Addi Paddi: Thank you for introducing me to this song. Yeah!
Keep drinking coffee, stare me down across the table
While I look outside
So many things I’d say if only I were able
But I just keep quiet and count the cars that pass by
You’ve got opinions, man
We’re all entitled to ‘em, but I never asked
So let me thank you for your time, and try not to waste anymore of mine
And get out of here fast
I hate to break it to you babe, but I’m not drowning
There’s no one here to save
Who cares if you disagree?
You are not me
Who made you king of anything?
So you dare tell me who to be?
Who died and made you king of anything?
You sound so innocent, all full of good intent
Swear you know best
But you expect me to jump up on board with you
And ride off into your delusional sunset
I’m not the one who’s lost with no direction
But you’ll never see
You’re so busy making maps with my name on them in all caps
You got the talking down, just not the listening
And who cares if you disagree?
You are not me
Who made you king of anything?
So you dare tell me who to be?
Who died and made you king of anything?
All my life I’ve tried to make everybody happy
While I just hurt and hide
Waiting for someone to tell me it’s my turn to decide
Who cares if you disagree?
You are not me
Who made you king of anything?
So you dare tell me who to be?
Who died and made you king of anything?
Who cares if you disagree?
You are not me
Who made you king of anything?
So you dare tell me who to be?
Who died and made you king of anything?
Let me hold your crown, babe.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Jobs...
My job is very far away. I drive 30 minutes to work everyday in the mornings, and it usually takes anywhere from 35-45 in the afternoons to get home. Not a choice favorite. I would have to say that it makes getting 8.50 an hour hardly worth it. I watch my gas gauge go down everyday and think about how many hours of work it will take to replenish that.
And that's why I started looking for a job closer to home. I applied everywhere, and basically I was a full time job hunter. Too bad you don't get paid for full time job hunting! I had several interviews to no avail. I wasn't terribly disappointed, but it was a little disheartening. But the Lord works in mysterious ways, as we are often reminded. I had a certain interview which I believed I totally bombed. I was about 85% positive I would not get hired. My good friend told me that she had connections to the company, and that she would make sure I had a good word put in for me. Apparently she had really good connections, because they hired me five days later.
While I was extremely excited, I was also very sad. I love my job now. I know I complain about certain aspects of it a lot, but what job isn't like that? Truth is, I didn't know how much I actually liked my coworkers until I told my boss I was leaving. He tried to convince me to stay, but I told him why I had to leave. He asked if it paid more, which it did, it was closer, all the things that I needed, and most of all, I knew it was something that Heavenly Father wanted me to do. I didn't try to explain too much because I didn't need to, but when they said they would miss me, I felt the tears welling up in my eyes and I said I would miss them too and then warned them not to go on about it because I was going to cry. Then one of my coworkers blurted out "But I'M going to cry!!" and I said "So am I!!" And then I did.
And this past week has been a bit of a doozy. I didn't realize how much everyone ELSE liked me until I told them I was leaving. One of my coworkers even offered to pay me an extra dollar an hour out of his paycheck if I stayed. I laughed, but I'm pretty sure he was being serious. I have never seen this guy act this serious in his life. "If you quit, I quit, that's how it goes," says he. I told him to move the company to Provo and I would stay. It's true, if they would move it, I would stay! It's just too far with not enough pay to make it worth it. Even saying that makes me want to cry!
So that has made it a pretty tough week. I'm a little terrified to start my other job... I shouldn't be, but I always am scared to start new jobs. I'm always afraid that I won't be good at it, and my bosses won't like me, and maybe I won't have cool coworkers, I will get crappy shifts... you just never know, and I don't like the unknown very much.
But I know it'll work out. This new job was a huge blessing in and of itself. That much I know is true. I do get free meals and a gym pass... I'm looking forward to that :) I'll let you know how the new job goes!
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
BMW Blessings
My Daddy has been looking for a car for me down in California for some time now. I have been looking for one here, with not a whole lot of luck. He would occasionally send me pictures of possibilities... One such picture was of an '88 BMW 5 series. Silver. I fell in love. I swore then and there to pledge my allegiance to BMW's forevermore. Everything about it was beautiful. I spent my time looking for old school BMer's in Utah, California, even Wyoming and Idaho. Well, to make a long story short, my daddy found the most beautiful old school BMer 5 series I had ever seen for a killer price. Not to mention, it's in amazing condition. The one problem was that I was in Utah and it was not.
So my amazing mother devised a wonderful plan. She bought us two one-way tickets to California, where we would spend the weekend, go to church Sunday, sleep Sunday afternoon, and drive through the night. I planned on going to work on Monday morning, and all things would be fine. Sunday came around and I started feeling really sick. Not good. I texted my boss, let him know that I wasn't gonna be in Monday morning, but hopefully would be feeling better to come in during the afternoon. So, I took a two hour nap. I felt better, and thought I would be able to drive home no problem We left around 9 o'clock, mom took the first shirt and I slept for another four hours (on and off). At about 1 I took over driving. I thought I was feeling better than I actually was. I made it until about 4 and I could not drive anymore. Mom offered to take over and drive to the next rest stop and we would just sleep until the morning, and then finish our trip.
10 minutes later:
8 miles out of Parowan. Mile marker 71.
Hazards go on. Car stops. "What...?" I ask.
"I'm not sure... I think it's overheated. Just gonna sit here for a little bit and let it cool off so I can pop the hood and check everything out."
I went back to sleep.
10 minutes later:
"You having problems with your car?" Says the officer, at least at the time I assumed it was at the time when I suddenly thought it was morning when his spotlight hit our car.
Mom explained the situation to him, and when he offered to drive us into town, she politely told him one more time what was going on. We don't need a mechanic, we need this thing to cool down so we can look at it. So then he offered to dispatch someone to come check on us in about 15 minutes. She liked that idea, and then he went on his merry way.
1 hour later:
"Pretty sure it's been more than 15 minutes... how long have I been asleep?"
"'Bout an hour."
She had popped the hood, and couldn't get the radiator cap off. Sometimes I hate it when men deal with cars, because then when women try to fix something, everything is screwed on so gosh darn tight, we have to call men back over to do it anyway.
I offered to give it a go, with no luck.
Mom, being the intelligent one, decided to look in the trunk for something to open the cap with. She FINALLY got it open, and to our lovely surprise, it was cool; not looking very "overheated" like the gauge was telling us. She poured a little water in it, for good measure, and we decided we needed to mosey the 8 miles to Parowan. So hazards went back on, and we went about 40 miles an hour for 8 miles and made it to the gas station in Parowan. 6 o'clock in the morning. I couldn't go back to sleep. By now we were both too keyed up to sleep.
Hours passed, we occasionally checked the gauge, which was constantly in the red. We found this puzzling, seeing as the engine and everything else about the car was obviously not hot either... it was quite ridiculous. But we went with it, because it was my new car, and neither one of us wanted anything serious to happen to it. We called around for mechanics, all of whom were closed and not very friendly anyway. We walked around the gas station (which is about as civilized as Parowan gets) and I discovered the Big Buck Hunt game. This was when I knew we were in trouble. I also knew we were in trouble when the woman parked next to us changed her "clothes" twice in her car, begged for money for "gas", and rolled doobies.
My brother and sister wound up driving all the down to tow us back, but we had the thought that maybe when the previous owner steam cleaned the engine, some part of it got wet and the sensor was just acting up. It didn't make sense to my mom, my dad, or I that the gauge would still be buried in the red when the car had been off for 5 hours. Needless to say we had done a lot of praying.
It was not a good day. I called work to see if a service guy could help me out and maybe troubleshoot the problem with my car and let me know if it would be safe to drive it, but kept getting no answer, only to find out that service had the day off. That should have been a "duh" but... well. We hadn't slept much. And on top of all that I was dealing with some rather ridiculous drama from an individual who found he had stuck his foot so far into his mouth that it had reached his lower intestines. He was having a hard time getting it out, we'll leave it at that.
Gentle readers, I, Makenna Donaldson, was being a snot. I hate being a snot. The worst part of it all was that I KNEW I was being a snot, and I KNEW I needed to stop, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I feel extremely bad about this, because I know it made my mom feel worse, seeing me so... like that. Well, Heavenly Father has a way of teaching us things in ways that are mysteriously wonderful. He knew I needed (and always do need) a lesson in patience. And learning to keep my mouth shut and stop complaining. Around 12.30 p.m. a mechanic came up to my car and asked us if something was wrong and if he could help at all. I pounced. "YES! Something is wrong!" My mom, being much more intelligent than I, was a lot more polite to him than I, the hysterical daughter, as I shoved trail mix into my mouth and grimaced. I had eaten far too much trail mix on this trip. She told him what was going on with the gauge, and after a little looking, thinking, searching, feeling, poking, and talking, he and my parents decided that the sensor had gotten wet and was thus acting up, but my car itself was just fine. In fact, it's in fabulous condition. The sensor is a no-big-deal quick fix. For this I was grateful. Dear readers, at this time, I smiled. I hadn't smiled in hours. My mom proceeded to explain to him that he had really made my day, because I hadn't smile in a while. I'd like to think this made him happy.
Our mechanic (also a tow truck driver) then told us that he had driven all the way up to Parowan from St. George to pick up 1 single car from some fair grounds, and when he arrived they wouldn't even let him take the car because they were starting their races, so he'd driven all the way up for nothing. I quickly yelled out, "That's not true! You came all the way up here to help us!" I was smiling so big I was sure he could see every tooth.
My mom and I talked and decided that we obviously had to be taught. I am pretty sure that lesson was mostly for me, because I was the snot, and have a whole lot more to learn than my mom. Heavenly Father always blesses us, but there's a lot of blessings we just have to wait for. Heavenly Father totally blessed us yesterday, but we definitely had to wait. And that's totally OK!
So my amazing mother devised a wonderful plan. She bought us two one-way tickets to California, where we would spend the weekend, go to church Sunday, sleep Sunday afternoon, and drive through the night. I planned on going to work on Monday morning, and all things would be fine. Sunday came around and I started feeling really sick. Not good. I texted my boss, let him know that I wasn't gonna be in Monday morning, but hopefully would be feeling better to come in during the afternoon. So, I took a two hour nap. I felt better, and thought I would be able to drive home no problem We left around 9 o'clock, mom took the first shirt and I slept for another four hours (on and off). At about 1 I took over driving. I thought I was feeling better than I actually was. I made it until about 4 and I could not drive anymore. Mom offered to take over and drive to the next rest stop and we would just sleep until the morning, and then finish our trip.
10 minutes later:
8 miles out of Parowan. Mile marker 71.
Hazards go on. Car stops. "What...?" I ask.
"I'm not sure... I think it's overheated. Just gonna sit here for a little bit and let it cool off so I can pop the hood and check everything out."
I went back to sleep.
10 minutes later:
"You having problems with your car?" Says the officer, at least at the time I assumed it was at the time when I suddenly thought it was morning when his spotlight hit our car.
Mom explained the situation to him, and when he offered to drive us into town, she politely told him one more time what was going on. We don't need a mechanic, we need this thing to cool down so we can look at it. So then he offered to dispatch someone to come check on us in about 15 minutes. She liked that idea, and then he went on his merry way.
1 hour later:
"Pretty sure it's been more than 15 minutes... how long have I been asleep?"
"'Bout an hour."
She had popped the hood, and couldn't get the radiator cap off. Sometimes I hate it when men deal with cars, because then when women try to fix something, everything is screwed on so gosh darn tight, we have to call men back over to do it anyway.
I offered to give it a go, with no luck.
Mom, being the intelligent one, decided to look in the trunk for something to open the cap with. She FINALLY got it open, and to our lovely surprise, it was cool; not looking very "overheated" like the gauge was telling us. She poured a little water in it, for good measure, and we decided we needed to mosey the 8 miles to Parowan. So hazards went back on, and we went about 40 miles an hour for 8 miles and made it to the gas station in Parowan. 6 o'clock in the morning. I couldn't go back to sleep. By now we were both too keyed up to sleep.
Hours passed, we occasionally checked the gauge, which was constantly in the red. We found this puzzling, seeing as the engine and everything else about the car was obviously not hot either... it was quite ridiculous. But we went with it, because it was my new car, and neither one of us wanted anything serious to happen to it. We called around for mechanics, all of whom were closed and not very friendly anyway. We walked around the gas station (which is about as civilized as Parowan gets) and I discovered the Big Buck Hunt game. This was when I knew we were in trouble. I also knew we were in trouble when the woman parked next to us changed her "clothes" twice in her car, begged for money for "gas", and rolled doobies.
My brother and sister wound up driving all the down to tow us back, but we had the thought that maybe when the previous owner steam cleaned the engine, some part of it got wet and the sensor was just acting up. It didn't make sense to my mom, my dad, or I that the gauge would still be buried in the red when the car had been off for 5 hours. Needless to say we had done a lot of praying.
It was not a good day. I called work to see if a service guy could help me out and maybe troubleshoot the problem with my car and let me know if it would be safe to drive it, but kept getting no answer, only to find out that service had the day off. That should have been a "duh" but... well. We hadn't slept much. And on top of all that I was dealing with some rather ridiculous drama from an individual who found he had stuck his foot so far into his mouth that it had reached his lower intestines. He was having a hard time getting it out, we'll leave it at that.
Gentle readers, I, Makenna Donaldson, was being a snot. I hate being a snot. The worst part of it all was that I KNEW I was being a snot, and I KNEW I needed to stop, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I feel extremely bad about this, because I know it made my mom feel worse, seeing me so... like that. Well, Heavenly Father has a way of teaching us things in ways that are mysteriously wonderful. He knew I needed (and always do need) a lesson in patience. And learning to keep my mouth shut and stop complaining. Around 12.30 p.m. a mechanic came up to my car and asked us if something was wrong and if he could help at all. I pounced. "YES! Something is wrong!" My mom, being much more intelligent than I, was a lot more polite to him than I, the hysterical daughter, as I shoved trail mix into my mouth and grimaced. I had eaten far too much trail mix on this trip. She told him what was going on with the gauge, and after a little looking, thinking, searching, feeling, poking, and talking, he and my parents decided that the sensor had gotten wet and was thus acting up, but my car itself was just fine. In fact, it's in fabulous condition. The sensor is a no-big-deal quick fix. For this I was grateful. Dear readers, at this time, I smiled. I hadn't smiled in hours. My mom proceeded to explain to him that he had really made my day, because I hadn't smile in a while. I'd like to think this made him happy.
Our mechanic (also a tow truck driver) then told us that he had driven all the way up to Parowan from St. George to pick up 1 single car from some fair grounds, and when he arrived they wouldn't even let him take the car because they were starting their races, so he'd driven all the way up for nothing. I quickly yelled out, "That's not true! You came all the way up here to help us!" I was smiling so big I was sure he could see every tooth.
My mom and I talked and decided that we obviously had to be taught. I am pretty sure that lesson was mostly for me, because I was the snot, and have a whole lot more to learn than my mom. Heavenly Father always blesses us, but there's a lot of blessings we just have to wait for. Heavenly Father totally blessed us yesterday, but we definitely had to wait. And that's totally OK!
Monday, September 6, 2010
Oh Parowan, the Land I Call... Desolation
Oh Parowan. Why oh why must I be stranded here? Why hatest thou.me? Why breakest thou my BMer that I love so dearly? I walked into thy sole and lowly station of gas and trinkets and found myself the game of all hick town games "The Buck Hunt" and found myself amused for a moment. Thank you, I feel the need to laugh and add this to my list of things gone wrong in the past three weeks. Congratulations! Ha. Ha ha. Ha ha ha ha ha.
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Friday, September 3, 2010
Always, Sometimes, Never
Thanks to my friend Emily for giving me this blog idea :) Hope I can come up with some good ones.
I ALWAYS
- Wear socks to bed. I just do. I can't sleep without them. Even if it's hot.
- Am "allergic" to something. Yeah, my body likes to keep me guessing on what it doesn't like me to consume.
- Get excited to eat breakfast. Sounds lame, but... I love breakfast. I go to bed EXCITED to eat breakfast.
- Dream. Always. I dream every single night. Text me as soon as I wake up and I'll tell you my dream.
- Count words in conversations... super super weird OCD that I get for liking math I guess. I REALLY try not to do it because it bothers me.
I SOMETIMES
- Will make a big meal just because I want to feel accomplished.
- Like to go on walks with friends just to appreciate God's creations.
- Eat with little kid forks and spoons because I feel bad for them when they don't get used.
- Sing everything, because my life is a musical.
- Watch old movies and Midsomer Murders with my mommy, because... it's just what we do :)
I NEVER
- Pulled an all-nighter. Nor do I really want to.
- Want to get gas. I don't know why, but it just isn't something I enjoy, at all. I will do almost anything to get someone else to do it.
- Lie, for two reasons. First of all, it's wrong... second of all, I am the WORST liar on the planet.
- Get tired of cleaning a kitchen. Favorite chore!
- Get bored of laughing with my family and friends.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
The Book of Mormon is Rated R
FHE. 7:30. Monday Night. Meet in The Crack (official name yet to be decided). Be there, or lose your endorsement. OK, maybe not really. But who doesn't like the idea of decorating cakes? Or eating cakes? I don't like cake. But I like to decorate them.
So 7:30 it was, and after a quick lesson given by a girl doped on Benadryl, we were introduced to our teammates. Team 4 united. Secret handshake and all. We put our heads together. Conversed secretly. Our topic? The Book of Mormon. Depict something from the Book of Mormon on your cake. You will be judged according to creativity, execution, and something else that I don't remember. But that one doesn't matter anyway.
We looked at each other with smirks on our faces, then our eyes darted to our neighboring team and we eyed them with suspicion. They did the same. Unfortunately, we didn't have anywhere to go as our cakes occupied the same table. We eyed our supplies on the supply table. The neighboring team, the 3's, did the same. One of our more daring teammates made a run for the table. As luck would have it, we weren't the first ones with that idea. As we were instructed, we didn't take very much frosting. Unfortunately, other teams are stingy and mean and spiteful, and they took the entire bowl.
I exaggerate. But we didn't even have enough frosting to cover the top of our cake. As you will find out, we didn't need it. I shouldn't complain. Back to the story.
With our supplies of frosting, toothpicks, food coloring, coconut, red hots, and Twizzlers in hand, we threw out ideas.
"Ammon! The Twizzlers could be the bloody arms..."
"We could just cover it in yellow frosting and call it the Celestial Kingdom..."
"3D cake! Make it a 3D cake!"
"I think we should just make it red and say it's blood."
"The Book of Mormon IS rated R..."
"EW! Who had this idea? Boys?? We are NOT making a boy's cake..."
"But uh... I'm a girl and I think that's a good idea..."
"Why can't it be pink?"
"3D cake! Make it a 3D cake!"
"Do the Land of Desolation..."
"Did anything else even happen in the Book of Mormon?"
"I sure hope no one loses their testimony because of this..."
"Just make it bloody. Whatever you do, it has to be bloody."
"The Book of Mormon is rated X..."
"No, the New Testament is rated R... that's sketchy..."
"True... OK, it's just rated R... for all the gore... it needs to be a blood cake."
"This is gross."
And so we settled on a cake called Maher Shalal Hash Baz. That was NFF's idea. Destruction is imminent. So fitting, actually.
We first set out to make the grossest color possible out of the food coloring we were given. Dare I say it... I think we succeeded. It was disgustingly satisfying. My teammate, The Froster (TF) set out to frost our chocolate cake, only to find that it crumbled with every stroke of the spatula. Oh well, more character, right? Destruction. Again, so fitting. Soon, we found that there was most definitely not enough frosting for the entire cake. I turned to get more, only to be disappointed, for the greedy teams had taken all of it!
Fear not! My genius teammate, Dwight, escaped to his apartment and returned with a jar of chunky peanut butter. Our cake was soon filled with peanut butter mountains, covered in coconut bones and red hot guts. Dwight set out making midget licorice corpses, while NFF began making a giant licorice king. Unfortunatley, NFF failed to make the head, so I began to assist him. The head was unfortunately a cyclops, but, as we all know, many people lost their eyes in battles. As NFF and I began making more licorice giants, Tash2 and Best Friend (BF) lamented a bit about the goriness of the cake, while NFF explained to us that Dwight's grandmother was his 1st grade teacher. Dwight's grandmother thought NFF was too violent in 1st grade. NFF liked to draw tanks in 1st grade. Tash2 believed he never grew out of his violence.
After NFF and I had finished our licorice giants, we realized that licorice failed to stand on its own. Andre who towered a good 2 feet above me suggest toothpicks and knives. Dwight told us that Andre thinks on a higher level than all of us. This is truth. I hate to admit this, but there is but one teammate who's identity escapes me. I only remember that none of us knew his name, and this made us all sad. So for now, we shall call him Nameless. And thus he is named.
To make a short story long, after putting Andre's genius idea to good use, our beautifully hideous cake was finished. It was unstable. We feared for its' life. When FHE coordinator informed us that we had to actually transport our creations to the judging table, a small cry escaped from TF and Dwight. NFF put on a brave face and slowly reached toward the cake. Nameless was nowhere to be seen. Tash2 and BF looked over my shoulder with despair. But NFF didn't let us down!
And the judging began. The Judge surveyed our cakes with giggles insisting that every cake was a winner and that she couldn't possibly choose any winners. 8 cakes. 3 prizes. 1 judge.
Each team explained their cake. 2 cakes depicted Ammon. 2 cakes depicted the tree of life. 1 cake depicted Samuel the Lamanite. 1 cake depicted the Title of Liberty. 1 cake depicted something else I can't remember. And... our cake... Maher Shalal Hash Baz. Destruction is IIMMINENT!
We won most creative.
Go team 4.
We were all proud of our cake in the end.
None of us ate it.
So 7:30 it was, and after a quick lesson given by a girl doped on Benadryl, we were introduced to our teammates. Team 4 united. Secret handshake and all. We put our heads together. Conversed secretly. Our topic? The Book of Mormon. Depict something from the Book of Mormon on your cake. You will be judged according to creativity, execution, and something else that I don't remember. But that one doesn't matter anyway.
We looked at each other with smirks on our faces, then our eyes darted to our neighboring team and we eyed them with suspicion. They did the same. Unfortunately, we didn't have anywhere to go as our cakes occupied the same table. We eyed our supplies on the supply table. The neighboring team, the 3's, did the same. One of our more daring teammates made a run for the table. As luck would have it, we weren't the first ones with that idea. As we were instructed, we didn't take very much frosting. Unfortunately, other teams are stingy and mean and spiteful, and they took the entire bowl.
I exaggerate. But we didn't even have enough frosting to cover the top of our cake. As you will find out, we didn't need it. I shouldn't complain. Back to the story.
With our supplies of frosting, toothpicks, food coloring, coconut, red hots, and Twizzlers in hand, we threw out ideas.
"Ammon! The Twizzlers could be the bloody arms..."
"We could just cover it in yellow frosting and call it the Celestial Kingdom..."
"3D cake! Make it a 3D cake!"
"I think we should just make it red and say it's blood."
"The Book of Mormon IS rated R..."
"EW! Who had this idea? Boys?? We are NOT making a boy's cake..."
"But uh... I'm a girl and I think that's a good idea..."
"Why can't it be pink?"
"3D cake! Make it a 3D cake!"
"Do the Land of Desolation..."
"Did anything else even happen in the Book of Mormon?"
"I sure hope no one loses their testimony because of this..."
"Just make it bloody. Whatever you do, it has to be bloody."
"The Book of Mormon is rated X..."
"No, the New Testament is rated R... that's sketchy..."
"True... OK, it's just rated R... for all the gore... it needs to be a blood cake."
"This is gross."
And so we settled on a cake called Maher Shalal Hash Baz. That was NFF's idea. Destruction is imminent. So fitting, actually.
We first set out to make the grossest color possible out of the food coloring we were given. Dare I say it... I think we succeeded. It was disgustingly satisfying. My teammate, The Froster (TF) set out to frost our chocolate cake, only to find that it crumbled with every stroke of the spatula. Oh well, more character, right? Destruction. Again, so fitting. Soon, we found that there was most definitely not enough frosting for the entire cake. I turned to get more, only to be disappointed, for the greedy teams had taken all of it!
Fear not! My genius teammate, Dwight, escaped to his apartment and returned with a jar of chunky peanut butter. Our cake was soon filled with peanut butter mountains, covered in coconut bones and red hot guts. Dwight set out making midget licorice corpses, while NFF began making a giant licorice king. Unfortunatley, NFF failed to make the head, so I began to assist him. The head was unfortunately a cyclops, but, as we all know, many people lost their eyes in battles. As NFF and I began making more licorice giants, Tash2 and Best Friend (BF) lamented a bit about the goriness of the cake, while NFF explained to us that Dwight's grandmother was his 1st grade teacher. Dwight's grandmother thought NFF was too violent in 1st grade. NFF liked to draw tanks in 1st grade. Tash2 believed he never grew out of his violence.
After NFF and I had finished our licorice giants, we realized that licorice failed to stand on its own. Andre who towered a good 2 feet above me suggest toothpicks and knives. Dwight told us that Andre thinks on a higher level than all of us. This is truth. I hate to admit this, but there is but one teammate who's identity escapes me. I only remember that none of us knew his name, and this made us all sad. So for now, we shall call him Nameless. And thus he is named.
To make a short story long, after putting Andre's genius idea to good use, our beautifully hideous cake was finished. It was unstable. We feared for its' life. When FHE coordinator informed us that we had to actually transport our creations to the judging table, a small cry escaped from TF and Dwight. NFF put on a brave face and slowly reached toward the cake. Nameless was nowhere to be seen. Tash2 and BF looked over my shoulder with despair. But NFF didn't let us down!
And the judging began. The Judge surveyed our cakes with giggles insisting that every cake was a winner and that she couldn't possibly choose any winners. 8 cakes. 3 prizes. 1 judge.
Each team explained their cake. 2 cakes depicted Ammon. 2 cakes depicted the tree of life. 1 cake depicted Samuel the Lamanite. 1 cake depicted the Title of Liberty. 1 cake depicted something else I can't remember. And... our cake... Maher Shalal Hash Baz. Destruction is IIMMINENT!
We won most creative.
Go team 4.
We were all proud of our cake in the end.
None of us ate it.
Ground Turkey and Taco Shells Unite!
Oh to be poor. Living on your own. Saving for or paying for school. Paying for over priced (not in my case) apartment living. Cleaning your roommates dishes. Having too many tomatoes than you know what to do with. It's quite beautiful in its' own way, really. It's an even more beautiful thing when your apartment mates are in the same situation! Such was the case last night. My newfound friend (NFF) and I conversed through text message, I lamenting about oatmeal for dinner yet AGAIN, and how it refuses to keep me full for more than 10 minutes, and he lamenting about his box of taco shells, having nothing with which to fill them, thus resulting in intense hunger.
Then, dear readers, a genius idea filled my head. I had frozen ground turkey. He had taco shells. I had cheese. He had a grater. I had a clean apartment. He didn't. Ah ha.
He was skeptical at first. "Ground what?" says NFF.
"Turkey." Says I. "You know... it's like beef, except the bird variety."
He stared at my right earlobe. He blinked. "This is something I'm not familiar with."
And so we cooked. But, alas. The ground turkey was still halfway frozen! I insisted that it would thaw once we started to cook it, but NFF would have none of it. He did have a grand idea. Why don't we jimmy-rig a double boiler and thaw the meat that way? (You see, he actually didn't know what it was called, and it took us a good 3 minutes of charades for me to figure out what kitchen gadget he was referring to.) And so we did. NFF is very skilled with two frying pans, boiling water, and frozen meat.
After the turkey was substantially thawed, NFF handed the sausage-like package to me, and we both grimaced as the partially cooked yet partially frozen meat oozed from its' plastic casing. I felt like washing my hands 17 times, but refrained. While NFF cooked the meat with a wooden spoon (we soon realized how badly my kitchen was in need of stocking), I desperately tried to grate that "paper cheese" as NFF calls it, otherwise known was "white cheese" in my household.
There was also a very sad looking cantaloupe accompanying the meal. And by sad looking I mean lumpy. And my lumpy I mean it looked tumorous. However, that being said, it was probably the tastiest cantaloupe that had graced my tastebuds in a long while. NFF even let me keep some. Such generosity!
And with that we feasted. Cantaloupe and tacos. Including salsa that turned out to be hotter than I anticipated. The meal and the company were equally enjoyable. Post gorging we listened to the "bajillion" of ringtones on NFF's phone. All of which I approve. Except for maybe one, and even then I can't say that I don't approve, because I laughed a lot. This laughing fest made me realize two important things. 1. I am lacking in good ringtones. 2. I am also lacking in good movies.
I have made a vow to fix both of these things.
Then, dear readers, a genius idea filled my head. I had frozen ground turkey. He had taco shells. I had cheese. He had a grater. I had a clean apartment. He didn't. Ah ha.
He was skeptical at first. "Ground what?" says NFF.
"Turkey." Says I. "You know... it's like beef, except the bird variety."
He stared at my right earlobe. He blinked. "This is something I'm not familiar with."
And so we cooked. But, alas. The ground turkey was still halfway frozen! I insisted that it would thaw once we started to cook it, but NFF would have none of it. He did have a grand idea. Why don't we jimmy-rig a double boiler and thaw the meat that way? (You see, he actually didn't know what it was called, and it took us a good 3 minutes of charades for me to figure out what kitchen gadget he was referring to.) And so we did. NFF is very skilled with two frying pans, boiling water, and frozen meat.
After the turkey was substantially thawed, NFF handed the sausage-like package to me, and we both grimaced as the partially cooked yet partially frozen meat oozed from its' plastic casing. I felt like washing my hands 17 times, but refrained. While NFF cooked the meat with a wooden spoon (we soon realized how badly my kitchen was in need of stocking), I desperately tried to grate that "paper cheese" as NFF calls it, otherwise known was "white cheese" in my household.
There was also a very sad looking cantaloupe accompanying the meal. And by sad looking I mean lumpy. And my lumpy I mean it looked tumorous. However, that being said, it was probably the tastiest cantaloupe that had graced my tastebuds in a long while. NFF even let me keep some. Such generosity!
And with that we feasted. Cantaloupe and tacos. Including salsa that turned out to be hotter than I anticipated. The meal and the company were equally enjoyable. Post gorging we listened to the "bajillion" of ringtones on NFF's phone. All of which I approve. Except for maybe one, and even then I can't say that I don't approve, because I laughed a lot. This laughing fest made me realize two important things. 1. I am lacking in good ringtones. 2. I am also lacking in good movies.
I have made a vow to fix both of these things.
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