell t-shirts and
I scoop BYU ice cream. I CAN'T GET AWAY.))<br />
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4. My younger brother, my only sibling, left to serve a mission. (I'm
really proud of him, but it's kind of bittersweet, ya know? (Plus, I have a
feeling that a lot of the attention that was spent on helping him get to that
point in his life is suddenly going to shift to me and getting me to my next
point in life. Which means that I am gearing up for an increase in dating
advice/ pressure/ speculation from my parents and other various friends and
family.))<br />
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Those are probably the biggest things that are worth sharing with the
internet.<br />
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Now, onto your irregularly scheduled dose of my ponderings, speculations,
and slightly ridiculous circumstances.<br />
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I realized the other day that I perhaps have a rather bad habit. And
that habit is <span style="font-size: 24pt;">MATCHMAKING</span>.<br />
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I don't know why, but I enjoy other people's love lives a lot better than my
own. <span style="font-size: 7.5pt;">(Okay, I do know why. Other
people's love lives are lot less scary, stressful, and confusing.)</span>
I love to help my friends find love. And I love being right about who
they fall for.<br />
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When I read Jane Austen's<i> Emma</i> <span style="font-size: 10pt;">(and then watched the 1996 and 2009 film adaptations,
as well as the "Clueless" version),</span> it felt a little bit like
looking into a mirror - only the reflection wasn't necessarily of my outward
appearance, but rather of my approach towards life.<br />
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I've come to realize, as Emma did, that matchmaking sometimes has
unfavorable consequences. Sometimes one of your friends gets rejected
and then you feel super guilty. Sometimes your two friends do hit it off,
but then something goes wrong and they break up and then you feel guilty <i>and</i>
like you have to pick a side. Sometimes, your friends never break up and
they live happily ever after and they forget all about little old you.
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Ok, so that one hasn't happened to me yet, but, honestly, what else should I
expect when setting people up?)</span><br />
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Still, being aware of all of these consequences hasn't resulted in my
stopping my matchmaking tendencies. I think perhaps I've pulled back a
bit. I'm a little more cautious. But I still end up doling out
inordinate amounts of romantic advice to people. <span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
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By the way, why the heck do you guys ask me/ listen to me? I know I
don't actually advertise this, but maybe it's time I did. <span style="font-size: 24pt;"> <b>I have never had a boyfriend. </b></span><b><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Unless you count elementary school ones.</span></b><span style="font-size: 24pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 10pt;"> </span><b><span style="font-size: 18pt;">I have almost zero experience of my own with
guys. I am completely clueless when it comes to that stuff.</span></b><span style="font-size: 10pt;"> </span>And if you don't believe me, I
would like to share this with you as well: There was once a guy who I went on
like five dates with. He also would randomly stop by my place all the time "just
to say hi". It wasn't until a whole year later when I
woke up one day and thought, "Oh... I think he might have liked me.
Whoops". But I digress. Again.<span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
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I had a mini-panic attack today. I've been teasing one of my friends
about a mutual friend of ours for quite a long time (at least two years).
I really am convinced that they could be great together. However, he's
never really seemed to take it to heart and I figured that it would never be
anything other than an inside joke between he and I. <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Or is it him and
I? I know I'm an English major, but I never get this one right. Oh
well. Grammar Nazis, please spare me.)</span> So, the other day we were
chatting, and I brought it up again. And he laughed it off, again.
And I figured, same old, same old, right? <span style="font-size: 10pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 18pt;">Wrong. </span>The next couple of messages I got
from him over the course of the week were about her, and he definitely sounded
like he was actually considering it this time. My feelings on these
developments were the oddest combination of elation, pride, and absolute
horror. Elation because, hey, they would be the cutest thing EVER.
Pride, because <span style="font-size: 18pt;">I was right!</span><span style="font-size: 10pt;"> </span> And horror, because why now? What
if he only liked her because I had finally told him enough times that he
should? What if this was all because I felt like messing around with his
love life instead of mine? <span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
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OK, so, maybe the idea that I had caused this was pretty big-headed of
me. I don't think I'm actually <i>that</i> persuasive. But I was
pretty worried for a little bit that maybe people listened to the crap I
spouted off more than I thought they did. <span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
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Luckily, they don't. He kindly assured me that he had actually been
thinking about this for a while. My teasing had just gotten him to
finally admit it to someone. So you know, all's well that ends well I
guess. And some day when they're married with enough children to form
their own debate team, they'll thank me for my meddling.<span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(And if my friend is reading this, I hope he is laughing and not freaking
out. I was really careful to not include any identifying factors in this
tale. So, it's still just me and you that know, buddy.) </span><span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
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But, I think this whole thing made me sort of turn a corner in my
life. I think I've finally reached the point where the stress levels of
my own romantic expedtitions might be about the same as my interventions into
the lives of my friends.<span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
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... And if the stress is the same, I might as well be a little more selfish
with my energy, right?<span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
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<br /></div>Ariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15071240053783956378noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1922126480838449271.post-82383407517692818452012-01-28T22:36:00.000-08:002012-01-29T18:13:30.961-08:00Can I Just Be Old Already?This last Friday I called my dad for a chat. When he asked me about what I had been up to, I told him the truth: school, homework, work, more homework, with some food and sleep mixed in. Then I asked him what he had been up to that day. His response was something along these lines:<br /><br />"Well, today your mother and I went to boulder city and had breakfast. Then we went geocaching for a while. Then we got some lunch. Then we went to a car show. Then we went to Tony Roma's for dinner and we both had ribs. Now we're watching an episode of Inspector Barnaby."<br /><br />It was one of these moments:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/aw68EEOoJxg?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="560"></iframe><br /><br /></div><br />I'm sorry, I thought young people were supposed to have all the fun? Isn't that what old people are always telling me? Enjoy my youth while it lasts because with old age comes more stress or something? I'm not buying it. I'm pretty sure there's some sort of conspiracy going on here. All of the people ages 40 and up are spinning these terrible tales of adulthood to us young folk, while really it's full of delicious barbecued meat, field trips, and British murder mystery shows. Plus, there's a whole lot of other advantages to being old:<br /><br /><ul><li>You can wear whatever you want and it's ok. Because you're old.</li></ul><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/animanera/1596928458/" title="old-lady-smoking-cigar by Papaver Somniferum, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2349/1596928458_e59a810347.jpg" alt="old-lady-smoking-cigar" height="276" width="400" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><ul><li>If you're nice, everyone likes you. If you're mean, a lot of people still like you because they think it's cute that you're mean and old at the same time.</li></ul><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0WgeNaa73YRMS0F50bMuHQhN7VEYRjl7f8dJmOaUPqCozR5c_fBRwgc3BACKAZVogtzgkcq5K95gz4j7Ooa3VEV3u7vu-veE4BvtDYQbaqA2nsOuqDKuLCBCf-kVvfIps5tIIJeggs0kr/s1600/oldlady.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0WgeNaa73YRMS0F50bMuHQhN7VEYRjl7f8dJmOaUPqCozR5c_fBRwgc3BACKAZVogtzgkcq5K95gz4j7Ooa3VEV3u7vu-veE4BvtDYQbaqA2nsOuqDKuLCBCf-kVvfIps5tIIJeggs0kr/s320/oldlady.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702945963977877314" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><ul><li>Old people can go to bed really early and no one thinks they're weird.</li><li>Old people can stomach weird foods like rice pudding and yams.</li><li>Old people can say really offensive things and people don't get mad because they figure the generation gap is at fault for the rudeness.</li><li>Old people can get out of pretty much anything they don't want to do by simply saying, "Oh, I'm too old for that."<p style="text-align: left;">Basically, that whole "I'm old and I can never have fun like young people again" thing? <span style="font-size:130%;">It's an act.<span style="font-size:100%;"> <span style="font-size:78%;"> It's just this facade that's been put up so young people don't figure out that they're really getting the short end of the stick in life. It's like that daycare in Toy Story 3, when all the new toys get shoved in with the slobbery and evil two year olds while the evil-stuffed-pink-bear-mob-boss guy lives it up across the hall with the nice, fun kids.<br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/JVVtRP5FpH4?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="560"></iframe></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p>My fellow young adults, WE have been shoved in the room with the slobbery and evil two year olds. And I guess that's life. I mean, supposedly, all the old people were young at some point. So we'll get to the nice, fun room in the daycare someday, right?<br /><p style="text-align: left;">Sometimes I just want one of these:</p></li></ul><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/pCUMpN8gMrs?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="420"></iframe></p><p style="text-align: left;">Or I could just wait.<br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">I'm super excited to be old someday. I'm gonna wear muumuus. I'm gonna eat ribs every Friday and I'm not gonna put on any make up ever. I'm going to shake my purse at whippersnappers and get an awesome <a style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);" href="http://crazycoots.com/wp-content/uploads/bumpankles.gif">scooter</a> to ride around in. It's gonna be <span style="font-size:180%;">AWESOME.</span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/fKCr1Hy4Q5Q?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="420"></iframe><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:78%;">P.S. Mom, Dad, and various adults in my life... sorry for calling you "old". </span><br /></p></div>Ariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15071240053783956378noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1922126480838449271.post-86428698475719171462012-01-19T21:00:00.000-08:002012-01-19T22:16:29.614-08:00Feelings of Forever - If my life was like Saturday's Warrior<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Yesterday my friend K--- asked why I hadn't blogged in so long, and I told her the truth. The truth being that I have at least 5 half-written blog drafts saved on here that I never published because halfway through writing them I got bored and decided I didn't actually care what I was writing about. And, really, if I'm not interested in what I'm writing, who is going to be interested in reading it?<br /><br />But, I told her I would find something to blog about soon. I wasn't sure what I was going to write about, but I was determined to find something. And lo and behold, today at lunch the topic of this post floated down to me from the heavens.<br /><br />Today I met my future husband.<br /><br />I was in line at L&T Salads and Soups with my dear friends J----- and A---. We were talking about various things, and I said that I really liked L&T because of such and such reason. And then this guy in front of me turned, looked at me, and opened his mouth to speak. And then it was like I was in Saturday's Warrior. You know, that part where the guys comes back from his mission and he brings the guy he baptized with him. And the RM's girlfriend is there waiting at the airport for him, but then she sees the guy he baptized and they recognize each other from the pre-existence and then they sing this song:<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/RS1Xzhjiq_8?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="420"></iframe><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">So if you trade out the weeping RM for J----- and A---, and trade out the baptized dude for L&T guy and the former girlfriend of the Elder for me, that's pretty much went down.<br /><br />Well, almost anyway.<br /><br />Actually, what went down was more like this:<br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">Me: I like how big the wraps are here. It's like I'm buying lunch and dinner, all at once!</span><br style="font-family:courier new;"><br style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-family:courier new;">L&T guy: (sarcastically) I like how fast this line is moving.</span><br style="font-family:courier new;"><br style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-family:courier new;">Me: Hahaha, yeah! <span style="font-size:78%;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:courier new;font-size:78%;" >(thinking to myself, "Why did I pick today to skip doing my hair?")</span><br /><br />Then we finally got to the front and were ordering our food.<br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">L&T guy: You're ordering it with the spinach tortilla? No way, the tomato one is the best!</span><br style="font-family:courier new;"><br style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-family:courier new;">Me: Not with the Great Ceasar! Spinach is definitely the way to go.</span><br style="font-family:courier new;"><br style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-family:courier new;">L&T guy: Well, as long as you don't get the garlic tortilla. That one is gross! <span style="font-family:georgia;">(I'm sure the L&T people appreciated that.)</span></span><br style="font-family:courier new;"><br style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-family:courier new;">Me: Haha, true!</span><br /><br />And then he paid for his food and left. And then my friends and I paid for our food and went to find a table. And as we were sitting down I started to let out what I had been wanting to say to them for the past ten minutes. "<span style="font-size:180%;">That guy</span>," I began as I looked to my left - and <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Oh Snap</span></span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">that guy</span> was at a table less than two feet away and could probably hear everything I was saying! - ," <span style="font-size:180%;">is</span><span style="font-size:130%;">sssss</span>ss<span style="font-size:85%;">s</span> <span style="font-size:78%;">right next to us</span>."<br /><br />And J----- and A--- laughed at me.<br /><br />And L&T guy ate his food.<br /><br />And I ate my food.<br /><br />And there was no more witty banter about tortillas betwixt us.<br /><br />But, still. We're gonna get married.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMOSFftoia-crigyFRCTF9G2qQ8HQ6TO6rJZJbCzOFxrMQxzfh-31B8oH3xb409UtutRjmTO0hkyY-CMczMSIs4WCvisGgV4EDDv4jhDnR8BkM0bo4TOwbpxOOhvbvNXTwCUXorsBdSoEO/s1600/weirdweddingpic.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 226px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMOSFftoia-crigyFRCTF9G2qQ8HQ6TO6rJZJbCzOFxrMQxzfh-31B8oH3xb409UtutRjmTO0hkyY-CMczMSIs4WCvisGgV4EDDv4jhDnR8BkM0bo4TOwbpxOOhvbvNXTwCUXorsBdSoEO/s320/weirdweddingpic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699589993288455458" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;">What the heck is going on in this picture?? Why is<br />she holding an apple, and why is it the only part<br />of the picture that is in color? Is the apple <span style="font-style: italic;">really</span><br />that significant??</span><br /></div>__________________________________________________________________<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">In other news, today I<br /></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>was incredibly lazy.</li><li>accidentally sent one of my favorite rings down to the BYU laundry.</li><li>ate a cupcake called "Party in Your Mouth" - it should really be called "Chocolate/Hazelnut/Cream Cheese Atomic Bomb in Your Mouth"</li></ul>Ariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15071240053783956378noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1922126480838449271.post-11907733381490635022011-12-04T18:16:00.000-08:002011-12-04T21:10:59.406-08:00I Know What I'm Going to Do Today!I'll admit it: not very many things inspire me. I don't get that excited about things. In fact, most of the time when I'm acting excited about something, I'm faking it. But there is something that continually inspires and excites me. It's witty, it's fun, it has good messages, and it's surprisingly intelligent.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">And I've seen EVERY SINGLE EPISODE.<br /><br /><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/uoV2adaRBWU?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="420"></iframe><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br />I'm not joking. This show is great! Most cartoons these days suck. I mean, they just really, really, <span style="font-weight: bold;">really suck</span>.<br /><br />But Phineas and Ferb is different! The kids practice good values, have CRAZY imaginations, and work hard! And the humor has so many levels! There are jokes and references for adults to enjoy, but unlike other shows that attempt to do the same thing *cough*spongebob*cough*, those are clean too.<br /><br />All in all, it's just good, clean, clever fun.<br /><br />Also, the music is pretty impressive. There's at least one original song in almost every episode (I think <span style="font-style: italic;">maybe</span> the first couple eps are song-less). Here's some of my favorites:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/OA1xAGe5-PM?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="420"></iframe><br /><br /><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/haTNDAch7Vo?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="420"></iframe><br /><br /><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/cY3kqRRzJP0?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="420"></iframe><br /><br /><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/xBJBYaMnhfw?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="420"></iframe><br /><br /><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ccIemIqI3_k?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="420"></iframe><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">I'm gonna have to stop myself from putting more up on here... but it's pretty hard. They're all just so funny and creative!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Also, watching Phineas and Ferb has taught me a few things.<br /><br />1. New words!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">http://phineasandferb.wikia.com/wiki/Forum:P%2BF_Vocabulary<br /></div><br />also<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Evcsj1gx1CE?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="420"></iframe><br /></div><br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">2. There are a million things to do instead of staying inside, bored, watching tv.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/qBny9H8Yd2I?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="560"></iframe><br /><br /><br /></div></div></div><div style="text-align: left;">3. You can never be too obvious when it comes to flirting with a boy.<br /></div><br /><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/qgppHGSQ8GE?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="560"></iframe><br /><div style="text-align: center;">(skip to 3:06)</div></div><br /><br />Also, they have a made-for-tv movie! Which I expected to be lame (as most made-for-tv movies seem to be), but watched anyways when I was sick on Tuesday. And it was fantastic. So fantastic, that I watched it twice. It made me way happier than that homework I had been planning on doing instead.... I'm actually thinking of watching it again, as soon as I get some more of my Spanish homework done (see! I have a smidgen of self control!).<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/4QFNZsIsCDM?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="420"></iframe><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Basically, these two oddly-shaped, crazy kids who are obsessed with platypuses... platypi... platypeople? are my heroes at the moment. Because, seriously, when you're surrounded by end of semester projects and final exams and trying to figure out your future, sometimes it's really nice to be reminded to have some fun.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/joshjoseph/2304100278/" title="Phineas & Ferb by JoshFJoseph, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2273/2304100278_48d60587d6.jpg" alt="Phineas & Ferb" height="307" width="500" /></a><br /></div></div></div><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div>Ariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15071240053783956378noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1922126480838449271.post-89866211241039153382011-11-17T15:00:00.000-08:002011-11-17T15:12:10.407-08:00Life!So, I know I haven't been on here in forever, but something HUGE happened yesterday! Also, I really don't feel like paying attention to my professor right now.<br /><br />ahem.<br /><br /><br />ASHLEY IS ENGAGED! TO HAYDEN! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!<br /><br /><br />If you're reading this and you don't know who Ashley is, she was my roommate for my first two years of college and she's one of my favorite people in the entire world. Imagine the cutest, nicest, most animal-obsessed girl in the world and then multiply that awesome by 10. <br /><br />Ashley, if you're reading this, I would like you to take a little stroll down memory lane to that day over the summer when, after about two months of thinking it, I finally had the guts to say,<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">"I think Hayden really likes you. Like seriously. You better watch out!" <br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">and then you acted like I was crazy and you were like,<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">"What?? No, I don't think so. I'm pretty sure he likes someone else."<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">And even though I said this when you guys started dating, I would like to say it again. <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">I told you so!</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br />Also, I'm really kicking myself for leaving ---- ----- this semester because I heard that there was QUITE a scene when you told everyone. Oh man. I really wish I could have heard Jeramy's screaming. I'm imagining it to be pretty spectacular.<br /><br />I'm pretty dang excited. Because even though I complain about Provo and dating a lot to my friends, I have to admit... <span style="font-size:180%;">I really like weddings.</span><br /><br />Anyway, that's all I really have to say. There were other things that I had thought I should blog about lately, but this engagement excitement has sort of occupied all the free space in my brain.<br /></span></span></div></div></div></div>Ariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15071240053783956378noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1922126480838449271.post-44234379530610119402011-10-20T23:50:00.000-07:002011-10-21T00:03:56.357-07:00Is There a Bachelor's Program for Random Crafting?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8dVef3wxlpG537wyHsU1jTuJwvtdll8e7WjLPC6BhKOSDzPV9vr2gWnwNkMk-iTLCPwa7_lyfAZY9cRL_NnLCYBRLxtfhU2uGfg6NK-61jUusuNK41W1bEZCOJ4aLOBzu6rveEtd_dRvo/s1600/lanterns.jpg"><br /></a><br />My life usually works like this:<br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjes1R64ihy0ixjxnUD3rpzMWFe1q-5lH134_MC5iIU6Vwszhq4q0r9vLzN1giv75xXdSDLI-cAY2aFng0eiWD4khMuiuOp0dvWQ9eesl69yX3az1TXEMBCaoq3af6luzeFWKyJNNFfHckK/s1600/craftchart.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 511px; height: 298px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjes1R64ihy0ixjxnUD3rpzMWFe1q-5lH134_MC5iIU6Vwszhq4q0r9vLzN1giv75xXdSDLI-cAY2aFng0eiWD4khMuiuOp0dvWQ9eesl69yX3az1TXEMBCaoq3af6luzeFWKyJNNFfHckK/s400/craftchart.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662829962184858690" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Sorry for the bad quality. The labels are school, crafts, and work.</span><br /></div><br /><br />The funny thing about being an English major is that all of the professors seem to get together and plot when they should all have their papers due. So what happens is that every 3 weeks or so I'll have 4 papers and sometimes a couple of midterms all at once. Which is always a hassle. But the other weeks are usually just full of reading homework which is cake! I supposed it would be smart to use that downtime to write my papers so that things wouldn't all pile up, but what I usually end up doing instead is doing lots of crafts.<br /><br />I think my roommates think I'm a little silly for liking to do crafts so much, but, as I've tried to explain to them, when a Mormon girl grows up in Las Vegas, there's not much else she can do. Las Vegas isn't really catered to people with standards... So, my friends and I had to get pretty creative to keep ourselves entertained. We decorated shoes, finger-painted, made puppets, painted rocks, made pinatas, and whittled sticks - and this was in my junior year of high school.<br /><br />This last week and a half have been in the low school and high crafting area. I crafted a cool surprise for a favorite friend which I can't show you all because I haven't given it to her yet.<br /><br />However, I can show you this:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8dVef3wxlpG537wyHsU1jTuJwvtdll8e7WjLPC6BhKOSDzPV9vr2gWnwNkMk-iTLCPwa7_lyfAZY9cRL_NnLCYBRLxtfhU2uGfg6NK-61jUusuNK41W1bEZCOJ4aLOBzu6rveEtd_dRvo/s1600/lanterns.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8dVef3wxlpG537wyHsU1jTuJwvtdll8e7WjLPC6BhKOSDzPV9vr2gWnwNkMk-iTLCPwa7_lyfAZY9cRL_NnLCYBRLxtfhU2uGfg6NK-61jUusuNK41W1bEZCOJ4aLOBzu6rveEtd_dRvo/s320/lanterns.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664701969438399586" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">This doesn't show it off very well, but I made a whole bunch of<br />little autumn lanterns! They're actually super cute and easy<br />but my roommate put up a whole bunch of these lights<br />and I'm trying to make a lampshade for every single one...<br />it's taking a whole lot longer than I anticipated.<br /><br /><br /></span></div>and also this:<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4KuWKs6xIFNUSeHeQe8pNuGRL1rXqt3JONkiZUpxC0Qk31NEdURXeLz6aRWWhTEnDrZDQI_pChqk8LOKXsjHGYwbpDyCJO5G3NF3CCUOsYWq0W2R1sBqIX84A12y8PYWpNEfd9VSL5a_x/s1600/photo%25281%2529.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4KuWKs6xIFNUSeHeQe8pNuGRL1rXqt3JONkiZUpxC0Qk31NEdURXeLz6aRWWhTEnDrZDQI_pChqk8LOKXsjHGYwbpDyCJO5G3NF3CCUOsYWq0W2R1sBqIX84A12y8PYWpNEfd9VSL5a_x/s320/photo%25281%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665826373423092162" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">This is my mask for my owl Halloween costume! It's kinda<br />creepy, especially 'cause I'm holding it in front of my space<br />heater in this pic. It doesn't usually have evil glowing<br />red eyes...<br /><br /><br /></span></div>I think I'm almost completely crafted out, which is probably a good thing. I still have to make the shirt for my owl costume, but I think after that I'm gonna need a craft fast.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Other Life Updates</span></span><br /></div><br />I got a new car! Well, new in that it is new for me. It was actually made in '84, but it is in impressively good condition and only has 65,000 miles. I love it! Like seriously, words cannot describe how cool I think this thing is. It's basically the <span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >best thing ever</span> times a trillion. My mom says its a grandma car, but that's probably best as I've been told before that I drive like a grandma. It took a lot of deliberation deciding on what to call it. The previous owners had called it Puff, but I wanted to call it "Miss Daisy" due to its birthday and so that I could say I was "Driving Miss Daisy". However, I finally conceded to my mom's idea, "Marsha Mellow," because I think it just really looks like a Marsha.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpGNiW-3O3bFo5iKnaLqAY_EAxauBE817ifcV0ssTx1qlG9HdnqtutdRiG2iWR0Bkh1Rio8-Tl_j-o3Baa07DZ73sBhe9ZvEBVgqSBJHuDwHX6STk_fW4DqjGP0C_Cpqngf91aOPo01GcR/s1600/photo.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpGNiW-3O3bFo5iKnaLqAY_EAxauBE817ifcV0ssTx1qlG9HdnqtutdRiG2iWR0Bkh1Rio8-Tl_j-o3Baa07DZ73sBhe9ZvEBVgqSBJHuDwHX6STk_fW4DqjGP0C_Cpqngf91aOPo01GcR/s320/photo.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664706646651712722" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Tah-dah!</span><br /></div><br />Also, today was crazy at work. While I was supervising this morning, the grill freakin' caught on fire! There were giant flames shooting out the back. I tried to smother it with a giant pan and sent one of the people on my team to grab the manager and the fire extinguisher, and the fire department was also called. We got it put out before the firefighters arrived, but it was intense. And there I am worrying about the grease catchers in the ceiling catching on fire as well 'cause the flames from the grill are getting <span style="font-size:130%;">HIGH</span>, and there's the rest of my team, taking pictures and running down to the grill with mini marshmallows on plastic forks to roast. Finally, the managers arrived on the scene, but there was a couple minutes where in my head, I was screaming like a maniac and running around in circles. I handled it scarily well on the outside though. While the managers were debating on how to best put it out, I sent the rest of the employees over to ice cream while <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">I continued to make the burgers that were on the grill</span></span>. In my defense, I really didn't want to have to refund 12 people for their food. It's a hassle. And the one woman who I did have to refund acted like it was all my fault that the grill was on fire! I mean, she could see the flames, what the heck did she want me to do?! They were getting ready to hose it down with the fire extinguisher! And it wasn't any of our faults. Apparently whoever has the job of cleaning back there hasn't been doing it... like at all. I don't know whose job that is, but I know its not mine or any of the regular restaurant employees.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhuhNcy53MuLyvuRnRUmK7UQrrPOn5vKcUgZxYxPq86HBGZCW5pdqCf9zRvmvX4_c5lIosyfaUZd0w-OY7IOUaHG0HwNOu6rhXldZw-fMCz3FcsRsNF4E8odppqdVH-Fc2ssrmdAHaaMbD/s1600/creameryfire.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 237px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhuhNcy53MuLyvuRnRUmK7UQrrPOn5vKcUgZxYxPq86HBGZCW5pdqCf9zRvmvX4_c5lIosyfaUZd0w-OY7IOUaHG0HwNOu6rhXldZw-fMCz3FcsRsNF4E8odppqdVH-Fc2ssrmdAHaaMbD/s320/creameryfire.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665831795147665746" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Picture courtesy of one of my goofball team members, haha.<br />It got wider and even a little taller than this.<br /></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">Tonight was also the night I was supposed to supervise the closing restaurant shift. We had a line to the door almost the entire time. The drains were clogged and so the kitchen was flooded and gross and the dishes had to be done in the supply closet with the hose and drain. And then one of the drains for the dipwells was completely clogged up too!<br /><br />So basically, I'm pooped. And yet, I'm wide awake too. I guess today was just too bizarre for my system to handle.<br /><br /><br /></div></div>Ariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15071240053783956378noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1922126480838449271.post-85902216461197853712011-09-30T12:13:00.000-07:002011-09-30T13:25:05.338-07:00I Almost Ruined My Life This WeekI have a problem. And this problem is called being overly rational. And while normally its not such a bad thing, there is a small part of me that always wants to be rash. Occasionally, the rash part of me gets so sick of being shut down by my rational side that it tries to stage a coup. This usually results in my feeling so bored that I come up with a crazy plan that I'm completely serious about doing. And then I call my mom to tell her about my "awesome" plan and then she (thankfully) talks me out of it. And then the coup is defeated and I go back to Logical-Land.<br /><br />Unfortunately, my rash side has gotten smarter. It waited until my mom was on a cruise in Mexico so that I couldn't reach her when my rationality was under siege.<br /><br />I became convinced that it was a fantastic idea to proclaim to all the internet that I was interested in a boy. I wrote the blog post. I used his name. I was going to tag him in it on facebook. It was really well written, actually. It was full of humor and wit and whatnot, and if you had read it, I would have been your hero. Seriously, you would have had your fist in the air, shouting "Yeah!"<br /><br />Actually, it was published for two whole minutes. And I was on facebook, in the act of tagging him to the link, when the guy my friend was on the phone with told her to stop me. <span style="font-size:130%;">Thank you, guy-on-the-phone!</span> If it wasn't for him, I would have been the talk of Provo. I would have had to hide in my house so as to avoid crazy looks from passerby. It would have been pretty bad. And the worst part is that <span style="font-size:78%;">I still kinda want to do it<span style="font-size:100%;">.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I really wish I could post it without incurring the aforementioned social wrath so that you all could see what a crazy state of mind I was in. I guess the best way that I can describe it to you is <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/ucumari/615001867/">this</a>.<br /></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">In other news, those of you who are friends with me on facebook probably saw this status:<br /><br /></span></span></span><h6 style="text-align: center;" class="uiStreamMessage" ft="{"type":1}"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="messageBody translationEligibleUserMessage" ft="{"type":3}">"Dear British Boy talking next to me in the library,<br /> <br /> I'm having a LOT of trouble concentrating on my homework instead of your awesome accent.... But it's ok. No, really. Keep talking.<br /><br /> -Arianne"</span></span></h6><div style="text-align: left;">You probably thought it was kinda funny. I meant it to be. You probably thought to yourself "Oh, that silly Arianne. What an excellent diversion for 5 seconds of my life."<br /><br />All I have to say to that is, "<span style="font-size:180%;">But wait, there's more!<span style="font-size:100%;">"</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">Yesterday, one of my coworkers told me a story. The story went something like this:<br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:webdings;"></span>Once upon a time a girl named Arianne posted a status<br />on facebook about a cute British boy distracting her with<br />his accent in the library. Arianne's friend A-----, who was<br />also in the library, saw this status and thought, "hmm,<br />I have a British friend of the male variety, how funny!"<br />And then A----- looked around and saw Arianne sitting in<br />the corner. And then she looked to the right of Arianne<br />and saw her British friend sitting next to her. And then<br />A----- proceeded to message said boy on facebook and<br />encourage him to say "Sorry for distracting you, Arianne!"<br />And he did and they lived happily ever after.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Well, that last sentence was a lie. Although A----- told him to, he did not apologize to me for being so distracting. But wouldn't that have been hilarious if he had? I would have been properly shocked and mortified. It would have made a <span style="font-style: italic;">fantastic</span> most-embarrassing-moment story.<br /><br />I remember there being a lot more that I wanted to say in this post, but now I can't remember any of it. Typical.<br /></div></div></div>Ariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15071240053783956378noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1922126480838449271.post-36508628513342714872011-09-23T14:55:00.000-07:002011-09-23T16:40:10.767-07:00A Post About Fashion?? Weird...Girls, I want to reintroduce something to you. It's called a "scrunchie," and it is Heaven's gift to hair. Scrunchies are fun, poofy, and they don't make an ugly line in your hair like regular hair ties do. I never stopped wearing scrunchies, 'cause I think they're fan-freaking-tastic, but it seems like the fashion world is catching on as well. I mean look at these:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zakkaart/6126901002/" title="zakka-style scrunchie by zakkaart, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6197/6126901002_c3b9ba0bd5.jpg" alt="zakka-style scrunchie" height="500" width="375" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">So cute!<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:100%;">And I just ordered this one from Tilly's last night:<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAYbjfI1cwF6tCQCVp2vjXtsHEZBZBYv2XKtxIR9OxogLLDnKiZLR3VzESy_VB8e5_h7NJNgUFKFai7xqxNt8Wxf87kT-pCP6qCxYH_HSochBQ-dvVlV_iqcvBjXJzo3GRFQTBUhvlloOP/s1600/scrunchie.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAYbjfI1cwF6tCQCVp2vjXtsHEZBZBYv2XKtxIR9OxogLLDnKiZLR3VzESy_VB8e5_h7NJNgUFKFai7xqxNt8Wxf87kT-pCP6qCxYH_HSochBQ-dvVlV_iqcvBjXJzo3GRFQTBUhvlloOP/s400/scrunchie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655701768435390370" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Adorable!!</span><br /></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />I'm just saying, if you want to be as wonderfully fashion forward as I am (<span style="font-size:78%;">the girl who wishes she could wear overalls all the time so she wouldn't have to worry about her pants falling down anymore</span>), you will run off to the store and buy yourself some scrunchies, pronto. And if you don't, that's ok too, cause I'll keep the industry alive with my scrunchie needs alone.<br /><br /><br /><br />Also, does anyone know where I could find some super cute cowgirl boots? I can't find good ones ANYWHERE. It makes me cry.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></div></div>Ariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15071240053783956378noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1922126480838449271.post-84986192617976259712011-09-19T20:26:00.000-07:002011-09-21T09:57:56.324-07:008 Reasons Why Cows Are My Favorite<div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/echoelin/3821124704/" title="Cows!! by echoelin, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3431/3821124704_28fcda0454.jpg" alt="Cows!!" height="500" width="333" /></a><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">1. They're black and white, as is everything that is sophisticated and classy.</span><br /><br />2. They make funny noises.<br /><br />3. They're funnily shaped.<br /><br />4. They appreciate jazz music.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/lXKDu6cdXLI?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="560"></iframe><br /></div><br />5. They have excellent dance moves.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/FavUpD_IjVY?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="560"></iframe><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">6. From cows we get cheese. And ice cream. And hamburgers (sorry, cows!).<br /><br />7. You CANNOT tip cows. It's a myth. But I didn't use to know that and I wanted to tip a cow really REALLY badly.<br /><br />8. Cows and people often exhibit strange similarities.<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><ul><li>For example, tonight I helped set up the ward opening social. All of the people were scattered across the yard, but when we start putting out the food, all of a sudden everyone started converging into one giant mass, staring at the food and pawing at the ground, waiting for us to step away so that they could bury their faces in the trough. And there was groaning.</li><li>Cows have more than one stomach. And while many of you might be under the impression that humans do not have more than a single stomach, my friend, W-----, assures me that we do. Our second stomach is called the "desert stomach," and it explains why after we've eaten three days worth of turkey and stuffing on thanksgiving and don't think we could possibly eat another bite, we're suddenly hungry again when the pie is brought out.</li><li>Cows have herds. People totally have herds too.</li><li style="text-align: left;">British cows/ people are automatically cooler than cows/ people from other places.</li></ul><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/peterpearson/3438060421/" title="Cow by peter pearson, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3410/3438060421_4cf2dde485.jpg" alt="Cow" height="333" width="500" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:78%;">This is a shaggy British cow! See! Automatically cooler.<br /><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div></div></div></div>Ariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15071240053783956378noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1922126480838449271.post-38204712854417616242011-09-16T10:09:00.000-07:002011-09-16T09:10:00.453-07:00Mom<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">It's my mom's birthday! And I've got some stuff I want to say:</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br />Mom, thanks for everything. Thanks for all the time and energy you spent on me. Thanks for being my taxi for 18 years. Thanks for always giving it to me straight. Thanks for loving Dad. Thanks for being a mom instead of just someone with money and food. Thanks for being my best friend. Thanks for watching PBS shows with me. Thanks for teaching me to love reading. Thanks for teaching me how to cook. Thanks for teaching me what kind of soap goes in the dishwasher. Thanks for teaching me how to do laundry. Thanks for loving to travel. Thanks for teaching me honesty. Thanks for teaching me modesty. Thanks for letting us have dogs even though they're a pain. Thanks for letting us have a cat so we could see how much better they are than dogs. Thanks for teaching me to have plan b's. Thanks for not making me shave my head when I got lice. Thanks for trying my whole life at home to teach me to be clean and organized. I know you never thought I'd figure it out, but I finally have! ... can you come down and teach everyone else now please? Thanks for wanting me to have parties and then not making me have any more after </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family:georgia;" >that one time</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">. Thanks for telling me I need to "step it up" with my flirting exertions- you're right haha. Thanks for wanting me to have cute clothes. Thanks for conning me into getting rid of all my old high school t-shirts. Thanks for encouraging me to move on when I messed up. Thanks for liking to paint pottery with me. Thanks for telling me not to panic and that I still have time to figure out what to do with my life. Thanks for taking me to get my hair fixed after I tried to cut my own bangs. Thanks for not calling them "little house on the prairie bangs" like the hair stylist did. Thanks for always wanting to fight anyone that's ever hurt me. Thanks for teaching me to be tough. Thanks for letting me be silly sometimes.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Mom, sorry for everything. Sorry that I rejected all of the clothes that you suggested in middle school without even looking at them. Sorry that my room was never clean after the day that you had me clean it. Sorry that I always tried to get out of doing dishes. Sorry that I didn't clean the litter box every week like I was supposed to. Sorry that I stopped growing in the 6th grade and you lost the bet with dad. Sorry that I said the other day that there was no way I was going to get married the same day as you and dad 'cause you got married in freaking January; it's actually kinda growing on me now. Sorry that I broke Great Grandma's vase that one time in Kentucky. Sorry that I always figured out the passwords that you put on the TV. Sorry that I thought you were completely insane when you said you liked to clean. Sorry that I said your shoes looked like a witch's shoes. Sorry that I steal your socks and slips. Sorry that I can't spend as much time in a museum as you can. Sorry that we'll never figure out how to make Grandma's bread like she does. Sorry that I didn't say all this stuff a long time ago.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Sorry that you couldn't be everyone's mom. </span> <span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br />Thanks for being mine.</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW4DT4owWUfqSc6siPfAcXdQ6SM2s0uC8szSEC0A3eTGjQFslLob7KO1BReF6bPXk99GzgL3feJGiXWBRxQWw_0dKLo0WN-RxcU7snhG1wpxUZbQ678bOHJ0lCYP87Oa70SsyErUxHU52c/s1600/Mom+maid.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW4DT4owWUfqSc6siPfAcXdQ6SM2s0uC8szSEC0A3eTGjQFslLob7KO1BReF6bPXk99GzgL3feJGiXWBRxQWw_0dKLo0WN-RxcU7snhG1wpxUZbQ678bOHJ0lCYP87Oa70SsyErUxHU52c/s320/Mom+maid.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652779239926605234" border="0" /></a>Ariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15071240053783956378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1922126480838449271.post-72167915186594833792011-09-11T19:33:00.000-07:002011-09-11T20:07:21.566-07:00TODAY WAS SO WEIRD.Today I went to my old ward so that I could play games with one of my favorite people in the world, J-----, and one of our guys friends from last year. The playing games part was fun. Going to my old ward was... surreal. There were a lot of people there that I knew, but I wasn't in their ward anymore. I didn't feel as connected. Add that to the fact that the ward has like 70 new people, and I felt completely out of place. It was like I was just there to observe, a fly on the wall looking into this new edition of the 22nd ward.<br /><br />I went home and shook it off, and then my friends and I decided to walk to the Marriot Center for the CES fireside. We were walking through campus, when all of a sudden this guy walks out of the pathway next to us, AND I KNOW HIM. It's the little brother of my friend that I've known since kindergarten! I KNOW HIM!<br /><br />And before I can stop myself, I yell, "D----- -----!" He whips around, looks at me, looks super confused, and then says, "...Yes?" <span style="font-size:78%;">(that awkward moment when you recognize someone and they don't recognize you back)<span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span>And then I say, "I'm Arianne Glick!"<br />Luckily, that jogged his memory, because how awkward would that have been if it hadn't? And really, it was impressive that he even remembered my name, considering we hadn't even talked since he was like 5. And then I was really super awkward. The whole time. What do you even say in that situation? "How's life been since you were five?" I had kept in touch with my friend, his brother, but all I really could remember about D----- was that he had said his favorite him was Jesus, not realizing we were talking about <span style="font-style: italic;">hymns</span>. <br /><br />So yeah. It was awkward, and my friends were staring which was awkward. AWKWARD. And I quickly skidaddled (<span style="font-size:78%;">skaddadled? skadaddled? skiddaddled? HOW THE HECK DO YOU SPELL THAT??<span style="font-size:100%;">)</span></span> out of there.<br /><br />Finally, we get to the Marriot Center and find some seats. The two seats next to me are being saved by another group. I don't really think about it at all until the girls that the seats are being saved for. They're doing the awkward shuffle-past down to there seats, and I look at one of the girls as she passes, AND I KNOW HER. It's my roommate from freshman year! The one that my friend from kindergarten dubbed Harpoon H----- because of her love of pirates! And I yell, "H-----!" And luckily, she recognizes me and stuff. And we play a little catch up, and it's fine and cool and really good to talk to her. <br /><br />But this whole day I've felt like my past is just colliding with my present. Everything is normal and then BAM! it's someone I haven't talked to in FOREVER and all these memories and feelings of de ja vu are smothering me and I feel like the next thing I know, I'll be 7 years old all of a sudden and reliving everything.<br /><br />So, yeah. Today was weird. And now I'm hiding in my room, because if I run into my old choir teacher next or something I might implode.Ariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15071240053783956378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1922126480838449271.post-77244289687029612652011-09-09T17:14:00.000-07:002011-09-09T17:21:08.209-07:00One More ThingWhose idea was it to style poor Miss Kosovo's hair like this for the Miss Universe photo shoot?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxLco8iJfZZNm2LCxYc5GMBC0Qc9xjJQCZEPU56kwBGUPgx9onw-LqrdUZY_N2FOBSj7OqhESE4dGB8SluR77oHvgMvQmZAl222KK7nTYMQY-pEboQF_lpIn3vu8539EJXiGE_pODg_6qR/s1600/misskosovo.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 258px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxLco8iJfZZNm2LCxYc5GMBC0Qc9xjJQCZEPU56kwBGUPgx9onw-LqrdUZY_N2FOBSj7OqhESE4dGB8SluR77oHvgMvQmZAl222KK7nTYMQY-pEboQF_lpIn3vu8539EJXiGE_pODg_6qR/s320/misskosovo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650519038576377154" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />She looks like Megamind.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/moviepostershop/4988300836/" title="Megamind movie poster by Movie Poster Shop, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4148/4988300836_aa739a834a_m.jpg" alt="Megamind movie poster" height="240" width="162" /></a></div>Ariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15071240053783956378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1922126480838449271.post-48014864104702307682011-09-07T18:47:00.000-07:002011-09-11T20:11:02.708-07:00A Small Look into My BrainWhat is up with everyone wearing those feathers in their hair? They're not even cute peacock feathers, they look like they were plucked off of pheasants. Whenever I see a girl with one of those stupid feathers, it makes me think of this:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/z8weRN5gJis" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="345" width="420"></iframe><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;">(skip to 3:42)<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;">Also, my new house has been having a lot of scary spiders lately. My roommate says it's cause they're looking around for mates. Which is extra scary. When my fear of giant spiders was combined with my fear of criminals caused by me watching the new episode of Inspector Lewis this weekend, I spent Sunday night afraid that something like this was going to attack me:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/NjRlA_byuhU" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="345" width="420"></iframe><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">(skip to 2:41)</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Also, every time I look at my professor for ENGL 291, all I can think about is how he strangely looks like this guy<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/aumanack_photo_show/5644142105/" title="THOR by Aumanack - Diversão Sem Limite Photos, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5063/5644142105_bd6675e394.jpg" alt="THOR" height="500" width="473" /></a><br /></div><br />and this guy<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/phideltatheta/3102115691/" title="Mark-DeCarlo by pdtghq, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3198/3102115691_d79b39b661_m.jpg" alt="Mark-DeCarlo" height="168" width="143" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />all at once. It's weird.<br /></div></div></div></div>Ariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15071240053783956378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1922126480838449271.post-40157029810060528362011-09-01T23:00:00.000-07:002011-09-02T00:00:19.637-07:00College Students Say The Darnest Things<span style="font-size:130%;">Alright, everyone, let's have a little flashback to that time that you watched "Mean Girls". Forget about how it was often raunchy and crude, and focus in on all the little hidden truths in there. Like how girls </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >really can be MEAN.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> And how sometimes you can be best friends with someone one year and the next year they accuse you of being a lesbian and then steal your silly little Santa Claus Girl dance routine. And how no one is really sure what second cousins are. And sometimes, people have something called "word vomit". </span><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(note: I want to assure all of my readers as I just had to assure my mom that there isn't anyone being mean to me and that no one has called me a lesbian and stolen my dance routine. It's from the movie.)</span></span>
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<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/debbiedoescakesnet/5129526609/" title="vomiting pumpkin cake! by debbiedoescakes, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1177/5129526609_60cf3fff99.jpg" alt="vomiting pumpkin cake!" height="500" width="375" /></a>
<br /></div>
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I have word vomit quite a lot actually. Some people give it another name; they say I'm "blunt". They don't always mean it in a good or funny way either. Oops.
<br />
<br />Sometimes being blunt helps keep me honest and reduces miscommunication. Sometimes though, word vomit just makes me look stupid. Like today.
<br />
<br />Today, I had my student development class. It's supposed to help me choose a career and then figure out how to get it. So that's handy. We were all going around introducing ourselves, and we had to say something </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >REALLY</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> unique about ourselves. Seriously, if the professor didn't think it was unique enough, he made you keep talking until you said something more satisfactory. I said that I was a descendant of Old King Cole. He didn't think that was quite enough, and he asked me to give them some more details on that. And I couldn't stop it. I tried to keep that word vomit in, but it just spewed out of my mouth for the whole class to hear, "Well, all I know is that he's my ancestor and that</span> <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">he was a merry old soul</span><span style="font-size:100%;">."<span style="font-size:85%;">
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<br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Yeah. I said that. He stopped pestering me after that.</span></span>
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<br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zerodiscipline/5518618770/" title="Old King Cole Illustration by Zero Discipline, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5134/5518618770_183e7aa69c.jpg" alt="Old King Cole Illustration" height="500" width="400" /></a>
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<br /><span style="font-size:78%;">It's ok though, 'cause right after that a guy got up and said that for fun he had a giant tire in his backyard that he likes to push from one end to the other. Over and over again. Yep.</span>
<br /></span>Ariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15071240053783956378noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1922126480838449271.post-46303028362168162382011-08-29T20:48:00.000-07:002011-08-30T07:12:52.726-07:00Update!
<br />What ho, what ho! Soooo, I've been pretty lazy about posting on here, but in my defense, I tried to post updates twice before now, but there were quite a few technical difficulties that resulted in my giving up each time. BUT! I'm going to persevere through this one.
<br />
<br />Anyway, I didn't really have anything to blog about. After my first post, my life for about a week and a half consisted of working, eating, watching season 5 of Psych, and sleeping. And then I ran out of Psych episodes and I threw in some Twin Peaks to mix it up a bit. So yeah. Not too exciting.
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<br /><div style="text-align: left;">But lo! Finally it was time for my four-ish day break at home! Yay!
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">
<br />Just a small tangent here about the aforementioned term "ish". Today, a girl
<br />in one of my three English classes requested that we all call her "ish" instead
<br />of her real name because she felt that "ish" was more memorable. She's right,
<br />I won't ever forget to call her that. But, still. It was incredibly bizarre.
<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">
<br /></span></span></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span>I awakened in the wee hours of the morning to catch my flight home, and withing twenty moments after the landing, I was at a surprise dental appointment! What joy! Oh, the trials of being the daughter of a dentist. Jk. Sort of. And the next day I had a very enjoyable doctor's appointment in which I learned that the reason that I've been having so much trouble breathing since January is because not only do I apparently have asthma, but I also simultaneously have a sinus infection, a respiratory infection, and allergies! <span style="font-size:78%;">Which made me feel a lot better about that one day that I tried to go on a mere mile run and ended up only lasting half a mile and then hobbling home to lie in bed wheezing for the next two days.</span>
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<br />The rest of the weekend was a lot more enjoyable, of course. There was super yummy food provided by my mom. There was a lot of time watching our new favorite show, Jeeves and Wooster. And there was a lot of shopping! I told my mom that I needed to buy a few new shirts while I was home, and she said," Arianne, you need to step up your game! [<span style="font-size:78%;">ouch! hehehe, she's right<span style="font-size:100%;">] <span style="font-size:130%;"> If you get rid of all of those old baggy boy t-shirts, I will buy ten new shirts for you." Well, I'm not stupid. I took her up on that deal, and the first thing I did when I got back to Provo was to pack up all of my ugly school and freebie t-shirts (along with some old, ugly pjs and sweats) into a basket which was promptly placed in my van, who shall hereafter be referred to be her name, Bertha, where they are awaiting their doomed journey to the DI.
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<br />Also, today in my English class that's at the evil hour of 8-in-the-freaking-morning, the professor made us watch possibly the most uncreative video about being creative. The host was some photographer named "Dewitt," and every time he looked at the camera it looked like this.
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<br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/cz/537614246/" title="Creepy doll eyes by crazy_1, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1245/537614246_8d98a1328c.jpg" alt="Creepy doll eyes" height="375" width="500" /></a></span></span>
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<br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Well, I think that's enough for now. Pip pip!</span></span></span><span style="font-size:130%;">
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<br />Ariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15071240053783956378noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1922126480838449271.post-77312461323587685732011-08-19T11:07:00.000-07:002011-08-19T11:11:45.718-07:00A Very Quick PostI'm getting on here purely to promote another blog. I know, lame. BUT, it's amazing. And this particular post almost made me pee my pants laughing because it's SO STINKIN' TRUE. I related to it a lot. And I'm a little worried that my friends might read it and say, "Oh My Gosh! This sounds just like Arianne!"
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<br />Sigh... I <span style="font-style: italic;">am</span> improving. A little.
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<br />Anywho, here's the link. Read it. Love it. Live by it. The Anti-Austen:
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<br />http://byudates.blogspot.com/2011/08/public-advisory.html
<br />Ariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15071240053783956378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1922126480838449271.post-5232909298480032122011-08-14T16:52:00.000-07:002011-08-14T17:40:48.225-07:00Starting Over
<br />Hehehe, well, this is my second go at a blog. I quit my last one for a lot of reasons, but I'm hoping I can handle this one better. And, well, since I just made some major changes to my life, a blog feels like something that can help me hold it all together. I moved! I decided I needed to move last Friday, and this Friday I did it. It was probably the quickest I've ever made a decision and acted upon it ever. I mean, it took me like a month to decide to go to BYU- something that I've wanted to do since kindergarten-, whereas it only took me like two days to decide to move- something I really wasn't sure at all I wanted- and four more days to do it. I'm not sure if this means that I'm growing up, or if it just means that I'm growing stupid. But I guess I'll find out! All of my new roommates seem really nice! It's kind of strange though. I've lived with the same two girls since I started college, and now that I've left that its completely blowing my mind just how big a difference there is between living with friends and living with roommates! I have confidence though that I'll be able to become good friends with these girls too... it's just gonna take a while. I just need to get some good inside jokes with them asap so things feel more comfortable. On the plus side, even though logically I know that this move of mine should be terrifying, I really have only been feeling peace and confidence in my decision. I really do think it was the right thing to do. I was entirely too comfortable before, and if I had stayed where I was I wouldn't have gained any new experiences this year. And I think that that's a lot about what this time of my life should be about- experiencing lots of different things and different people. So, in my head I'm a little nervous, but on the whole I'm not regretting my decision! I only had one little moment of panic- while my new roommate was moving in, a large rodent showed up (in a cage) in our living room. It's a chinchilla, I guess. It really is cute, but all I could think about was how noisy and smelly it would probably be! And I thought, "Oh no! I've just moved in with a rat-loving lunatic!" It turns out one of our roommates was just babysitting it for a friend while his apartment had cleaning checks haha.
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<br />In other news, I'm really loving this band, Stars. Most of their songs aren't anything too special, but I can't stop listening to Your Ex-Lover Is Dead and Ageless Beauty.
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<br />In other other news, my roommates asked me if I was an artist when I moved in...HAHAHAHA! Yeah, my stick figures with feathers and beads glued on are really high quality art. Don't other people just get really bored sometimes and paint things to kill time?
<br />Ariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15071240053783956378noreply@blogger.com2