Do I Feel Lucky? Well, do ya?

Apart from twisting my ankle and having my mother yell at me about my room, its been a pretty lame day. Why, you may ask?
Well that's very polite of you to care to ask.


I am under a curse at the moment.  Heavens, if only I lived in Harry Potter Land and found a counter-curse for this curse, I would share that secret with you.  But, alas, I live in not-Potter-Land and I must face reality.  And in this reality I am cursed.  What do you do when you are under a week long curse? Find a way to laugh.


I've always been good at making myself laugh.  I'm my own #1 entertainer.  


When I am under the curse that I am under, I usually have one of two options. 


Option number one: just like every other woman who does not live in England and attended Hogwarts, I deal with my curse in a horrible, shameful manner.  I become a witch.  But not like Hermione. No.  I don't become intelligent and helpful.  I turn into the wicked witch of the west.  (Ya, Wizard of Oz reference).  I ride around on a broomstick, yelling, kicking dogs, trying to kill innocent Dorthys of the world. 

Option numero dos: I cry
A LOT


Normally it's option 1.  I've decided that I like option 2 better.  Simply because when I start crying while I'm cursed, I also am laughing at myself.  I can't laugh at myself when I turn into a witch, cuz lets be honest, it's not funny.  


I don't really have a choice in the matter, it depends on my brain I guess.  We all know that thing isn't very reliable.  


This past curse has a story that is extremely entertaining (lucky you!)  
So Harry Potter came out this weekend. (Oh is that why I've been shamelessly making Potter references?)  Obviously everyone has seen it.  So you won't mind when I tell you I got quite emotional during many of the scenes.  That wasn't the terrible part.  


The day after I watch the end of the most amazing series of my life, I got emotional.  And not in a quietly-thinking-to-myself-how-to-go-on, but in a curled-up-in-the-fetal-position-on-my-bed way.  I was sobbing.  SOBBING!  I couldn't stop crying.  I laid in bed and tried to take deep breaths, open my airways and calm down.  But then it came right back to me, Fred died! Snape was an angel who lived the most tragic life EVER!  I couldn't go on.  I felt I wasn't being dramatic enough, so I stood up, looked at my bed, gasped dramatically and let my knees buckle and fell back on to my bed sobbing.  

Nut job right?  

Thankfully, I was fully aware that I was being insane so I laughed at myself after I fell back on the bed.  Still, it didn't change the fact that when I got on the internet a few hours later and saw that Jennifer Lopez is getting a divorce, I fell apart again.  I have dark, saggy circles under my eyes from crying all night.  Once I think of something sad, it can turn into an evil snowball of sadness.  Why did Gerald Butler have to die in P.S I Love You?  Why couldn't Sirius Black have lived?  Why could nobody ever find Waldo? Or Carmen Sandiego? 

Yes I cried today.  I was upset with my messy room and twisted ankle.  And my toenail just isn't growing in right.  But fortunately my curse will be over with and I can and will enjoy laughing at myself. Which, have I mentioned, is one of my greatest talents?

Adventures With Chivelings

First thing in the morning? Yes please

What's a girl to do? Pretend that they aren't adorable? Act like I don't notice that they are hilarious?
Call them my brother and sister when they are still "the babies"? Actually my awesome nickname for them is Chivelings, like chives, only since their little I added "lings".  The things I do to entertain myself.


The fact that I entertain them as much as I entertain me is a testament that we three are basically soul mates.  And by soul mates I mean I get along with them better than I do with most kids their age.  


So, checklist of summer adventures with the chivelings? ...

• watch each and every Harry Potter movie together
• bake chocolate chip cookies (eat more dough than actually baked cookies)
• singing along (mostly just dance) to Michael Jackson
• read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone via flashlight when the power goes out in the middle of the first movie
• take them surfing in town for the first time
• go early morning skateboarding
• convince them that I did, indeed, receive a letter from Hogwarts when I was eleven saying I was accepted
• have them figure out that I did not, in fact,  receive a letter from Hogwarts when I was eleven saying I was accepted
• play monkey in the middle and be shamefully defeated by a 10 and 9 year old
• teach Kason a new piano piece, teach Kaile how to not suck at painting her nails

 and last but not least, today we watched the Harry Potter documentary together, seriously debating the best and worst aspects of each movie and ultimately deciding that Voldemort is very much a bad guy, and the Prisoner of Azkaban was the best movie, but Goblet of Fire has the best action scenes.




And just in case you have never seen them act out Nacho Libre scenes:

I gained like 5 pounds of awesome this weekend

Southern Cali. Oh what a dream.  Katy Perry is not exaggerating, there is something about California girls.  Take for example my friend Clare Facer.  What a doll.  She is so stinking cute in all aspects of life its mind-blowing.  She was born on the 4th of July, which means that when I'm not feeling too patriotic one year, I have a back-up for celebrating July 4th.  Thus was this year (kidding, I'm super patriotic this year, I ate a red, white and blue cake to prove it).

 Because I finished finals in Berkeley and Kaulin and Brenn drove down to San Diego (that's spanish for something?), I had them drop me off at the Facer's household for a few days of hard-core LDS partying.  And by that I mean we went surfing and played Just Dance on the Wii and watched Harry Potter and went to church on Sunday.

The real treat was Monday: we went to the beach for bout 4 hours, got terribly sun burnt (well I did), came back to the house to find a cornucopia of food ready for Clare's party.  The party began with food and ended with too much cake and Just Dancing, and lots of food. BUT my dearest friends, this is not where the 4th of July/ the birth of Clare Facer celebration ends.  To top it all off, we went back down to the beach around 8, paddled out on long boards and watched the firework show from the water.

Yup, that's us out in the line-up

What better way to honor our great country than to take to the "shining sea"?  

Well yes, this was a successful stopping point in my summer adventures.  Thankfully, this is only one FABULOUS memory that I will keep.  There is many more to come as Kaulin's impending marriage draws closer (sometimes I need to throw in a line that sounds like its from a Jane Austen book, sue me).  

But you know what one of my favorite things to do is now?  Show off funny pictures at the end of my post:

I make them good girls go bad

You know who is superr awesome at microeconomics?
Me neither!
That is because more than anything microeconomics sucks your soul, very dementor-esque, from your body.

Good news: my soul has been fully restored today.  Via disney movie clips on youtube.  I feel whole again.

Finals suck, their supposed to... so no I was not surprised when I started my final this morning and instantly felt like I lost all knowledge I had learned.  It was like a cartoon moment for me, I could see the numbers and letters escaping my brain and coming out of my ears.  In the middle of the test, when I thought I would go insane from the lack of a soul, I look down at my hand and you know what was staring back at me? My bright red nails*.  They made me realize I was a fierce, strong, intelligent woman (with an amazing sense for nail color.)  I pushed forward, knowing my red nails would be there for me when I finished, ready to take on the next challenge.

*But I did keep in mind that if I failed this final, and proved to be a complete idiot, I could also use these red nails to attract a rich, handsome man and then get married and not worry about microeconomics.  I love that I always have that option.

Alas, it remains that my brain is perfectly capable of being intelligent and I will continue on with my male-attracting red nails and then blow them all away with my knowledge of microeconomics.  I will leave you all with a nice little picture of the notes I was allowed to bring in with me to the final.  Its a real piece of art, like Picasso, or someone else who made famous, beautiful art.  Thats not really relevant.

OH and I forgot about this:

Kidney's for sale? Yes, let us study the economic aspects of selling body parts...

An apple a day will keep anyone away if you throw it hard enough

This was my dream last night:

Line for line.  The only difference was that Tom Hanks kept yelling "NOT A BLOODY DRAGON RINGO!" over and over instead of whatever lines he actually had.  

On the subjects of dreams, there is one situation that is currently affecting me everyday and therefore must be addressed.  Brenn.  Kaulin's fiancee, one of my favorite people of all time.  We are sharing a bed this summer before the wedding while I stay in Berkeley.  This woman has a massively insane subconscious apparently.  She sleep talks and its happened a few times where I have a conversation with her while she is asleep.  I, who love to be entertained anytime of the 24 hours of a day, usually smile when she starts yelling nonsense at 1 in the morning.  She warned me before we started cuddling in a queen sized bed that she has had night terrors.  Excuse me for thinking that only people like Kirk on Gilmore Girls had that.  That dude is crazy.  Brenn isn't crazy, so she is just exaggerating.

Except she's not.  On the night before my midterm (thank you fate), I am trying hard to fall asleep early so I can be fully focused in the morning.  Brenn's unconscious mind has other ideas.  I wake up to complete darkness and Brenn, bolting upright, quietly saying "what? what? no, no, no."  I turn over

to look at her, of course knowing that we are in no immediate danger.  She is staring at the corner of the room closest to her  side of the bed and repeating "what? what? what?" in a very calm, serene way.  Her trance like-state actually instantly creeps me out.  I look over to the corner, expecting to see a ghost, or a zombie, or Christian Bale with a knife.  Nope, nothing. (although I would be pretty excited if Christian Bale was there, knife-less of course).

I've surveyed the scene, and just as I reach out to wake Brenn up she cat-like bounds away from the corner, and just about to fall off the bed.  My hero instincts kick in and I grab her arm and she looks up and realizes I'm there.  But this sweetheart is still not in fact awake.  She stares at me and I try to calm her down, "shhh Brenn, shhhh".  What I wanted to say was "Shut UP Brenn, ya freak, I have my midterm tomorrow!"  As Brenn has pointed out before, my excessive tiredness when it's late at night actually cuts away from my rudeness and I'm very sweet.  So I coax her into laying back down, she's no longer fully asleep but she is obviously still delusional.  Whatevs, I love the girl.

Two seconds after laying down she whispers "when did that happen?"  What a cute nut, she is already trying to have a conversation with me about what happened only moments before.

The moral of the story is: I love Brenn Mcwhorter, she is an amusing bed partner.  But I will gladly go back to hearing about her screaming at a spider on a wall that is the size of a cowboy hat, rather than waking up at 2 in the morning to witness it.  Just so you all know how funny my brother's fiancee is.

Because I can('t)

I mean, I have always been a blog person.  In a sense.  But I just didn't do it.  BUUUT now I'm super mature and stuff so I will share my brilliant mind with the world.  Also I am tired of only writing a certain amount on a facebook status when there is so much more going on in my brain.  So sometimes this will make sense, sometimes it won't and sometimes I will wonder if anyone cares.  But mostly not so much the last one since I care and thats all I care about.
Got it?
So countdown to my microeconomics final on thursday.  Yuck.  I don't wanna seem overdramatic but taking this class has been like voluntarily walking into a pole every morning and then telling myself "NEVER AGAIN!" and then walking into the pole again the next day. Everyday.


I made a fun game up though.  Sometimes when my professor starts talking about something we already went over, I pretend he is the teacher on Charlie Brown. "Wah wah woh wah wah". http://soundfxnow.com/sound-fx/charlie-brown-teacher-voice/

There I sit with a silly smile, listening to the words but letting them become a trombone sound.  Pretty entertaining.  Mostly I take this class seriously though. Which is why its even more amusing to say "your mom" jokes quietly to my two brothers when I feel like I just digested too much information.  It's good for the skin.


Hmm, that felt good. I think I'll be pretty good at this stuff.  And by "this stuff" I mean, being awesomely amusing to myself.  Which I think I've always been.  But you didn't know that until now, I'm mostly sure.


Huh, funny I just realized my facebook status works for summing up this post: I have no idea what I’m doing but I know I’m doing it really, really well