The ridiculousness of it all

To start with, how do you make ridiculous into a noun? Ridiculousness? Ridiculoustion? Ridiculousocity? I feel like ridiculous is the only real way to describe my situation, yet there is no noun form of the word. Does the fact that I even noticed this make me into a huge English nerd?

The reason I so desperately want a noun form of ridiculous is because I am laid up on a couch with my knee elevated and heavily bandaged and lortab running through my veins. With a surgery 30 hours in my past, the knee is hurting like H***, giving me grief, and forcing me to stay inside on the couch on a beautiful summer day instead of running around outside.

And what exactly is it about the injury that merits a noun form of ridiculous? The knee was operated on due to injuries caused at a slip and slide.

A SLIP AND SLIDE!

In my defense, it was a pretty hard core slip and slide, with over a thousand kids and huge tarps spread out down a mountain. This was no friendly backyard yellow slider. It was business.



But still, I figure anything would have been cooler than getting hurt on a slip and slide. An intense soccer game, maybe. Or sky diving. Or working too hard and carrying too much weight. ANYTHING would have sounded better than the truth. You can imagine how stupid/ridiculous/absurd I feel everytime someone asks me why I'm hobbling around. "Oh, you know, I totally tore three ligaments in my knee from a child's summertime game where you slide around with water. Intense, I know. I'm lucky to be alive... really..."

Yep, I'm an idiot.

Pink

I'm in an awesome limbo stage in my life right now. I have officially graduated from BYU. No longer a student, no longer have to be responsible and study and go to bed early and do my homework. No longer have to follow BYU rules. Lucikly, I have secured myself a teaching job for the fall. But I'm not YET an adult. Not yet a legitimate hard working, society contributing person. So for June, July and a part of August, I'm an inbetweener. Right smack in the middle of stages in my life... meaning I can do whatever the h*** I feel like.

I dyed my hair pink.


(Also, can I get a round of applause for my first ever picture on my four year old blog?)

People react very interestingly when you dye your hair a crazy color. Some of my favorites:

My sister: "That's not permanent, is it?"
Me: "Well nothing in this life is permanent... if you think about it."

My next door neighbor: "It's so cute so cute so cute so cute I want to do it too!!!!!!"

S, the boy I am currently dating: "Whoa. You dyed your hair."
Me: "yes. do i look like a rock star?"
S: "I guess...if that's what you were going for....."

P, from my ward: "Wow. You're hair is so hot that it makes me want to make out with every single strand of it."

A server at the restaurant: "You going to meet your boyfriend's parents with that hair? Oh... yah... they'll love you."

My mom: "WHAT is with your hair? Do you think you're a punk or something?"
Me: "No... I don't think I'm a punk...."
Mom: "You're a returned missionary! You need to cut this stuff out!"

A random person at the restaurant: "Does your hair grow in like that?"

My four year old nephew: "It's weird... I have never EVER ever ever seen anyone with that color of hair before."

The bishop's wife: "Your mom was right- returned missionaries should not dye their hair pink like that."

Bad break-up?

In my blogging experience, I have steered clear of writing anything personal or anything of real significance...my posts are usually a healthy mix of random and completely useless information about myself. Because of my dedication to avoid getting too personal, I have completely avoided ever ever EVER writing about my dating life.

But... just this one time I couldn't resist. The story merits a blog post.

I started going out with this boy from the restaurant where I work. His name is S. Everybody said it was a bad idea to date someone from work. Post-break-up-work-life would certainly be hell. I ignored all warnings and went for it anyway. But the thing is I never really could make up my mind about how much I liked him, and so it was always stop and go, stop and go. Plus, I was in and out of town, graduating (oh yah... forgot to mention huge milestone in my life... I GRADUATED FROM COLLEGE in April. WOOT!), etc, etc. Also there were some other deadbeats who I have been dating who kept trying to make their way in to my life and were making me really confused about my feelings for S. Finally, though, I decided that I do indeed like S and that I was going to give the relationship an honest go. You know... put effort into it, act cute when I see him, be nice to him, the things you are supposed to do when you are dating someone. The next time I saw S, he said he thought it would be a good idea to stop dating. Uh.... okay? His reasons for breakup were #1: I don't like kids very much and that bothers him because he wants to marry a girl who freaking adores every kid who has walked the planet and #2: I am not obedient enough. (Which for the record, I am an "obedient" person, just in a different way than S, who is very down-the-line-perfect-mormon-boy).

Now here's the good part. I thought the restaurant would certainly be a disaster now that S+Bonnie = Love is no longer a true equation. False. Work is so much better than it ever has been. I think he feels guilty about breaking my heart because he has been beyond nice to me. First shift working with S post-breakup: All night long he ran all my food to my tables. When I came back with a tray full of dirty plates and set it hastily on the counter, I caught him sneakily taking it back to the dishroom and unloading it for me. One particularly crappy night he noticed I was in a bad mood and gave me a package of nibs licorice. Then, when he had a wrongly cooked premium steak at one of his tables he told no one but me and we went back to the breakroom and polished that sucker off just the two of us. When I showed up late for work he covered for me. He does my sidework if I am behind. He always gives me the best section in the restaurant.

As you can see, this has really been working out for me. My new work strategy: date every boy at the restaurant, make him break up with me, make him feel bad for breaking up with me, and live the most posh work lifestyle ever. They do everything. I do nothing. I win.

My harshest critics

Two weeks ago I finished up my student teaching and bid adieu to the 15, 16, and 17 year olds who have been rocking my world the past three months. Strangely, it was harder than I thought to say goodbye to 200 high school punks. Before I left, all students had to fill out an evaluation. Although some of the comments the students put I really did take seriously, most of them were just absolutely hilarious. Here are some of the highlights, taken word for word, followed by my own commentary, italicized and in parenthesis:

Things you liked most about this teacher:
“She doesn’t make us think super deep about stuff that can’t be deep.” (HAHA! Is this a compliment or does it reflect poorly on my teaching meaning I didn’t make them stretch?)
“I love that she talks really loud.” (First time anybody has ever liked that about me)
“Pretty much everything has gone well except for the reading because I hate it more than anything.”
“She’s not just a boring fun-hating teacher.”
“We learned a lot, not only about English, but about Bonnie’s life. Like the fact that her names is Bonnie and she works at Sizzler and she’s a good prankster.” (Once those rugrats figured out my name they tried to use it as much as possible)
“Probably the most fun I’ve ever had” (EVER? Oh geez, I hope not.)
“The way she drinks her water.” (Yah, some of the things they said are just plain creepy.)
“She is always so happy and always has the cutest clothes!” (Man, these kids really know what counts, don’t they?)
“I loved the whole year! PARTY AT SIZZLER!” (
“This teacher is attractive.” (…that’s all they said….oh, ninth graders.)
“I like that it was cool. I mean it wasn’t boring. She kept it cool because when I get bored I just lose focus. But it was cool.” (Wow… so profound)
“She’s friggin hilarious.”
“She is nice… brownie points for her, I always like kind teachers.”
“Ms. Blackbird gives everyone a chance to speak in class.” (HA! Ms. Blackbird… oh so much that I said that didn’t enter into their heads.)
“She laughs at our jokes.”
“She’s got attitude and she knows how to handle talkers.”
“Finally, a student teacher who doesn’t have a problem with telling students to shut up! I really love this class (when she’s in a good mood, haha :))”

Things you would like to see this teacher do differently:
“Make specific homework assignments. We need exact numbers of things, not just “I don’t know.” (Oops. Stupid kids always wanted to know EXACTLY how many paragraphs exactly how many sentences to write. Just write you idiots.)
“Sometimes she wore squeaky shoes.” (They really couldn’t get over the fact that I have a pair of squeaky shoes)
“I would have liked her to not have assigned homework.”
“Nufin. She ballin. Nuff said.” (HAHA! And I call my student teaching experience in ENGLISH a success?)
“Well she smells like a horse. Her shoes squeak but… APRIL FOOLS! She’s cool. Even though Aquafina is better than Arrowhead and she drinks arrowhead and she’d be cooler if she’d accept our friend requests on facebook.” (I had them write the evaluations on April Fools… looking back it was not my best idea.)
“Don’t wear squeaky shoes… and I like your hair.” (Umm… Thank you?)
“She says like way too much. Reminds me of a teenage girl.”
“She could have made a fun spelling unit.”
“When kids goofed off, it was, I think, like, a little hard for Ms. Blackburn to stay in control.” (First, notice the excessive units of commas. Secondly, I love the way the student phrased it… hard for me to stay in control. Can’t you just picture me freaking out and throwing my high heels at the students?)
1. “Do 50 pullups in succession
2. Work me in call of Duty
3. Paint the Mona Lisa
4. Give me more extra credit” (I knew exactly what student wrote this evaluation… he was always begging for extra credit.)
“Less stupid books and no essays.” (YES SIR! No more reading and no more writing in an English class. Your wish is my command)

Man, I'm going to miss them.

No purchase necessary.

About a month ago, McDonald's made what I viewed as a terrible mistake. They printed a coupon in the BYU newspaper, "The Daily Universe." One free smoothie. No purchase necessary. No. Purchase. Necessary.

My little sister called to inform me of the good news and suggested that we meet up at... Hmmm... Lets say McDonalds... later on in the day. I agreed. My sis kifed dozens of newspapers from that day so we could have an endless supply of free smoothies. I let my roommate know, who was still on campus, and she loaded up as well on the newspapers. Between the three of us, we probably had 50 smoothie coupons. Yes. We win.

Now here's the deal... McDonalds was making a huge mistake. Stupid fast food restuarant. They don't know jack crap about marketing. You can't print a coupon with NO PURCHASE NECESSARY and expect to make any money. What idiots. BYU students, especially me and my smart little friends, were going to give them a run for their money, use and abuse the system, and make McDonalds regret ever having printed that dumb coupon. Every day. Free smoothie. And after the coupons run out, if you think we're going to pay full price for one of those little smoothies, you've got another thing coming for you, McDonald's. We aren't. We won't. Ever. Pay full price.

So we met up at McDonalds later that day as planned. And here's the deal. Even though I didn't HAVE to buy anything to use the coupon, once inside the restaurant I really really wanted French fries. And I figured since I wasn't paying for the smoothie, paying for French fries wasn't going to hurt me, right?

Three weeks ago, my sister wanted to hang out. And of all the places to get together, where do you think we chose? McDonalds, of course, to use the free coupons. Only she was hungry for real food. So she bought a burger and a wrap.

Last week I convinced a group of four or five to go to get free smoothies, my treat with the surplus of coupons I have. Well, they were out of smoothies. But we were all in the mood now for something delicious. So we all bought ice cream cones.

Three days ago me and my friend rolled into Mickey D's for some smoothies. I discovered I didn't have the coupons with me. So we couldn't get smoothies. Only we were now already craving something. And we were already at McDonalds. So even though its not my favorite place to eat, we were already there...so we might as well get something to eat, right? And we blew money on food from McDonalds.

And that's when I came to the realization. McDonalds got the best of me. I did not take advantage of them, i did not use and abuse, I did not rape, pillage, and destroy the system like I had planned. No. McDonalds had used and abused ME!!! Not once did I plan on spending money at that freaking restaurant. Not once did I ever really even want to eat McDonalds food. But I did. Every time. Even with that stupid "No purchase necessary" printed so clearly to see on every coupon.

Fine, McDonald's. You win. You always do.

Boys, Boys, Boys!

My oldest sister, Becky, has four boys under the age of 12. My oldest brother, Phil, has two boys under the age of 6. Somehow this week I got the pleasure of seeing all six of my little nephews within a three day period.

Saturday I went home to Price. Phil was telling me about a conversation with his six year old, Sam. It was Phil's birthday. Sam, a week earlier had asked him,
"Dad... is it your birthday next week?" Phil replied, "Yes, It is." Sam, nearly unable to contain his enthusiasm explained, "Well! Looks like we're going to have to make a trip to the dollar store this week!" Sam was listening as Phil told me the story and chimed in, "Which we did!" HA! And when Phil opened the socks that Sam had thoughtfully given him, there was no question in our mind as to exaclty how much they cost.

Sunday was dinner at Becky's in Provo. Ben spent half the meal trying to convince me that he is actually 14, not 11. When the kids got too rowdy, Becky said, "Go do laps!" and just like that, all four high energy boys were bounding out of the house running "laps" around the neighborhood. Becky's response, "I don't know why I didn't think of this earlier." While the boys were running, we ate brownies and finished off the ice cream- hiding the empty container before the boys could come in and discover that the brownies were supposed to have ice cream with them.

Monday my mom was in Provo and offered to take Becky's boys, along with Sam, to In-n-out. Mary and I joined in. The dinner conversation included mostly talk about how Davy won't share a hamburger, drink, or milkshake with me because I have germs. Ben and Davy spent considerable time under the table. I didn't ask what they were up to. Eli drank an entire strawberry milkshake by himself. Ben got mad. Eli laughed. Davy complained about not having milkshake, but wouldn't drink any of the shakes there because of germs. Finally, I remembered the suggestion Becky had given them yesterday. "Go run laps." And the kids were off. I sat in peace with mom and Mary, only interrupted every thirty seconds as we watched the boys run past in the window. I wonder what the people at In-n-out thought... all those boys just running circles around the joint. A little girl at the table next to us: "Mom, can I go run outside?" The mom's answer: "No."

I love boys, but why so much endless energy? Why the hyperactivity, the hitting, the pushing, the shoving, the yelling? Can't they just sit down and keep to themsleves for a minute?

Conclusion: I'm not ready to have kids. And if I do have kids, I absolutely can not have boys. It's kind of like when I wanted to go on a mission, but I told God I absolutely could not go to Russia. And He didn't send me there. I am hoping that when I do want my own little bundles of joy we reach a similar kind of agreement with me not having boys.

Kicking it with 17 year olds.

I gave up life at BYU and headed back to high school. I guess BYU was just a little too prude/not interesting for me. For the past six weeks I have been spending all day every day teaching ninth and eleventh graders. Probably one of the most out of control things I have ever done with my life. Here's some of the funnier things that have come out of their mouths:

When asked to make a list of everything that came to their mind when thinking about the word white, one particularly rambunctious 17 year old shared his list: “Clouds, pure, temple, vanilla ice cream, Joe’s thighs (Joe’s his best friend who is in the class), cottage cheese, vanilla ice cream and cottage cheese mixed…”

A ninth grader: “What was Shakespeare’s last name?”

Me teaching Romeo and Juliet: “You guys have to understand how bleak this looks for Juliet. She just found out that she’s in love with her sworn enemy and there is no possible way for this to work out.” A tough kid from the back in an unintentional outburst of complete seriousness: “Awwwww, SUCK!”

Me checking students’ work: “Austin did you do your double entry journal?”
Austin: “I didn’t. I was really busy, okay? I had two dates in one day...Then I had to take a nap...”

A student's essay explaining why one character in a book was having an affair: "He'll just take whatever he can get, as long as he is getting boinked."

A girl explaining to me why she couldn’t type her essay on the computer at school: “I just don’t know how to use these big, old computers. I have a mac at home and it’s all I know. I just can't understand this old stuff.”

In a sentence requiring students to use their vocab words to describe people they know: “Laman and Lemuel were really quite insolent toward Nephi in the wilderness.”

When teaching the Great Gatsby and discussing Tom and Daisy’s marital problems: “Yah, he just needs to backhand her.”

An 80 pound ninth grader came up to me explaining to me why it takes him so long to write: “I had to learn to rewrite completely.”
Me: “Why?”
80pounder: “Because my knuckle got pushed back into my hand.”
Me: “How did you that happen?”
80pounder: “I punched it back there…”
Me: “How?”
80pounder: “With a wall.”
Me: “Uh… okay. Well I’m glad you’re learning to rewrite.”

This overweight Mexican ninth grader sent me an email about his essay. His email is sexybubba0225. I couldn’t help but laugh. My cooperating teacher came in today and was telling the students who was still missing their essay: “Luckily we got the essay from sexybubba guys, so no reason to fear. Wow, what a relief, I was really worried we wouldn't get to hear from sexybubba."

The bad thing is now I have to be a little bit careful what I do, even outside of class. A girl came up to me a few days ago:
Girl: "Ms. Blackburn, I saw you driving today."
Me: "Wow. How crazy."
Girl: "I saw you stopped at a red light."
Me: "Really?"
Girl: "I saw you run the red light, Ms. Blackburn."
Me: "Oh...."

I hate Korea

Monday, Monday

I love Mondays because......

1. Easy crossword. Rock my world. I always finish the Monday crossword. BY MYSELF!
2. I have my volleyball class. And I love volleyball.

That's about it as for good things about Mondays...
Now I guess we just once again start the process of waiting for the weekend.

In other news, I got a parking ticket. I'm sure many of you will be satisfied to know I finally got what was coming to me. It happened on Friday- November 13. I am still amazed as to how I went two and a half months without getting a ticket. If you are wondering if I am currently parked in faculty parking... I am. I'm going to keep taking the risk, even though they pegged me once. I think they only ticket on Fridays. I'll keep you updated. Since I know it's a huge concern to you and all.

epic

Have you ever noticed how a lot of times people will just start saying a word that has been around for years but not used that often? And then people are suddenly going nuts and inserting that word in every sentence possible? It happened with the word random. Nobody ever used that word and then one day people would use it for everything- even when the word didn't apply: "I just got a random phone call from my mom" Uh... why was that random? She calls you every day.

Anyway, the most recent trend in words is.... Epic. It makes me crazy. Everytime I hear the word/read the word/think about the word it makes me want to put a gun to my head. I just don't understand why all of a sudden the entire world is using this word to describe EVERYTHING. The definition of epic is "very imposing or impressive, surpassing the ordinary or of heroic proportions". So wouldn't this mean that the more people use this word, the less significance the word actually has? Because if it means that it surpasses the ordinary... and we begin to use it for quite ordinary things, well then it's not epic at all.

I can't figure out exactly when this trend started. For the last nine months I've been blaming any new trend or anything at all that has happened in the media or in our culture on our mission. So obviously when everyone started using epic, I tried to say "wow, I must have been on my mission when the whole country started using epic like it was their job" But then I realized that the first six months that I was home from my mission nobody was using that dang word at all... so it must be a more recent affair...

I'll cite to you some examples:
In a review on Adam Lambert's new music video: the just-premiered video is an epic and explosive affair.
In the same review: I can only imagine how epic it will seem when it runs in multiplexes before Michael Jackson's This Is It...
(really guys, really? You're going to use this "impressive and grandiose" word twice in the same review?
A girl commenting on that video: it's not epic, it's biblical.
(Uh, you're retarded. Don't compare Adam Lambert to the bible. Ever.)
An invite on my facebook page: EPIC BONFIRE.
(Wow, that 21 year old boy off his mish must have just figured out what epic means and now he thinks he can use it to describe the dinky fire he and his friends are going to have in the back of his apartment complex?)
An article in the Daily Universal: the new agenda should be pretty epic.
(PRETTY EPIC? PRETTY EPIC? Isn't that an oxymoron? Don't use as strong an adjective as epic with a word that is meant to subtract the significance of the adjective)
My friend last night on the couch: We should do a road trip. That would be epic.
(Yes, it might be fun, but if you say epic one time during that road trip I'm going to run you over and leave you to die on the side of the road)

My advice to anyone who finds themselves using this word: It's okay to use it, just sparingly. Epic cannot describe every event in the world. Just because you just found out what the word means doesn't mean you can use it more than once a minute.

My Dirty Little Secret

I live too far away from campus to walk. Bus passes are $120 and that's too much money to pay for just one semester. And it's pretty much a universally known fact that parking on campus is insane so how do I manage to get to school every day? No, not hitchiking- my days at BYU Hawaii are long past.

I park in faculty parking.

No one has noticed.

I've been parking there for over a month.

No tickets.

It started back the first week of school. I was late for class and looking desperately for a spot in the undergraduate parking. No spots. Anywhere. Class was starting. I was frustrated and late and didn't want to look anymore. So I zipped on up to "A" lot, parked my car in a spot where I knew I wasn't supposed to, and mentally accepted the fact that I would have a $30 parking ticket that would someday have to be paid if I want a diploma. Imagine my surprise when eight hours later, there was no ticket on the car. I thought it odd, even creepy... but decided to just try parking there the next day and continue to push my luck.

And the luck keeps on pushing. Some 30+ days later, still no ticket. I don't even look for a ticket anymore when I go out to my car. I've just accepted the fact that A) My car somehow has faculty registration so when the police parking dudes come around my car scans in as faculty or B) No one checks that lot (which is ridiculous because BYU are such Nazis about fining anyone who parks inappropriately) or C) The BYU parking dude recognizes my car on me and has a crush on me so is cutting me a break or D) I actually get a ticket every day, but someone who hates me takes that ticket so that I don't realize I'm being fined and keep parking there. Maybe by the end of the semester I will have 75 $30 parking tickets. Yikes. Over $2000. That's as much as tuition. Just to park.

Whatever the reason, I continue to live it up. I can come and go to campus whenever I please. I run home for a quick lunch or to grab something that I forgot. I go to lunch with friends and then two hours later that beloved faculty parking spot is still wide open for me. No more having to stay on campus for eight+ hours because I have a good spot and if I leave in the middle of the day someone else will get the parking spot. The doors it has opened are endless.

Toe crisis

I feel like I should have a welcome back party for myself. Of course, I think that every time I post on my blog. I enjoy doing it, and yet somehow it is hard for me to be consistent.

For some reason I never feel like posting about anything significant. So I've decided all just continue positing about the minuscule and unimportant happenings in my life. Can your toes keep growing? Today I looked down at my foot. I was sitting in a rather boring class and the subject material had long ceased to hold my attention. I wiggled my toes around, looked at the sore on the top of my right foot and scratched my heel. Then I noticed. My second toe is longer than my big toe! I know this isn't that unusual; tons of people have longer second toes. But here's the thing, I have always prided myself in the fact that my toes are perfect. Each toe is the appropriate length. Each progressively shorter than the one before. So one day I distractedly look down and notice that my second toe has grown longer than my big toe? How does that happen to someone?!?

In other news I'm still mad about a parking ticket I got over a week ago. It was for parking in handicapped parking in Wal-mart. I'm not handicapped. They figured it out. One hundred dollars.

Reasons BYU hates me

Yah, it's true. BYU totally hates me.

BYU hates me because I never return my library books on time. Like ever. It's just annoying to have to remember to bring them back by a certain date... especially when I am not done reading the book by that date. I don't have much of an excuse because you can recheck them out on line... but the catch is if you miss the date, they won't let you recheck the book out online. And once the book is overdue, you might as well just make it really overdue and hand it in whenever the heck is convenient for you. I realized that BYU hates me when the librarian chick rolled her eyes at me and told me I had a $16.00 fine. "Well, can't you waive it?" I asked her. I know they can. They're supposed to. I used to have a BYU librarian friend and she told me they pretty much have to waive the fine. "No, we really can't..." "Well, I know you can because they always do. If you don't want to waive it, you don't have to but I'll just come tomorrow and ask the guy working tomorrow to waive it." "Uh, yah... I guess I could waive it but it's a pretty big fine. Why didn't you just bring it back on time?" "I forgot. I'm in the thick of finals. I couldn't get around to it. Can you just waive it?" And so she waived it and hated me. I can hear the conversation in her head, "Dumb girl thinks she's above the BYU library rules and I am only encouraging her by waiving this fine, but what can I do?"

They hate me because I don't buy their text books from the BYU bookstore. What books I absolutely have to buy, I buy online. As much as possible I just don't do the readings for my classes. When I have to do the reading, I go to the bookstore and just read the textbook there. They usually tell me to stop after a few minutes. So I take the book downstairs where they don't care and read it there. When I'm done reading, I return the book. And the bookstore makes no money.

They hate me because I've been here for four years and I only pay half my tuition. I'm sure they would love to figure out a way to not pay me to be here each semester, but a good GPA is hard to argue with, so as much as they hate it, they have to pay me.

They hate me because I left to go to BYU Hawaii for a semester and then demanded I be let in, and be let back into my major. Then I left to Argentina for a year and a half, and I demanded to be let back in, and to be let back into my major. And as much as they would have liked to have denied me, they couldn't. It's rules. They have to follow them.

They hate me because I sleep on their couches shamelessly, I use their computers on campus, and I get mad at them if their computers don't correctly save my homework. I wear pajamas to classes, (come on, who gets dressed for eight o'clock classes?) and I haven't once joined one of their clubs. I don't vote for BYUSA president and I don't support anyone or anything on campus.

Lucky for them, they're getting rid of me in a year.

Tell them what they want to hear

I've become pretty good at telling people exactly what they want to hear. Take M for example. He is my general manager at the restaurant. I used to hate his guts. Now I just tell him exactly what he wants to hear and we get along swimmingly.

Example: Last night a corny couple came into the restaurant. I was supposed to be off the floor- the night was almost over. Well, these two bimbos wandered over into my section and so I had to serve them. The lady was nice as all get out. She kept smiling and telling me how beautiful I was. Obviously, I immediately liked her- she was telling me what I wanted to hear. So I told her what she wanted to hear... how great it is to have them in the restuarant, how sweet they are, how I wish they would come back soon.

Next, the corny couple went on and on about how this resturant is so much better than other restuarants they have been to of the same chain. Whatever, they are all the same, but if these peeps want to think one resturant is better than the exact same restaurant in a different city, don't argue with them. Just let them think what they want. Anyway, I gave the credit of our "off the hook restaurant" to M. "He drives a tight ship," I confided in them, as if it were some great secret (I was practically speaking in a whisper). "He doesn't take any slack from anyone. If the shrimp are in the oil 20 seconds too long or 20 seconds too little, he throws all the shrimp away and the cook gets the ax. He demands perfection." And you know... I went on. Shooting the bull. Talking about how great M is even though I secretly kind of hate him. He's a moron, after all. I told him once, but he didn't like that very much. All morons hate it when you call them morons.

Well, what do you know, M happened to be walking by at that exact time and I called him over, "M! This couple is dying to meet you! They want to know why this restaurant is the best they've ever been to. I told them it's thanks to you. You keep us all in line." M hates me, but I think in that instant he almost loved me. He was beaming from here to the moon. And so he started talking to the corny couple. And I escaped so I could go do my sidework and get the heck home.

Results of my telling people what they want to hear instead of the truth: the couple left a healthy tip. When I tipped out to M that night he thanked me for being a great server and said he looked forward to seeing me tomorrow night. Right. Apparently you just tell him what he wants to hear- you know- "M drives a tight ship!" and life gets a whole lot easier.

It's official

This blog is now three years old. I guess I am making it official now. by making it official I have told somebody that I have it. before noboyd knew. it was like a secret blog. Secret and pointless. Actually, that's not true, my friend H knew about it. She was the only one who ever commented on anything. Now I have officially told my other friend, Ak. After coming back from my excursion in Argy I figure dout pretty dang quick that a lot of people have blogs. So I wanted one. But I already have one. So i guess now it's time to make this blog active. As in I actively post and follow other people's blogs, you know the whole blog deal.

But is it okay if I do this? My roommate C told me I can't do it. She says blogs are only for married people and that single people with blogs are weird. Well, I've always known I am weird, so I guess it's nothing new there.

I feel like I should have some kind of blog party to celebrate this. You know when gay people come out of the closet? Like they've been gay for years, but they finally come out with it and everything? I feel that way about this blog. i've been blogging for awhile, but I am finally coming out with it. now everybody is going to read it and probably discover that I actually have nothing interesting to say at all. I've seen some blogs with pics on them. i can't even imagine how to do that. I'm just going to stick with the simple blogs. Technology is really too advanced for me these days.

Apples in the library

What do you think the library people would do if they knew that right now, at this very moment, at 4:40 in the afternoon on Tuesday, January 20, 2009, I was eating an apple? You know that eating is very strictly prohibited in the library. They might even kick me out of the library. but do you know what? the girl sitting next to me is eating lettuce and frosted flakes. i think that's about the weirdest combination I have ever seen, but she is korean, so maybe in korean they just eat what they feel like. I wonder if she knows the rule about no food in the library. I'm sure she does. but if she doesn't I sure as heck wasn't a very good example to her because I just finished eating my apple.

But who even made that rule? Who is the person that owns this library that made the rule that I can't eat in here? Whose rule is it? that rule doesn't even belong to a person, it belongs to the insitution. It belongs to the man. And then when the nineteen year old student who is getting paid 7 dollars an hour to work for the library tells me to put the apple away, I respond, "Says who?"
"Says the library."
"Not says what, says WHO."
"The people from the library."
"yah, but who made that rule? The person who made that rule is long dead so is his rule still in effect even though he no longer exists? Does the rule have a longer life than the person who made it? Because it seems to me that all rules die with the person who made them"

That's what I would say, anyway, if the nineteen year old chick came to get mad at me for eating an apple. Turns out no one even noticed.

Water temperature

I went on sabbatical. I dont even know if I spelled that right, but I guess on an informal blog nobody in the world cares. I don't even know if anybody in the world will read this. I went to Argentina for 18 months. That is a long time. That is long enough to have 2 babies. But I didn't. I'm still baby-less. And I think I will be for several more years... mostly because my best friend came over last night and told me all about childbirth and how much her body hurts now that she gave birth four weeks ago. So I'm pretty happy with childless Bon.

The sabbatical was nice but now I dont fit into where I once belonged. And there are a lot of things I dont understand. For example, why is the water always exactly the temperature that I want? I can turn the knob exxactly to the temp that would be perfect for me. In the shower, in the sink, even when I am washing dishes. That is bizarre to me. In Argentina it just came out one temperature, and the temperature of the water depended on the temperature outside. If its hot outside, the water's hot. If it's cold outside, the water's cold. Simple enough. I wonder how they do it with the knob so that it comes out just like I want it.

Some things change and some things never do. I noticed there are still a lot of BYU prudes on BYU campus and I kind of want to stick it to them, but then I decide I dont want to because they are probably insecure and unhappy and nervous so then I just feel bad and decide to be nice. I dont knwo if I am as witty or clever as a writer as I once was. Well, as well as I thought I was, anyway. Who knows if I am really as great as I think I am. There is a tall white guy in a suit down here in this computer lab and I wonder why he's all dressed up. I also wonder why he's white. Everyone here is white. That's weird too. Where I came from I was the only white person and now I am just one of many many many in a group of endless white people.

procrastination

I always blog when I am supposed to be working on papers. I am so over papers. They bug me. It's nice that I never have to take tests, instead I just write massive papers, but I am still tired of it. I love reading and I love writing, but I don't really like the writing I have to do for my classes. Critical analysis is boring. Blah. I'd rather write on my blog all day than analyze short stories or mark twain or bret harte. seriously. that stuff is boring!

I've turned into a hopeless procrastinator. I used to not be quite so bad, but this semester it has turned ridiculous. Re-dunk-ulous as my friend Ben would say. I wonder what happened to Ben? He's probably still procrastinating his homework at BYU Hawaii. He was going to go on a mission but he's probably procrastinated his papers for that.

I wonder what would happen if someone procrastinated their whole life. I think I'm about to find out.

TMI

TMI means too much information. My dad says it all the time. And I like it. Because I think it says perfectly in so little words (or letters?) what I am always thinking. I'm supposed to be writing a paper right now. I am about three quarters of the way done. It needs some serious help, but I think in the 45 minutes that I have left to work on it, I will be able to get it at least to a B paper, which is honestly all I care about. I love Bs. Bs are the new As.

Anyway, it is important that I work on this paper but it is so hard because the people in this computer lab on BYU campus are spilling TMI! All around me people are talking and I just can't help but listen. About thirty minutes ago this crazy frazzled girl came in, say at the computer next to me, and made about a dozen phone calls to people about a wedding she is planning. I don't care where he reception is going to be. I don't care what her dress is going to look like. I don't care how stressed and busy she is and she can't sleep at night. I care about finishing this paper on time! TMI. Don't have private conversations in a public computer lab.

As we speak there are two people to the left of me. They are analyzing her life. I think the guy is her brother but it could be a boyfriend, but whoever he is, he is very kind to her and very concerned for her happiness. He keeps saying that she causes her problems herself and that she wants the drama and she wants the unhappiness that she is bringing upon herself. She agrees that maybe she is not as comfortable with herself as she should be, that maybe... oh this is great. He just said, "You are fighting it. You need to stop... you just... you know... you fight it." and she said "I can't help it" and he just said, "Every time we do something with guys you try to stop it, you try to fight it. You wouldn't do that with someone else, so why would you do it to me?" and then she said, "I don't know Aaron, I am being stupid. I am sorry, okay." I don't think she is really sorry do you?

I'm sorry that her useless bantering and her TMI is causing me to not write my paper!

Mele Kalikimaka is the thing to say...

..on a bright Hawaiian Christmas Day.

So I guess I miss Hawaii. Weird because when I was in Hawaii I missed home and now I'm home and I miss Hawaii. I hate that.

But I got an awesome Christmas present this year. Do you want to know what it was? Three As and Two A-s. a 3.87 to round off the semester. Pretty freaking cool.

I also got a harmonica. It was almost as sweet.