10 Ways You Know You Are Back in School

10. You are always tired.

9. You are always hungry.

8. If you remember to eat... you eat this.. 7. You drink a lot of this

6. You regret everything you eat and drink

5. You start talking to yourself out loud - mumblings and some twitching even.

4. You snap at people who by all accounts don't really need to be snapped at(i.e. the Library attendant or grounds maintenance guy), because you don't know "why the hell THEY'RE SO HAPPY!!!"

3. Your eyes tear when you see someone sipping their cooling beverage and enjoying a novel... sniff.. a NOVEL in the park that they CHOOSE to read for entertainment and not for extensive analysis and critical review.

2. You walk slightly hunched even without your backpack on and hiss at people walking by in case they're getting any funny ideas about talking to you while you're trying to STUDY! Dammit! My corner! Find your own hole!

And the number 1 way you know you're back in school...

1. You can fall asleep in any position, on any piece of furniture or slab of carpet, at a moments notice, no matter what time of day, where you are, and who might be sleeping in the library lounge chair next to you.

4 Days in San Diego - Sigh - Let's go ahead and call it "this years" San Diego trip

A belated post about a little vaca I took to San Diego last week. Well, almost last week. My good chum Heidi and myself found some ridiculously "do not pass this up fools!" round trip tickets to San Diego a few weeks ago for $140 round trip respectively (compliments of Southwest). That awesomeness coupled with a free place to stay near La Jolla and a 4-day Labor Day weekend preeeeeetty much solidified that much needed, but "sure feeling it now", vacation. Sold. Done. Purchased. We left last Saturday morning, and returned last Tuesday.

In between there was much beaching, and also some beaching, and we also went to the beach. Those activities were interspursed with eating, and then some more beaching... and a little shopping. Yes. I have just described the ultmate chick vacation and oh my, I love chick vacations. There was only ONE little draw back - turns out Grad school is a lot harder (and MUCH more demanding) than my undergrad. That, and I'm still in the "done at 5, do what I want on the weekends" mentality instead of "oh gee sorry awesome friends and cool ideas, I can't participate in that sweetness because I have frakking homework and reading and an MPA to acquire" mentality. Psh. Stupid transition. Regrets? Me? Well... we'll see when it's all said and done. I would like you to know that I DID read my textbooks on the beach and subsequently submitted an assignment from a Barnes and Noble WiFi connection (of course we hung out in Barnes and Noble on vacation... you act like that's weird) late Monday night. Sigh. Homeworking and not being able to read a novel on the beach were the only "kinks" in the relaxing San Diego Vaca 2009. I add 2009 in the hopes it will start a pattern... an annual pattern. Mmmm, annual patterns. Oh, the other unpleasentness was the $&^%*@ truck driving flooosey girl who pulled many a ridiculous traffic antic that ended in some very unlady-like but completely justified hand (finger) singals from both Heidi and I (on Sunday no less. Gasp! Worse!). Listen all states but Utah; "everyone" knows that Utah is always complain central for driving. Apparently we (cough, Utah county) fail at driving. But I might happily add California on the list after THOSE 4 days of cruising around the 5, the 163, and the 15. It was like a bunch of escaped monkeys were driving cars! Bleachy haired leather skinned truck driving escaped monkeys at that! Grumble...

But lets not talk about San Diego coupled with homeworks and idiot monkey drivers... but rather...

And

Might I just say? Next San Diego trip, I shall spend at Coronado the. entire. time. Seriously. Beach cruised on some beach cruisers (logically) around the island. Picturesque all-American diners complete with the world's greatest oreo shake, and a non-crowded, sandy beach for the basking, romping in the waves, and body surfing.

And naturally...

Speaking of body surfing. I had been doing said activity for about 30 minutes and as any of you body surfers (or attempters) might know, there's much of being tossed about by waves and laying on your stomach on the board. Well... I had a little strapless swim suit that day and though I had secured the "removeable" halter strap as a precaution, one or two beach goers may or may not have gotten a bit of a show from me at one point. Whoopsy! One of the ladies may have slipped a little more than half-way out the top of my suit. Even little mosquito bites are a bit scandelous when exposed. Te he he... blush blush.
So... this might be a good time to post THIS picture... and prove I really am a good "covered" girl! Ima good gurl I am!Alas, though I love my SLC and adore my Utah, I think I could find a place in my soul reserved for San Diego always. Or at least... annuallly. Cheers to San Diego Vaca 2010 and hopefully, a little more discretion when it comes to the homeworking (mumble, stupid, mumble, crappy, %&*#^, grad school...), and the body-surfing swim suit choice. Ahem...

Lila and the Curious Case of the Wall-Poo

I would like you to look at a picture:
Do you see those little brown blotches on the upper corner of my wall? Here, let me zoom.

Do you see now? Do you see those little brown patches and smear of what seems to be... could it be?
YES IT IS! It's poop! Cat! Poop! And HOW - might you be wondering at this moment - did little cat poops happen to find themselves almost 6 feet up my wall? WELL! I've asked myself that EXACT same question over the last few days.

Picture if you will, a lovely evening at home vegging in front of the tube. It's been a time since you just sat for a hour in your apt mulling over what current media has devised to entertain you. I believe I was watching something like, "America's Got Talent" when I started to smell a smell of what my roomie and I have deemed "atomic poo." Lila, bless her furry little heart, once in a great while, produces an atomic poo. This poo is so rancid, so fraught with death and destruction, one wouldn't be surprised to witness tangible green fumes rising out of her litter box to poison all who come within 3 blocks of our apartment building. It's that strong. Happily this does not happen often and I'm not sure what changes that makes her "atomic poo" every couple of months. All I know is she does and oh my, it's the kiss of death.

SO! Back to the wall-poo. I start to smell the atomic smell and begrudgingly get up to scoop the offender from the box and take it directly outside. I get under the sink and grab her designated poop bags, grab the scoop, and walk towards her box. Upon arriving at her box, I notice something glistening on the ground just outside her box on the carpet. Yes. It is a piece of atomic poo. On the carpet. WHAT? Sigh. I figured she must've been a little sicky in the tummy and had an accidental escapee before making it to her box. We can all empathize right? Right? Ahem. So I scoop that and wipe it down with a Clorox wipe first... all the while trying not to breath... at all... for fear of retching at what now is starting to feel like toxic gas wafting into my nostrils. I then turn my attention to the box. And... sift around with the scoop a bit. Huh. Nothing. I had JUST cleaned her box not 2 hours before anyway, so there wasn't any "leftovers" and... no atomic poo. Could that tiny little carpet squirt have been the only culprit? That's a serious smell for one squirt.

As you know... this was not the case. I stand up, glance up (for no reason then to glance) and see those two offending poos happily sitting almost 6 feet up on the wall. My jaw hit the ground in unbelief. Immediatly I start going through every possible scenario in my head. If you look at the pics carefully, you will notice there are no pieces of furniture high enough for her to climb and subsequently butt-squirt. There's nothing she could have done, in this world of gravity and logic, to have put her poo on that wall. Unless of course (theory #1), she began by jumping from the back of our couch located a solid 4 feet away from her box, stopped mid-air, turned about so her furry butt was facing the wall, squirted, THEN (here comes the REALLY weird part) turned back around facing the wall, turned the corner inside the closet frame, did another 180, squirted TWO MORE atomic poos around the CORNER 6 feet up on the wall (true story), and subsequently land strait into her box. Uh-huh. Weird.

So... there's THAT impossible possibility, OR there's this (theory #2). Do you see the "tail-end" of the framed picture seen in the above picture #1. Do you see the latter half of a framed white cat with its tail sticking up? WELL! The wall-cat could've launched that poo nicely onto the wall. Could have! It's got the angle. Yes, I am aware it's a picture, but that would only leave me to accept theory #3.



Theory #3: I have a phantom poo'ing cat living in my apartment. Clearly ghost-cats could float in the air and pretty much do anything a human ghost can do. And if a ghost-cat wanted to poop on the wall (or take REAL poops from a litter box and place them on the wall as ghost-cats would logically have ghost-poo), they totally could! There's more evidence to support my theory of having a ghost-cat. A week prior, I was fluffing in the bathroom and Nik was in her bedroom, and we suddenly hear this CRASH! BREAK! I come out to the main area to see what it was, and a vase had fallen from the top of our bookshelf and landed with amazing accuracy on the bottom edge of the bookshelf, smashing it to pieces. Why is this weird? WELL! As I glanced up the bookshelf to see which book had fallen over and knocked that vase to the ground (aka "the reasonable explanation), no book had fallen. All was in its right place. I know the vase had been pushed towards the "middle" of the shelf and thus well away from the edge (clearly to prevent such a happening). And yet... ahem. We of course chose to ignore this instance, picked up the pieces, and never spoke of it again. Until... the curious case of the Wall-Poo. Given these two happenings, I feel a ghost-cat is the more reasonable explanation than having an embodied poo-flinging super-cat flying around my apartment squirting walls with her butt. Honestly, if you have anything else by way of reasonable suggestions - please - by ALL means. In the meantime, I maintain that we have a phantom-cat living in our apt. Though, I'm still going to choose to ignore these two instances and never speak of it again. If you ignore it, it goes away. Right? Right. Scooped. Wiped. Trashed. Forgotten. So let it be written...

The Happiest Place on Earth – On MY Special Day!

Once upon a time, I heard a wondrous rumor that Disneyland gives you free admission on your Birthday! This was hard for me to believe. I mean, yes there are the usual known “freebies” on your Birthday. Some places give free gobs of ice cream with a spitting sparkler of death, some places sing and clap and dance until you want to throttle whatever schmuck friend you have that TOLD these fools it was your Birthday, and some send you 15% discount coupons good only on your Birthday and only on these two over sized ugly items if they happen to be in stock. All gimmicks used by restaurants and retail stores to try and make you feel special on your special day, when in fact, you can see the disdain shooting like phaser beams from their eyes “So it’s your Birthday. Big deal. Who the *&^%$ cares.” Wow.

Thus, when I heard that Disneyland gives you free admission on your Birthday, I was enamored with the idea. I dared not hope! I dared not DREAM! Could it really be? Could I really get into Disneyland, the happiest place on earth, for FREE on my Birthday! If this proved to be true – it would be the best Birthday freebie any corporation has ever offered anyone with a Birthday ever. EVER I tell you!

Well my friends, the rumors are TRUE! Today I officially registered to enter Disneyland, the HAPPIEST Place on EARTH, on Monday, October 12, 2009 (aka, my 26th Birthday) for FREE!! What better place to feel young again? What better place to celebrate the day you entered this world than in Disneyland???? What birthday party could ever top riding the Indiana Jones Adventure ride, or sailing through Pirates of the Caribbean, OR sitting in your coffin through the Haunted Mansion? (Do you realize that they change the Haunted Mansion to Nightmare before Christmas in October? I KNOW!!!! Win win win and WIN for me). What’s also fairly incredible is that my Birthday lands on Fall Break… so I won’t have to worry about missing class or any such thing to accommodate my dream Disneyland Birthday excursion. I will, however, have to find some great friend to go with me. Any great friends out there who love some Mickey Mouse and Cinderella as much as I do? Eh??? Check your calendars! I need a Disney-buddy to really make this dream a reality. And remember…

When you wish… upon a staaaaaar. Makes no difference… who you aaaaaaare… anything your heart desires…. Will cooooooome. TOOOOOOOOO. YOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUuuuuu….

If you would like to register to go to Disneyland on YOUR Birthday for FREE - go head and click here.

500 Days of Summer - and I had my last this weekend.

I spent a rousing weekend in Moab with my Ward. What what! It was a river rafting trip down the Colorado and boy was it good times. I had some times in the “big raft” and some times in the “rubber kayak”. I brought my camera but not on the river. I’m hoping for some “facebook tags” from others who took pics and then I can post them for your enjoyment. I know how you like to look at pics of a bunch of people you don’t know having a Ward activity. At any rate - all in all – I vote it a great final summer trip. Why final summer? WELL!

I am starting school in a week and a half. I’m starting school AGAIN. I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it yet – though I have bought some textbooks here and there and am starting to adjust my schedule accordingly (aka making Frisbee really count this Wednesday and finishing up me “leisure reading” for the next 6 semesters… sniff sniff). Soon, my free evenings will be inundated with reading texts and writing papers and studying for tests. Honestly, I’m looking forward to being in a classroom again and have hefty goals to really fly through my MPA program as fast, but as effectively, as possible. Fall 2011. That’s my graduation goal. We shall SEE!

I also saw a movie last week I think deserves more than a “sidebar” mention; “500 Days of Summer.” Excellent film! Excellent soundtrack (already downloaded and being enjoyed thank you). This is one I highly recommend if you are tired of gimmicky blockbuster smash-em-ups and cliché romantic hoo-haw. Yes, hoo-haw. There are many things I liked about this film, and only one thing I didn’t.

First, what I liked: the girl and the boy. Both quirky and flawed in their own human ways. Both aren’t your drop dead gorgeous untouchables – but humanistic – realistic – you can put yourself in their shoes or at least – it’s plausible that you could date one of them given whatever sex you happen to be. There’s a chance! It’s funny and tragic. It’s unexpected but not ridiculously so. What do I mean by that? Well, you know how movies try to play the “unexpected” by killing the hero or making the quirky best friend the blood thirsty murderer? Ya know, the ones that just come off stupid and ridiculous rather than genius and was clearly intended for “shock value?” I personally think it’s VERY hard to “kill a hero” and do it well. You’ve got to have purpose in the death of the hero, or the boy and girl not ending up together, or the quirky best friend ripping everyone’s heart out (literally) or it just plain doesn’t work. I can’t say I’ve seen it done well very often. It’s a delicate procedure – a risk in movie-making – but this movie does it and does it realistically. Bravo!

I must also add – this movie hit very very close. Brilliantly and heart-wrenchingly close. Not only do you feel you could interact with either of these characters in a real world scenario – but there story is one of real-world proportions [warning: spoilers to follow…]. Example: one of my favorite moments in the movie is when they create a split screen of Tom (the boy) going to a party Summer (the girl) has invited him to; one side entitled “Reality” and one entitled “Expectation.” At this point in the movie they have loved, broken up, Tom has wasted away in heart-wrenching depression and bitterness, and then they reconnect several months later at a mutual friends wedding. They have a great time – and she invites him to come to this party. So Tom has expectations of how it will go – and in the split screen scenario his expectations are viewed slightly ahead of what reality gives him. And reality is always harsher. It all starts out close to his expectations… and then falters… and fails… and eventually he’s crushed into disappointment and despair again. Reality has killed expectation… again. The reality of the situation is thus: first, we all have had expectations that reality has brutally shattered. We’ve all had that hope that something will follow the plan we want it so badly to follow… and then doesn’t. But even more so, Tom wasn’t unfounded in his expectations. Tom wasn’t being overly zealous or ambitious or “reading into” anything. Tom’s expectations were plausible – like many of our expectations are – but the lesson is – it doesn’t keep them from still being crushed by reality.

Hits so very close…

Many girls I’ve talked to actually identified with Summer – not believing in love and maybe even bringing a few poor wretched souls along with them for the ride until they finally decide to cut them loose. Heart-breakers. Indecision. Immaturity. I, on the other hand, identified with Tom. And I think we could all place ourselves in either of their shoes – neither being the bad guy and neither being the hero – but it all happening just the same. You should go see this movie. Move it up to the top of the list, you know, ahead of GI Joe and The Time Traveler’s Wife. It will be a worthy switch I promise you! I’ve dedicated a POST to it haven’t I? Sheesh! It’s not like these posts are free! Except that they are… cough.

Oh, and what I didn’t like? That the chick at the end Tom asks out when he has finally healed and decides to believe in love again is supermodel gorgeous. Seriously! It didn’t fit with the movie at all. Summer was pretty – but in a quirky real kind of way. This girl snapped me back into “oh yeah this is still a movie” mode and lead me to believe that the casting director had to find a spot for the uppity producers brain dead hot niece who moved to Hollywood to be an aspiring act-ress. Eye roll. Or it was just poorly casted – but at least it was only the last 7 minuets of the movie. It’s good enough to let that one moment of complete Hollywood cliché slide… I suppose…

Khaki Jeans: the dude version of the "cure-all white t-shirt under everything."

Almost a year ago, I had myself a little rant about the “cure all white t-shirt” epidemic infecting LDS women's clothing choices. You know the one I’m talking about; where women to “modest-ify” tube tops and other such clothing items designed to show more skin than the average LDS woman is meant to show, by putting the plain white t-shirt under it. Shudder. Now listen, before you get all sorts of ralled up, I did qualify this observation by noting that yes indeed, it CAN work sometimes but my question was why always the default white? Contrary to common belief, white does not “go” with everything. Mix up the colors once in awhile! If you have a black dress that may call for a little more coverage either 1. Don’t buy it or 2. Get a BLACK t-shirt to supplement the more revealing areas… not the WHITE! Anyway – enough rehashed about that. For full explanation of why LDS women shouldn’t think the white t-shirt cures all “immodestness” of articles of clothing maybe they should just come to terms with they just plain can’t wear, see previous post.

I’d like to talk about the man version of the cure all white T…

Khaki Jeans.

What are Khaki Jeans? Well let me tell YOU! They are in fact, pants made out of “levi” but are not blue jeans, dark washed jeans, or even black jeans, but are a light khaki color of jean. The texture would have you believe they are jeans, yet the color is so atrociously khaki it's basically a sin. A wolf in sheeps clothing. Is it khaki? Or is it a jean? Well, it’s blatantly painful for damn sure! I have seen these jeans, and excuse the bias but this is where I’ve seen the majority of them, on young mens in the Provo area attending the BYU’s. It’s true! And when I’ve seen them in SLC on young mens, they’ve just graduated from BYU and moved to SLC. No really! Finding more young mens who think that wearing khaki jeans is acceptable as business casual (not to mention acceptable to life period) and who did NOT attend and or live in BYU or one of its affiliates is nigh impossible. I promise you that’s where the majority of khaki jean offenders are found. One example: I attended my MPA orientation last week and found the first offenders of the “khaki jean” I’d seen since leaving Provo. 3 of them! 3 of these what would’ve been otherwise decent-looking dudes were wearing khaki jeans. Where had they transferred from? You guessed it! Good heavens. Next it will be socks and sandals! Though, there is many a SLC hippy guilty of that atrocity. Shudder. Anyway… clothing rant for another time.

I tried very hard to google a pair of these khaki disasters to give you a visual. But the irony is, all that came up were chinos, cargo pants, REI sport khaki’s, etc. All acceptable mens bottoms (for the right place and the right time of course), but no khaki jeans. Not even the WORLD will acknowledge their existence. And I, for one, feel that means something very significant.

SO! Now, that you know where they come from - let me tell you why they are offensive. First, they are ugly. Second, they are not business casual and I don’t know why dudes, just because they aren’t BLUE jeans, think they can get away with them being “office wear.” They’re not. Third, they are ugly, and fourth, they aren’t flattering at all. I once hung out with a boy who had one such an offensive pair of jeans. They were baggy, they were jeans, they were khaki, AND they had a hammer loop. Now, this boy was a tall broad boy. But I didn’t know the extent of his broadness because he was sucked up in baggy puffy khaki jeans. What I did with boy was this, batted my eyes, giggled my giggle, and showed him what a strait legged (or boot-cut) cotton chino did for him. Suddenly, boy seemed much broader, taller, and what the? even had a nice boy-butt that had also been done a disservice by that evil piece of faux-business casual wear. I made him destroy them. And I hope he’ll never look back. I believe he won’t.

So, listen guys, buy a pair of chinos. GAP has an array of cotton khaki pants that, praise the lord, are a natural fiber such as cotton or even linen, and reasonably priced. They look like this (and are found under the pants category... not the jeans category. You see? Categories for pants... and categories for jeans):

If you want fabulous khaki’s, try JCrew too. Suffice it to say, they will do amazing things for your overall body structure and your dating life. I promise. I know it may be hard for some of you to tear yourself away from that happy 1990’s pant-accessory – the hammer loop – or the elongated butt pockets – but guys – GUYS – please – I don’t know where you are finding and or purchasing these khaki jeans (or if you can even find them post 1997 – and you should be ashamed if you “proudly” spout “I’ve had these bad boys since High School – dur dur dur”), but end the madness. End it now. For your sake, the sake of your career, the sake of your embarrassed girlfriend, the sake of your dating life, ditch the khaki jeans and enter adult-hood. Chino-hood. Cotton khaki-hood. You won’t ever go back.

What do you do with a shy boy?

As my "dating" life goes - I tend to notice the slightly more outgoing type of mens. Not necessarily the "social butterfly" of the group or "Mr. 300 numbers in my phone" - but dudes that aren't scared to talk to... well... that's it... talk. And even those who are comfortable talking to la ladies. We not so bad is we? So cute and feminine (eye bat). Anyway... I guess what I'm saying is I've dated and/or gone out with dudes who are on the social comfort scale of average to outgoing. Now, this doesn't mean they're "cool." HA! NO! They're dorky - but they're outgoing and it just makes the whole "get to know you" process easier. I can roll with that as I'm fairly outgoing when I want to be. But I can also be quiet if I want to be too. I'd like to think this helps me empathize on some level with shy folks. As the general public is concerned, I'm comfortable and talkative. BUT... but... as 16 year old awkward fuzz-headed smart teenage girl as this is... around dudes that I (giggle) "like" I freeze up a bit. Dunno! It's a crazy mixing of family dynamics. My mom's side of the family is very reserved, very quiet, and soft spoken. This is my "have sighted cute boy" reaction. The other side of my family that I attribute my last name too - Cox's - tend to be - er - not so quiet. In fact, they're down right boisterous and social airplanes, zooming loudly and deliberately into social situations and grabbing anyone close to them to be new friends. There are no reservations, a lot of loud guffaws, mockery, and cherry-topped with a love of big gatherings and big fun. This is my personality in general too... maybe not so much the guffaws. Cough.

SO! Where am I going with this? WELL! I'm first hoping some of ya'll can empathize with the following: dating and not having it work... like ever... like... not functioning. After several attempts at trying to find a normal person without weird relationship issues (read: still following dating patterns of 16 year old boys) who (as sad as this is) is still is attracted to the opposite sex is... well... hard. It shouldn't be that hard - but some of you who are still hanging in the singles scene know exactly what I'm saying. Where are the normal ones??? Well, they are out there cause I've seen them... and the great majority are married. Ha! But I gets to thinking to myself, I believe there be some normal good natured stable mens out there in my preferred age bracket (23-29... very scientifically came to that average age... I'll tell you about it one day) and maybe, just maybe, I'M the one who's not seeing THEM. Yes! Maybe it's ME who needs to change my tactics a bit. Ya know? I mean it's logic Spock! If what you're doing isn't working, and there's a pattern over time that it isn't working, well snap girl! Change it up!

Mmmm... Spock. Glazed eyes... drool drip... longing sigh...

THUS, how am I changing it up? How am I going to create happier hunting grounds? WELL... among such items as spraying good smelling stuff on my body more frequently and learning more about man things like... eating and... burps. I am also changing what I'm hunting FOR. That's right. And it's not as hard as I thought it would be to be honest. Based on previous failures and lets face it, now fears of certain type-o-heartbreaking mens, I can SENSE them. And they all SENSE the same. I'm like Pavlov's dogs. After so many experiences with negative results, I'm learning to set up heart-walls against mens who look like heart-breakers... and a lot of the outgoing dudes now have that auto-yellow flag. My Pavlov reaction. Yup. So now we've come to how I'm changing my hunting style. Instead of hunting for the head lion, I'm looking for the secretary of state; the more reserved and even shy boy who is probably really cool and nice once you take the time and have the patience to get to know him. You feelin what I'm sayin? I think it's genius. Just because he's good-looking AND quiet doesn't mean he's a snobby snob as I would usually believe... but maybe he's just... quiet. That's all.

My only problem is this, I don't know what to DO with the quiet guy. I mean, I've got no experience on how the reserved guy rolls. That seems like a very challenging hunt. As a girl, I don't feel like I should be making any sort of "moves" at all. Oh sure I'll smile and bat and giggle at their jokes. And I'll be available if moves are to be made upon me, but alas, to maintain social norms and not freak the dude out, it's best to let the man do the ultimate hunting. But, again, how does a reserved boy hunt? What are his tactics? There's not a lot of communication bait right? So, how does he roll when he wants to hang with a girl? What are his signs? And what's a girl to do to assuage reserved boy's fears and doubts? Ya'll, I'm willing to broaden the horizons, but I'm stepping outside my territory a bit here. There may or may not be a "subject" for who I'd like to employ my new way of thinking, but am lost as to where to start or what to do. Advice required.