Ouch, that hurts?

“You have fat teeth”
This was told to me by a fat little girl that I was playing with on the playground with me when I was little. We were having an insult contest, and because this was the worst thing that she could think of to say I think that I won. I hope I have grown into them by now though.

“You have not had that much dancing experience, have you?”
Two different boys asked me this at the same dance after I stepped on their feet, leaving me with this conclusion: I don’t have that much dancing experience.

“You are the problem in this family!!!”
MY OWN MOTHER told me this. I don’t remember what I was doing, but surely it was nothing to deserve this mean thing to be said at me.

“You have the worst poker face ever.” Okay, this is a just accusation. I don’t have a poker face. I always lose those glaring contests that people have with each other. My goal is to get a better poker face.

“You are silly.”
This is true

After such a merciless onslaught of insults I have only one thing to say.  Ouch, that hurts?

Biking

These are some things that I don’t want to happen to me while I am riding downhill, on a bike, so fast that I can’t stop:


Accidentally hitting into the President of the United States.
I am sure that you bright people can surmise why I wish never to confronted with this situation.  Although, depending on who the president at the time is, this might not be an entirely bad thing.


Accidentally riding through a nudist colony.
I feel that this would be slightly embarrassing to both parties involved, and while I feel that I may gain some useful insights about human anatomy, and they might be slightly entertained by my frantic efforts to get the bicycle under control with my eyes shut, I feel that it would be best to avoid the situation.


Trying to ride through too small a space between Chuck Norris’ and Jackie Chan’s limos and putting a gigantic scrape down the side of each while they are at a stop light that is taking too long to change.
I think it would be unhealthy.

Multiplicities

So I was wondering what the plurals of different things were called, and because I was too lazy to look them up, and because I feel my mind is as sharp as the next, I took my best guess. Here they are. First I will list the singular, then what I think the multiplicity ought to be called:


Genius = Genei (i.e. Nine Genei can think better than one Genius)
Moose = Meese (Deductive reasoning based off of studying the Goose, Geese, relationship)
Flour = Flouers (i.e. “Now add six thousand flouers to the batter”)
Troll = Trolls (What else would you call them?)
Sushi = Sushies (i.e. “I will eat lots and lots of Sushies!!!” (I hate words that have no difference between the singular and the multiple, so we can at least add an “S” to the end of those ones.))
Chick = Chickies (i.e. “I just saw some hot Chickies walk past” If boys are going to talk about “Chicks” at least have them say “Chickies” so they sound absurd.)
Dish = A half hour of misery and unhappiness (i.e. “Now that we are finished eating go and do the half hour of misery and unhappiness!)
Monopoly = Monopoli (i.e. “Look how many more Monopoli I have accumulated than you!”)

Cooking #2

One day I was making blueberry muffins.  On the front of the package it showed a picture of what they were supposed to look like when they were done, all buttery, golden, crumbly, with delicious plump blueberries placed strategically throughout.
To make them all I had to do was put the mix in a bowl, open the can of blueberries included in the package, add water, and mix them up and pour in muffin tins.  Simple.
I did it all perfect, I swear, but something went wrong.  First it got lumpy and gooey.  Then my beautiful project turned GRAY!  I don't know how or why or when, but somehow in the process of mixing blueberries, mix, and water, the batter turned a sickly blueish gray!  Oh sadness!  My goal of impressing everyone with my amazing culinary skills evaporated and I was left looking at my shattered dream, gray and lumpy in the bottom of a bowl.  I sadly poured the mess into tins and stuck it in the oven.
Of course my bad luck couldn't end there.  I of course forgot about them, so that the tops of them burned, and the batter was so thick that the insides were still gooey, and I forgot to grease the tins so that the only part of the muffins that came out of the tin was the gooey insides and the burned tops.  All gray and filled with lumps.  I am going to hire a cook when I get older.

Pick up lines

So here are some cheesy Mormon pick up lines. They are really quite clever. Here they are:

“Are you the iron rod? Because I want to hold fast to you forever.”

“Even with the liahona I get lost in your eyes.”

(While looking at the person you like.) “What is your favorite temple? I am looking at mine.”

Ask a cute person what their name is. When they tell you say “Oh! I’ve heard that name in my patriarchal blessing!”

If you are a boy you can ask a girl “Would you like to hold the priesthood?” Then give her a hug.  Ha ha.

Driving

So my supervised driving period is over and I can get my license. Actually my parents are slightly unwilling to let me make that step for four reasons.


Reason # 1
I was backing our van out of the garage and I started turning too early before I was quite out of the garage and put a big ugly scrape all down the side of our gorgeous van.


Reason # 2
I let my attention stray when I was driving up to go into the garage and looked at mom, therefore I did not pay attention to the small fact that I was rolling and the garage door was not all of the way open yet. I bent the garage door so badly that it couldn’t open and cracked the front bumper of the car. We went inside the garage and kicked the door until it could open, but it still has a nice scar.


Reason # 3
I was going around an icy corner way too fast (about one million miles an hour) and fishtailed. I pushed what I thought was the break pedal, but it turned out that it was really the gas pedal. Heh heh. Anyway, I spun in a circle and shot off the road into our dear nice neighbors mailbox. I bent the mailbox, put a dent the size of two soccer balls in the side of the car, broke the tail light, and got whiplash.


Reason # 4
I was backing up and hit a tree.


Anyway, I am not going to get my license for a while because of these and a few other close calls. I resolve to be a better driver :)

The Bus

Each year my mom’s friend sets up a group to go to a theater in a nearby state to watch a play, then have a tour of the theater after. It is always fun.

Usually we just drive down ourselves and meet at the theater, but this year she hired a “Tour bus” (Ha ha!) to take us down.

We all met in a church parking lot to board the bus. It wasn’t there yet so we hung out for a little while in our cars. 

Finally, (there should have been a drum roll) up came the BUS! It was a majestic old school bus, (emphasis on old) painted black around the sides, with the words “Old Faithful Christian Ranch” painted on the sides. The windows were decorated beautifully with window paint, showing phrases such as “Go Jesus!”, “I love you Jesus!” And “Got God?” The crowning touch though, was the back window. Inscribed in giant colorful letters was the phrase “HONK IF YOU LOVE JESUS!!!”  We stared at it for a while, not daring to be the first to enter. “You have got to be kidding me.” muttered someone. 

Finally we all scuttled inside, hunching down in our seats so nobody could recognize us. The motor roared to life, and we were off!

My brother and I and some of our friends slunk to the back and sat there.

It is amazing how fast your embarrassment will wear off when you are on a long bus ride.  Within ten minutes we were peering out the windows at the scenery to relieve the boredom that was encroaching from all sides. A few minutes later we were playing paper games. A few minutes later we were singing. A few minutes later we tried to get some cars to honk. And so it went. You get the idea. It started to get fun.

We finally arrived at the theater. At the same time as lots of normal school buses. The shame returned to some of the members of the party. They threw their hoods over their faces and scuttled inside the theater as fast as their legs could carry them, which gave the impression that they were masked blurs.

I, on the other hand, was PROUD of Jesus. I put a swing into my walk and lifted up my head as I passed through the sinners that had come on other busses. Let them scoff and scorn. They would pay in heck.

The play was amazing, the tour after wards was neat. I will not elaborate on that part, as that is not what the story is about. The play was done. Time to head back out to the infamous bus.
The ride back was even better that the one there. One of my friends had brought a huge four pound bag of Reeses Pieces, some of us had giant root beer floats, and there was candy everywhere. We responded naturally and were all hyper. Heh heh.

We decided that all jeeps were driven by aliens who could hear us. So whenever we saw a jeep we needed to alert the rest of the people in the bus without letting the aliens hear us. So if we saw a jeep we would yell “SEAGULL!!!” and duck, screaming, behind benches.

Now we wanted people to honk, so whenever we passed someone we would press our faces against the window and make fish faces and pump our arms up and down.
We made a band and sang songs really loud.
We hid under benches as we crossed the boarder so that we wouldn’t get arrested. (I don’t know why we would have gotten arrested, but we would have, I am sure.)
We told ghost stories.
We made lists.
We ate, and ate, and ate, Reeses Pieces.We did the wave up one side of the bus and down the other, and it actually looked really cool.
We did yoga.
We told jokes for about an hour.
You get the idea. We had fun!
When we finally got back to the church parking lot where we had met that morning it was ten at night. We loaded into our cars.

As we were leaving the parking lot I looked back at our Old Faithful Christian ranch bus.
It will always hold a special place in my heart, but may I never see it again.