Then you lay your hands freezing on me, and I mumble can you wake me later

So I have given up my much criticized somewhat crazy habit of waking up at 5 am! Though I am saddened by this new development, it has become necessary to change my pursuit for physical perfection to one of mental stability :)

The title is just in reference to how refreshing it is to wake up when I naturally wake up as opposed to when the evil (yet greatly appreciated) little ipod starts playing and the cold air beckons me from my cozy self heated slumber. 

So I'm just taking a month off of swimming (and even though you don't care, I'll explain why).

A) I'm exhausted and I'm soon headed off for a business trip to Germany where energy is of the utmost importance, hence the need to at least restore myself back to balance if not stock pile

B) Even though my schedule hasn't changed, more things happen at night in the summer and people stay up later, making it all that much harder to get up at 5 am... seen how I'm hardly one to leave a party early

So, that is all. 

Changing subjects, Pixar's Up came out this week. It's projected that it would take about 105,854 balloons, each 3 feet in diameter to actually lift a house. Since I'm about a thousand times lighter than a house, I calculate that it would take only 106 balloons to lift me. Cool. But then I wonder... If one popped and you continued popping one by one would you gradually descend back to earth, or would the lack of just one create such a weight difference that you would immediately plummet? I would like to know before I try.

You're a fine girl, what a good wife you would be

So Bro. Judd gave some dating advice from the pulpit last sunday, and it was not only wise and inspired, but entertaining enough that I feel the need to share. 

First he stands up and says that the boys need to listen up. He says "Boys, you only need 3 things in a girl. First, find a girl who is more spiritual than you. Turn to your right. Yeah, every girl you see is more spiritual than you. Second, find a girl who is more intelligent than you. Turn to your left. Yeah, she's smarter than you too. Finally, find a girl who is better looking than you are. I don't even need to address that."

Then once the laughing dies down, he says "Ladies, listen up, LOWER YOUR STANDARDS. No guy is going to be perfect. He's not going to be the man you want him to be until he's been married to you for 25 years. So just find yourself a guy who honors his priesthood and you'll do ok."

Ha ha, I love my ward. So there ya go, straight from the bishopric's mouth. I'll let you know how this new pearl of wisdom ends up fitting into my repertoire.

I've got the gift of one liners...

I work. A lot. Some might call me a workaholic. At any rate, though many say that my work stories are funny, I feel that my families eyes tend to glaze over every time I tell them, so I'll share my random ponderings of the day.

(***WARNING: Insights into Carla's psyche are about to be divulged. It might be scary, mostly interesting, just consider yourself warned.***)

While swimming this morning, I got to thinking that it would be kind of hilarious to dump a shark into a pool with unsuspecting swimmers (ha ha mostly of the senior citizen variety). I pondered my own reaction to finding a shark in the pool. I imagine I would be kind of terrified, but what if you breed sharks to be friendly like dolphins, so you could swim with them? Could you breed sharks to be friendly? Alas, I suppose it doesn't matter because the obscene amount of chlorine in the pool would surely kill any living creature (I've decided that the globules of fat buildup distributed through out my body, thanks to macrackaroni grill are the only thing saving me from imminent chlorine poisioning.).

Next thought, while shaving I got to considering the lengths which women will go to in order to remove unwanted hair. We have all sorts of products from razors to Nair to various cremes and then cold and hot waxes. Among my friends, each and every method has been tried and it pretty much boils down to different strokes for different folks. But here's my question, how come you never hear about guy's doing anything but shaving? I don't see why a guy couldn't wax his face (girls do their eyebrows) or use Nair (they have face cream)? I'm curious if it's just social norms, or if a guy has tried some other method, or if someone is willing to volunteer and then post on this blog about his experience (I might possibly love you forever, and then proceed to talk about you in every conversation for the next two weeks). 

Hmmm... anyhow, now I'm lost in more thoughts and can't remember my other ponderings. Maybe next time. 

Oh and Jamie, Jo and Tyrone think that I am funny, so I figured I'd share my quote of the week. (Context: I'm getting ready to go to the gym Wednesday night (I've already had swimteam in the morning, and rollerblading that afternoon)) 

Jo: "What are you doing? You're not going to the gym again? You've already worked out 3 hours today!!!"

Carla: "Yes, (eye roll), because some day a boy is going to come and sweep me off my feet, and I need to be light enough to be swept! (smirk)"

I've been roaming around, I was looking down at all I see

So I just embarked on my first trip out of the country (that I can fully recall) and here's the recap.

Canada is pretty much just an extension of America. Same restaurants, stores, street signs, school buses, music, etc. etc.

In order to end on a high note, the disappointments of the trip include: not getting a stamp in my passport (what's up with that Canada?), Canada hasn't reached spring yet (a season in which everywhere in the world is infinitely more beautiful), and gas is twice as expensive.

Ok, now on to the funny things from Canada!



They had these funny animal hats. I liked the monkey the best, but the pig was pretty funny too.

Loved these t-shirts. Very Clever.





And these are Tissue box holders. I laughed so hard when I saw them, so of course I had to take a picture.





This is a beer ad. We laughed so hard, we decided we had to get a picture on the way back. So we pulled over and then I ran across the interstate to the other side to get a picture of this billboard. Why is it beer ads are always the best?

They say it's your birthday... But nobody likes you when you're 23

22 was a pretty good year. Twenty two in review:

It all began with a birthday buddy celebration. A friend at work and I share the same birthday so we went to Macaroni Grill with 14 of our co-workers (we only invited the cool people :)). Normally going to work for my birthday dinner would royally suck, but it was a blast with everyone there and with all our discounts we got a $240 bill down to $70 bucks. So we tipped Peter a hundred bucks. It was awesome!

So I started the year off extravagantly, and it quickly turned into the year of travels! Cassie and I embarked on a trip to San Fran (beautiful) and ended with Reno (not beautiful... ha and that's an understatement). It was a blast. Then Heather, Emily and I went to Chicago. It was the perfect trip. Beautiful weather, awesome city, great food. If I had to pick a big city to live in, Chicago would definitely be it ... (from late june to september that is). Then Cassie and I got sick of Provo again, so we planned a trip last minute and headed down to L.A. followed by San Diego. Of course I had to hit up N.C. for Christmas, which is always more relaxing than adventurous, but N.C. still has my heart so that's ok. And to start the year 2009 off strong Heather, Emily and I went to New York and Boston. Very cool! And I recently ended the travels of my twenty second year with a trip to Canadia! It's been awesome! And summed up in one paragraph it all just seems even cooler.

There was also a decent number of firsts in the year 2009. My first broadway show (followed by several more... and I saw WICKED!!). My first NBA game (jazz, and then I saw the bobcats beat the knicks). My first international travel (that I can remember). First pair of designer jeans (it's so worth the money... i promise you don't have to wear clothes that don't fit). My first year of TiVo (we don't have it anymore, but it was glorious while we did). My first time hiking Mt. Timp (and what a hike!)

So, yeah, though the day to day seems pretty mundane and repetitive to me, when I look at the year in review... not too shabby. So bring on 23! My descent into the mid-20's is official (yeah, liz, I'm old... I know). I have high hopes for this year. It pretty much started with the news that I'm going to germany and well what better omen for a good year to come. So... bring it.

I wake up every evening with a big smile on my face

A little belated Easter Happiness for all of you. Many of you may know my extreme fondness for peeps, especially my love of microwaving peeps and my sister shared this with me, so I felt I should pass it along, Enjoy!




Also, I am basking in the Great White North this week (aka Canadia ((yes, I know how to spell Canada, but if they're Canadian's shouldn't it be Canadia)). So in honor of Canada, one more video...

Danke Schoen, darling Danke Schoen

I know that I receive validation from the funniest sources. Such as, I'm not crazy because a character on a tv show arranges their closet the same OCD way that I do. Or I'm a great cook because some guy proposed to me over a piece of pie. Or I'm an intelligent human being because I kicked your trash on the spelling section of Cranium. I don't always need this validation (I enjoy my cooking, so who cares if everyone else does), but it feels good none the less.

This validation however, I needed.

I'm going to Germany!

I am going to Germany for my job. Yes, I still wait tables for the Macaroni Grill. I am going to Germany to open a new store for Macaroni Grill. They will pay for all my travel expenses, room and board as well as regular pay. I pretty much get paid to work for three weeks in Germany, and since you can't work 24/7, I will get paid to see Germany!

It may seem weak to those of you who feel that a job should fulfill you and give you a greater sense of purpose in life, but for me where this job pays the bills in a sucky economy and allows me the schedule to go and do things I have never previously had the opportunity, it's AWESOME!!! I finally feel like all this working my butt off at a job that doesn't require my education is finally paying me back. This is an incredible opportunity and all I can say is Ich bin so aufgeregt!

Cause it's you and me.... and all of the people

So my roommates hate me. Well Jo, and me. But we have decided that they definitely direct the hatred towards me.

"What?" You say. "Nobody hates you and Jo. Everyone loves you guys!"

I know right.

So here's the breakdown of the past two days. Yesterday, Jo said I could have one of her mom's homemade rolls. Yum. So then I ask if I can borrow some lunch meat and cheese to make a sandwich to which she of course responds yes. So I go to make the sandwich and grab 2 slices of meat. Well, apparently I grabbed McKenna's meat, not Jo's. So McKenna informs me of this, to which I apologize and explain that I thought it was Jo's (not to mention there's 5 packs of meat in the fridge, so how the crap am I supposed to know who's is who's). Well she then feels the need to in detail explain how to tell which meat belongs to each roommate, all over 2 slices of meat.

Then Jo gets home and she proceeds to inform Jo, "that she's not mad, but Carla took some of her meat because she thought it was yours." Jo, of course, says "oh yeah I said she could have some, but didn't tell her which was mine. Sorry."

Seriously.

It's 2 slices of meat. Is she really that concerned about what... ten cents. Let's calculate all the things I cover, such as utilities and how every roommate borrows my cooking ingredients. And we need to split hairs because of some lousy meat that was in all actuality probably going to go bad anyhow.

Well, then I get home from swimming this morning and Jo tells me that she is going to Mexico! She's rightfully excited and I guess we were talking kind of loud, so McKenna opens her door and says "Carla, I'm still trying to sleep!"

Geez, it's 8 something at this point, we're just talking and laughing, I'm not blaring my music, and this is a FIRST! We're never loud in the morning, I never blare my music when the roommates are home, I'm never up really late, and I don't make a lot of noise in the morning. (I kind of want to write WTF, but it's so offensive when written, this is when I need a camera, so you can all picture Peter saying WTF in a tone that is reminiscient of a punk 6th grade girl).

So, basically I'm thinking I must have done something else to tick her off. Nobody is that uptight about meat, right? At any rate, Jo says I shouldn't care because they're moving out in less than a month. Well, cosmos, or divine ruler of roommate allocation, please oh pretty please (it's been 2 years of crazy's and just plain not fun roommates (minus Rachel, who unfortunately was never home)) bless Jo and myself with some chill roommates that we can actually be friends with. I beg, I plead, I'll even offer my cooking skills as bribery. The end.

Working on a suntan we don't even try to block it

For enrichment tonight we essentially did hair and make-up make overs (What Not To Wear was brought up regularly). So while I was being improved by the 'glamour technicians' in my ward, I laughed about all the layers and bronzers etc. which started a discussion about tanning.

Now, when a sister has skin cancer and I've already accumulated 4 solid years of lifeguarding skin damage, I can't justify tanning. So, I've decided to try the spray on tans. Of course everyone has an opinion about this, which lead to lots of discussion.

So I posed the question "Why can't we just dye skin? Why can't I just dye my skin to the color I want it to be and be done with it?"

Shelli responds: "Michael Jackson did that."


Game over.

And get to church cause you're a good girl

So I feel that I am aware of body language, others as well as my own, yet I have a hard time controlling my body language.

Yesterday morning, at an unholy hour, I was sitting in a meeting with the Stake Relief Society Presidency going through RS training. I can only imagine the hostility projecting from my facial expressions. As second counselor I am over Enrichment, and the presidency informed me that I need to be hosting at least one enrichment activity a month that is centered around cooking. They explained to me that the girls in our stake are lacking in homemaking skills, because we don't cook and the girls don't know how to crochet, knit and tad.


AHHHEEMMMMMMM..... EXCUSE ME!

WHAT THE FREAK IS TADDING YOU ASK?

Exactly.

Tadding for your information is basically a more intricate form of crochetting. Why do I need this skill? Hellifiknow. (It seems less like cussing when it's one slurred word). I prefer to save myself 20 hours of work and spend $2 employing children in sweat shops in China for that sort of thing.

Also, I'm rather annoyed by their assumption that the girls in the stake don't know how to cook. Just because we are not coming home and cooking 4 course meals each night does not mean we do not know how to cook. I'm sorry, I'm actually a pretty great cook (I base this off the *mulitple* marriage proposals I have received solely based on my cooking abilities). It's unrealistic to cook big dinners for one. I'm just as happy with yogurt and cereal as I am with a pot roast.

And why is this the concern of our leaders anyhow. Perhaps they should have focused on this while we were in Young Women's and we were still in a family setting, where we could practice... or with the young married couples who are struggling. I suggest we focus on actual skills that would be valid for a 20 something year old girl in the 21ST CENTURY!

I don't need to know how to pluck a chicken, how to tad, or how to hang mosquito netting in my kitchen. Perhaps I could be learning skills that will aid me in all stages of life (whether I have the opportunity to get married or not), such as stress management, money management, or heck even how to invest my money now that I am an educated woman who is supporting herself.

I also resent the assumption that the girls in the stake lack homemaking skills. I mean look at it from my point of view. I am in the Relief Society Presidency. So one of 45 girls that they actually work with, and they don't even know my name, let alone do they know that in fact I can cook, arrange flowers, sew, crochet, make bread, and all the other little "creative" skills they mentioned in this meeting. So if they didn't bother to ask me, one of the girls they work with, why should I believe that they know other girls in the stake are struggling?

All in all I don't think I am really so much annoyed at the things that were said so much as the way they said them to me. They put on this voice (you've heard it if you've listened to the majority of sisters talks in General Conference), where they speak to you like you're young and not quite capable of processing all the information. It's almost as if they raised their voice to a normal level and didn't talk slowly the spirit would leave. It's frustrating, and I find a hard time believing that's the voice they use with their family and friends.

So, if you actually made it through reading this whole post (sorry I know it's long), I need your help. I obviously need to work on my christ-like love (more than my cooking), and I need help understanding these women. Any advice, chastening, comments, or questions are greatly desired!

Betty Davis, James Dean, and Gable, never know what she means to me, I fell for the girl that's on tv

I love television.

I hate to admit it, but I mean I could spend hours watching mind numbing, soul sucking, fat cell accumulating television. I love it all, from the morning news shows to the house shows on HGTV to reality tv show marathons (project runway anyone?) to the favorites on TBS (does friends ever get old?) to TLC to Oprah and even USA and more.

In my defense, I don't. Thank goodness. But the point is that I could. Probably happily. I wish I was one of those intellectual people that couldn't be bothered with television and recognized it as the dribble that it is, which is slowly corrupting our society, and yet...

I allow myself one or two shows with which I can soak up, love, obsess, and completely devote my attention to once a week. These shows allow me to feel the drama and the gamet of emotions in one hour that the Mac Grill either doesn't provide or that I don't really want to feel in my own life, just in the watching of someone else's. In high school, my obsession was Gilmore Girls. I never missed an episode and I loved that show, well still love. They were witty, fast talking, fun and I wanted to be just like that. But, sadly most shows decline at some point. So then I loved Alias. Sydney Bristow was kick-A, and ridiculously intelligent. Ahh, if only I could speak 27 languages, run in heels, and defend myself against pretty much anything. Well of course, Alias went down the drain as well. Then in college Grey's Anatomy came out. Now here's a true guilty pleasure! It's a dirty show, but it has the drama, the hot guys, the medical background (which of course we all know I secretly wish I was a doctor, and I unrealistically wish it was as glamorous as it is on tv). Anyhow, I have followed this show since it started, and admittedly season 1 & 2 were the best, season 3 was ok, season 4 got weird, and though season 5 started off rocky... the last few weeks have reminded me why I have a show, why I plan my schedule around it, and why Grey's is that show.

If you have never watched Grey's, I have a track record of hooking every single one of my roommates on the show, so come over, kick back, and we'll have a good time.

Oh and as if that weren't enough, I also get all my favorite music off this show.



Oh ok, i couldn't leave it at just one

I miss your purple hair, I miss the way you taste

Have you ever been left with someone's scent lingering on an item of yours and then you miss them?

Scent is an interesting thing. Why is it that when you spend extended amounts of time with certain people you pick up their scent on your clothes, or even when you borrow some people's clothes it has a scent, whereas other people's do not?

Jo and I spend hours discussing random thoughts, but this one is still bugging me. When I borrow Jo's clothes I can't smell anything, and she says the same thing about me, yet when I borrow some of my other friends clothing it has a scent. Now, of course you immediately think it's because we live together. Well, we don't use the same detergent, perfumes, or lotions. Also when I have visited her parent's house I don't pick up on a scent, and I have other friends who similarly don't have a scent. Some of my friends, however, I merely have to give them a hug and I recognize their scent.

So I wonder why this is? Are some people like a blank slate? No scent? Or is it that their scent is similar to mine, so I don't notice it? Or is it really living together that masks it? Which then begs, when you get married does your spouse lose their scent as you then use all the same products? When they go out of town and then come back, do you all of a sudden recognize their scent again?

I would propose to do a scientific study where a group of individuals all used scentless cosmetics (shampoo, lotion, deodorant, soap, etc.) and the same detergents and then after a week we could smell all of them to see if they smell any different. But since I live in the city of the vain (i.e. Provo), the odds of getting a sizeable group of people to go without scented products for an extended period of time is highly unrealistic. Therefore I must rely on your feedback. Let me know what you think.


Also, do I have a scent other than my perfume? (If it's the Mac Grill essence, don't tell me)

And today was a day just like any other

Ok just the random ramblings going through my brain today....

1. I have way too many movies I want to watch and never any time to watch them. The list is around 20 right now.

2. I also have far too many books to read, and the gorgeous weather to sit outside and do it.... but alas

Number 3. At work we are having a sales contest, and the workaholic/competitive side of me seriously wants to if not win at least give everyone a run for their money, which obviously leads to way too much working.

4. Speaking of work, a girl came in today that smelled just like Kelly Estes used to in high school. I can't remember what perfume Kelly wore though.... (i remember she loved clinique happy, but it wasn't that, because i was never the biggest fan)

5. Back to the books, though I'm still working on the actual quality novels I should devote more time to, I did finish '211 Things A Clever Girl Can Do' (my new fav. book). And I feel the need to share some of my newly acquired insights.

These gems are from the article "How to Escape the Second Date"
-If you're already out on a date, blow your nose on the tablecloth
-Pinch every male bottom in sight (waiters are especially good)
-Develop a maniacal laugh and a strange twitch
-Never just stand him up. That would be unladylike.

ha, there were many others, but those were my favorites.

And lastly, yay for St. Patty's day tomorrow! I'm seriously stoked. More details to come on all my celebrating.

Baby you a star and it's time that you know it

Ok, so I gotta indulge myself for a moment... I'm sorry. (Of course this would fall under the whole journal-ing purpose of blogs, so if you don't want to read this post, well then... don't.)

So occasionally in life people give you compliments that just stay with you. It might be because you just needed to hear that particular statement at that time, but I personally believe it's because the compliment is actually sincere. I'm not trying to say that people never mean what they say when they say something nice; however, I think we generally throw around a lot of "I like your hair today," or "You're a great singer." But, occasionally someone says something to me that catches my attention and just stays with me.

Anyhow, I was chatting with one of my guy friends, who is a great guy to which all I can say is "if only," on facebook and he told me that he was looking through some of my more recent pictures. Then he says "Carla, I don't even care if this makes you uncomfortable, but you're a hottie."

Ha ha, see the point isn't about whether I believe him or not... he just actually gave me a compliment in such a way that I know he believes what he said. Well... and it made me feel pretty good about myself yesterday.



(So there ya have it... in 80 years when my grandkids are flipping through my printed off blog entries, they'll know their grandma was a hottie!)

Shawty whatcha think about that!

"NOOP DAWG!!!"

So Anoop Desai has been on my ipod for about 5 years. My best friend Marti went to Governor School with him. He sang on an acapella group at East Chapel Hill High before joining the Clefhangers and now trying out for American Idol. I have all his cd's and I love his singing. My favorite's are definitely "She will be loved" and "Let's Get It On."

So, Anoop has been picked for the wildcard on American Idol, and although I'm purely just a fan, I feel the need to show my devotion through my blog. So Anoop, thanks for 5 years of great Acapella! Here's to hoping you win!

I know you will find out who you are

I read the Alchemist yesterday. It was an interesting read.

I typically hate books that talk about personal quests or journey's and trying to find the "universal soul" or your "chi" and all that sort of thing. It reminds me of Siddartha (a book we read in 10th grade), which I hated.

Most of the books that I have read in this sort of genre chronicle the main character kind of getting lost in the expedition for the greater understanding and knowledge and they lose sight of the importance of actually living your life. I think often people get caught up in the searching and moving on that they forget to live life in the moment. We talked recently in church about being where you're supposed to be when you're supposed to be there and that Heavenly Father will help take care of the rest. Basically if you're doing what you're supposed to the Lord will make things possible.

Anyhow, The Alchemist actually did a really good job of addressing my hatred of this genre, because the main character pauses in the middle of the book and reflects on why he is seeking a treasure when he has already gained so much, and then the book further explains this particular character's need to keep searching. So all in all, I enjoyed the book although I still don't see why his quest really was just for riches (I mean I know he learned a lot along the way, but isn't that the point, shouldn't the story emphasize the journey and the knowledge gained rather than the gold, because honestly who cares about the gold, he already proved he can earn money.)

ANYWHO.... the book got me thinking about my journey, and that perhaps I'm missing the boat and should be seeking out something I'm not, but mostly it made me think that maybe I need to learn to be happy doing what I'm doing, and make the most of P-Town. I'm sure the next step will come in due time. As I was going through all these ponderings, the book reminded me of a song I used to love in.... oh i don't know, probably 8th grade.

"Leaving Town"

Oh your reputation is so golden
You're never lonely and you're never home
I know you've been talking about leaving
You've lost all your feelings for this town.
Paint your nails and put on your lipstick
You don't want to miss your ticket out.
Just because you graduate from school
So high in the gene pool that's your point of view.

But when you're broke and down and no one else is around
You'll come running back to this town and
I'll be there, yeah I'll be there.

'Cause I remember how we drank time together
And how you used to say that the stars are forever.
And daydreamed about how to make your life better by
Leaving town, leaving town.

Pack your bags, your smokes in your pocket
You're wearing my locket around your neck
Take a drag and wait for the Greyhound
The world is your playground and you want to win.

But when you're broke and down and no one else is around.
You'll come running back to this town and
I'll be there, yeah I'll be there.

'Cause I remember how we drank time and
How you used to say that the stars are forever.
And daydreamed about how to make your life better by
Leaving town, leaving town.

Nothing in life will ever come that easy.
Doesn't mean it has to be that hard.
I know you will find out who you are
But when you're broke and down and no one else is around.
You'll come running back to this town and
I'll be there, yeah I'll be there.

'Cause I remember how we drank time together
And how you used to say that the stars are forever.
And daydreamed about how to make your life better by
Leaving town, leaving town.
Yeah I remember how we drank time together and
How you used to say that the stars are forever.
And daydreamed about how to make your life better by
Leaving town, leaving town.
You're leaving town, yeah

It's a beautiful day, don't let it get away

Yes I am going to keep blogging about the weather.



IT IS GORGEOUS!!!!! Sixty degrees of fabulous beautiful weather! (Sorry to all you east coasters getting snow dumped on you... he he he, oh how the tables have turned). Ok, well not quite that gorgeous, more like this picture below.



Sixty degrees may not seem warm, but it feels amazing. I don't even care that it has been overcast and it looks like the worst storm is about to dump on us, because it's so warm I wore shorts!

Anyhow, that is all. The great update on my life is that the weather is amazing. I played tennis and the weather is amazing. Oh and I think I should give the camping another shot, now that I'm not fearful of frostbite.

This is my winter song to you, the storm is coming through

What is it about rainy days?

I love them. I'm from North Carolina where rain is a bit more frequent that out here in this barren wasteland we all fondly call Utah. I have so many great memories of warm rainy days... playing tennis with Kelly Estes, swim practices (swimming is ten times more fun in the rain), bike rides, washing my hair in the rain, and the list goes on and on.

Sometimes, rainy days are fabulous because you are allowed to be blissfully gloomy and lethargic all day. If it's raining nobody gives you a hard time for laying curled up in bed watching grey's anatomy, long after you should have gotten started with your day, which by the way is a perfect rainy day show. It's really good at balancing the gloomy and heavy subject material with the upbeat and funny.

So, you're probably wondering if I really am going to make a whole post devoted to the weather... and yeah, I am. Lately, I go to work and everyone feels the need to tell me what I am doing wrong with my life and how to fix it (we have a lot of new people at work, and a single graduated girl such as myself obviously needs advice). Anyhow, so as Meredith would say (in my fav. grey's episode of all time) "I just need to lay here in bed and feel like I might die today."





Gosh, dangit... i was going to include the clip from grey's, but i can't figure out how to get it from itunes to the blog. I need a class on blogging. Gah.

I want a sunburn just to know that I'm alive

Well, I know that I'm alive... i just want a sunburn, or more specifically a tan. I look better with a tan. See below.

Ok, nevermind. I was gonna get some pictures off facebook when I was tan, but since Facebook has been college and later for me, there's no pictures on there from my lifeguarding days, and I haven't really had a decent tan since. Moving on...

Ches and Em came down to play with me on my day off and it was so nice outside yesterday, that we just started talking about all our good times in Provo when the weather's nice. I feel that the majority of my happy memories occur during good weather. Of course a lot of my favorite Provo memories involve those two as well, so all in all, it was a great day off. (And I realize I need to take days off a little more often, because it shouldn't feel like my birthday just because I have a day off).


Anyhow, I hope you've now realized just how pointless this post is. I felt guilty for not paying attention to blog worthy details in my life lately, and just wanted to get something on here.

How do you measure, measure a year?

Five hundred, twenty five thousand six hundred minutes....

12,834 Diet Cokes with lime
9,473 loaves of free bread
5,261 penne rustica's
10 white button up shirts
3 pairs of non-slip shoes
a handful of memorable moments and several more I wish i could forget

A year ago, I never thought I'd still be at the Macrackaroni Grill. How do you measure a year?


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Curse, my OCD... i'm not satisfied with this post because it doesn't actually match the meter of the song, but I'm also too tired to rewrite the song right now... perhaps tomorrow

Once and for all there's a fire inside me that won't stop burning

Thank You Technology Super Geniuses who have blessed my life with the ipod and it's respective shuffle option.

After a gruelling swim practice this morning, I got in my car to face the snowy/slushy roads ahead and what came on my ipod, but..... drumroll please.... OPEN THE GATES AND SEIZE THE DAY! DON'T BE AFRAID AND DON'T DELAY. NOTHING CAN BREAK US NO ONE CAN MAKE US, GIVE OUR RIGHTS AWAY.... ARISE AND SEIZE THE DAY!

Now seriously what is more motivating than newsies at 8 am. So of course I listened to the whole soundtrack. I suppose some of my motivation could definitely be attributed to the weekend, but I'm ready. I'm ready to seize the day, and the week. Bring it on!



(The only negative in all of this, was the thought that perhaps when the ten year olds of today are my age, they will feel about High School Musical how I feel about Newsies. Sick. Seize the Day is ten times better than we're all in this together.)

One day I'll turn around and see your hand reach out.... I'm only fooling myself

Jo's friend wrote this paper for a feminist english professor. I don't necessarily agree with the whole paper, but I found it to be entertaining. So although it is long, when you have a moment it's worth the read.

TO BE FOOLED


Provo, Utah. I love it. That is, usually love it. Not today though. It’s one of those days, you know? One of those days where, you accidentally set your alarm to P.M. instead of A.M. Those days where you race to the bus stop and just as you arrive, the bus drives away without you. One of those days where, as you walk into class the teacher pauses, and stares you down. He just wants to let you know, that he knows, you are late. And as you finally take a seat in the middle of the row, where you had to climb over everyone and all their crap, you realize you left the assignment that was due on your desk at home. Yea, it’s one of those days.

Today is just not my day, and since it’s not my day, I am going to see to it that it is not anyone else’s day either. I do that, sweet, I know. I plan on slapping on one of those faces that says, “Are you serious right now?” the next time I see a painfully happy blond with her hair teased to high heavens. I plan on spitting out my gum on the sidewalk between the Wilkinson’s Center and the Library. I plan on “accidentally” tripping one of those guys who walks around with his blue tooth in his ear, like he’s so important. I will definitely try to walk right in between those overly comfortable couples who synchronize their steps and have their digits entwined. Honestly though, who can stand those people?

Why am I so bitter? Obviously I am having a crummy day, but what is it really? Boys. Yep, that’s it-- the root of all evil. Boys can bring out the best and the absolute worst in girls without even realizing it. Boys can make girls do the craziest things. I mean, they are the only reason we all wake up an hour earlier then necessary to blow dry, straighten, lift, trim, press, pluck, shave, wax, and steam ourselves into absolute discomfort. There is not a minute of any single day that passes without every single girl everywhere thinking about some boy. It’s true. A girl is not satisfied until the boy of her focus notices her. A girl’s day may be going grand: she may earn the high score on her exam, receive a raise at work, or finally complete a Rubik’s cube in less than three minutes. However, her day is leaps and bounds better when the boy who sits two seats in front of her and a row over turns around and comments on how her appearance looks very fetching that particular day. From that moment, on the list of the day’s events, the high score on the exam takes a back seat to the boy. Even though some boys may be too dense to realize it, a single girl’s world revolves around some boy, somewhere.

As a young lady in high school I can always remember my Mother telling me to hold out for college boys. Not the kind of normal college boys you may be thinking of, no, BYU college boys to be more specific. These boys were held to a higher standard in our household than normal boys. “BYU boys” are intelligent, honorable, well dressed, clean cut, respectful, handsome, put together, return missionaries, and ambitious. Basically, BYU boys were a dream.

It was the most disappointing day of my life when I realized that BYU boys are just that, a dream. I’ve been at BYU now for a little over two years and it has taken me about that long to admit to my self that BYU boys are just like all boys everywhere. My first two years here I spent dating a variety of boys and I just kept hoping that one of them would impress me. That one of them would prove me right, that there are a plethora of Prince Charmings in Provo, Utah. Sadly, this never happened. Needless to say, my dating life has been a stream of disappointments, but for some reason I have been choosing to keep my dreams alive. It wasn’t until this last semester that I realized that my expectations for BYU boys are completely unrealistic.

Let me prove my point. A few weeks ago I was out with a seemingly wonderful gentleman. He was an accomplished individual, with great taste and we instantly hit it off. I had previously decided not kiss him till at least our third date, with hopes that this would encourage a healthy relationship. Our first two outings were very enjoyable and I did kiss him on the third date. This is where things went terribly amuck. After our third date he announced that he had a fabulous time, but wanted to just be good friends. (Now I am confident that I am not a bad kisser, so lets just discredit this theory right now. I would be happy to provide a list of references if you need further proof.) What had just happened? What did I do wrong? I was full of questions and needed answers. Upon further questioning and probing, he admitted that he truly was all about the chase. It goes without saying that I was disappointed. I was not only disappointed that he did not want to pursue anything, I was frustrated that my whole “don’t-kiss- till-third-date” rule had completely failed in weeding out the jerks like it was intended to.

No guy is ever going to be perfect, he is never going to date me and only me, and like me immediately. No guy is going to bring me flowers on a first date, be a fabulous conversationalist, and continue to take me on regular dates-even after a few months. No guy is ever going to say all the right things or be all the right things. This just isn’t going to happen. As I stated before, the guys here are just like all guys everywhere. They will make a wonderful first impression, leaving you in the clouds, then drop off the face of the planet entirely. They play games and mess around, date you’re girlfriends behind your back. They are immature and self centered. They stop opening doors for you after the third date. They say all that you want to hear to make you feel that false connection, then never call again. Boys fake whatever they want, an image, a connection, an impression, till they get what they want. They use you.

So if I am so knowledgeable on the true nature of guys, why do I still permit myself to be fooled? That answers easy. I want to be fooled.

I want to believe that the perfect man is taking me on a date, that it is not all a facade. That he really does love being with me, that he really means it when he kisses me. I know I said that I’ve stopped dreaming this semester, but I lied. All girls dream. They dream that the ideal man is real, that he loves only them and that he is just waiting around the next corner. Wishful thinking.

So maybe it’s our fault. Maybe the perfect man for us does not really exist. We will eventually just find someone that puts on an act believable enough, and then spend the rest of our lives being too forgiving. He will hold the title of “Prince Charming” in our minds as we block out reality. It must be our fault.

It is our fault that we have grown up with Disney movies telling us that there is such thing as a Mr. Right, that dreams do come true. It is our fault that we have bought into all the mush, romance, and fictional dramas. It is our fault that we believe in fairytales. We hope and pray and wish these fantasies into our realities. All the while knowing, that these images of Princes and carriages are only fantasies, not real life occurrences. It is our fault that we are crushed after a painfully honest date. It is our fault that we are repeatedly broken hearted. A perfect man does not exist in any non-fiction realm.


I don’t want to believe that though. I want to believe that a real-live Mr. Wonderful is out there. One who says he loves me and truly means it. One who is perfect for me, and only me. I want to be fooled.

I ain't slept in 8 days, I can go for 8 weeks, ain't nothing to me...

So my lack of sleep is starting to become somewhat ridiculous. I'm exhausted, and I'm so excited to take a nap I planned one into my schedule! Unfortunately I don't have time until next Tuesday.

I know, I know. I chose to join the swimteam, so therefore I choose to get up at 5 am to go swimming. And, all of this means technically speaking the sleep deprivation is self-inflicted (which provides an interesting question as to whether self-inflicted v. torture device sleep deprivation ramifications are the same?)

Anywho, I digress, the point is.... it's sunday morning. I am up after a 3 hour nap (I hardly feel I can call 3 hours of sleep a night's rest) working on my lesson for Relief Society. It's SUPER exciting. (Dangit... sometimes I really do hate technology because my tone and sarcasm don't translate. What if in 60 years I've become some sort of spiritual giant who's abandoned sarcasm and then my grandchildren don't understand my journal entries when superimposing that personality onto the entries. Highly unlikely you say (the abandoning sarcasm, not my grandchildren lacking understanding) well, you're probably right, but what if?)

Where was I?

Oh yeah, I'm tired. And I'm teaching my relief society about dating today. Joy. But, as my name is Carla Morgan and I often spout the adage "All of life's lessons can be learned from the movies," what would a lesson be without a classic movie quote?

So as Hitch states

Basic Principles - no woman wakes up saying "Geez, I hope I don't get swept off my feet today!" Now, she might say "This is a really bad time for me," or something like "I just need some space," or my personal favorite "I'm really into my career right now." You believe that? Neither does she. You know why? 'Cause she's lying to you, that's why. You understand me? Lying! It's not a bad time for her. She doesn't need any space. And she may be into her career, but what she's really saying is "Uh, get away from me now,"

I believe you can be anything you want to be

I've been inspired by a post Oliver wrote a week or two ago.

For the past year, my facebook profile description has been this little bit:
I think honeysuckle is a rare delicacy. March Madness is my favorite season. I wear a pocket knife on my belt. I want a pet Jackalope, and in my mind I'm going to Carolina... if there's anything else you need to know, just ask.

Well, things change over a year. You lose your pocket knife (or refuse to clean out your closet) and you get really busy, quit watching NCAA basketball and feel like a poser calling yourself a diehard fan. So here's to the new (not necessarily improved) me.

Hi, my name is Carla. I was born in Gaithersburg, Maryland, left my heart in NC and am now currently struggling to accept that I am a Utah resident. I graduated from college in 6 semesters, which only proves that I have crazy drive when I want to get something done. I wash my dishes before I put them in the dishwasher, can cook up a storm that would make my momma proud and I sing when I get tired. I prefer manual cars, working out with the 60 plus crowd and I don't do pretty.

Despite all these, I have friends whom I cherish more than words can express. I believe Muhammad Ali said it best when he said "Friendship is the hardest thing in the world to explain. It's not something you learn in school, But if you haven't learned the meaning of friendship, you really haven't learned anything."

I wanna run, but only far enough to make you miss me

I've decided that what type of bread you use makes all the difference in french toast. I wish I had more time so that I could make all sorts of bread and experiment with french toast, because really... there's just nothing as comforting as some quality french toast.









(and yeah, the title doesn't apply... sorry)

I want to be your last first kiss

Sometimes I feel as though people just tell me things, whether I invite them to or not. I don't know if you would classify this as part of my personality (hi my name is carla, please tell me your problems...) or what, and despite the fact that sometimes I hear spectacularly inappropriate things, most the time I actually really enjoy hearing people's stories.


At the pool today, there was a lady who just started talking to me. She was probably between 250 and 300 lbs. and she told me how's she lost 160 lbs. She says she's still huge and has a long way to go (which she does), but honestly 160 lbs is a lot! I mean, Biggest Loser alot. It's practically 1 1/3 of me or 4/3 or if you don't do math it's ALOT.

Anyhow, her size and story about her weight loss really weren't what interested me. She started telling me about her perfect daughter. (Honestly, sometimes it's hard to take parents seriously, because they all think their child is perfect. Well, except for mine, who probably hang their head in shame when being forced to admit that I attended BYU and that I currently wait tables for a living (although, that should provide endless material for their BYU jokes)). Ahh I digress.

So the daughter moved to Michigan to attend law school. Her first day in Michigan the landlords are not home to give her a key to her apartment, so she starts knocking on doors to see if she can crash in anyone's apartment for a bit. She knocks on one guys door and he invites her in. (From his angle, he was smitten from the get go). Well, she starts dating said guys roommate and her and the guy just become best friends. Long story, short (although, i believe to make a long story short, you just shouldn't tell it, but....) She ends up breaking up with the roommate, and the following sunday this guy that she has become friends with is speaking in sacrament. He's giving his talk and starts discussing how "by small and simple things are great things brought to pass," things that could change the course of your life and perhaps even eternity. Then, from the pulpit, he asks her out, knowing that she had just broken up with her boyfriend and this was his shot. She says yes, blah blah blah, and now they're married. (The blah's are not comparable to Elaine's on seinfeld, these are mormons we're talking about).

Fascinating story. I think, deep down, there is this part of me that wants to be a hopeless romantic and swoon over perfect timing and the potential romantic comedy in that situation, but I can't help but wonder what I would have done had I been the girl.

Cynic that I am, I probably would have been a little creeped out.

And thus... I continue to be single.

I'm going off the rails on a crazy train

I went snow camping.








Ha, don't worry... my body was fine, my psyche... well we're all starting to wonder if it was ever fine.

Everybody dance now...

You know those moments in life where you just feel complete. Those fleeting moments when you have simple unadulterated joy.

(pause)

These are the moments in life we cherish, no matter how ridiculous they may seem to others. These are the summer afternoon bike rides that end at the top of the mountain with a pink/orange sunset, or an unexpected but long desired kiss while standing in the middle of a rainstorm... eew, no, that is way too reminiscent of the notebook, scratch that entire scene.

Ok, back to perfect moments. Key word being "moments." You know, when you open the mailbox and realize you have a letter. Or, when you hear your new favorite song on the radio that you've been waiting to hear (this was mostly pre-ipod days). Or, when your roommate brings you home a bottle of Martinelli's to celebrate that fact that you got a "C" on your Econ test this time!

So, no matter how absurd I sound, last night I had one of these moments. It was glorious. It was exhilarating. And it was... the resurrection of the one song dance party.

Last night, we decided it was time to bring back our long overdue fanatical dance hobby called the one song dance party. Instigated around last October, the one song dance party was Monday through Thursday at 10:15 pm, and it was exactly that, one song. It was perfect, just enough so you start to get pumped and it leaves you wanting more, but not too tired to make up excuses not to come.

When Rachel moved out, the sound system moved out with her and we were left with a lack of equipment to host the one song dance party. So last night we decided to host the party in the underground parking garage and hook up our cars to play the music. We went around to each apartment and personally invited everyone in the complex. It was amazing! Best turnout we have ever had! At least 40 people showed up and shook their booty to "Let's Get It Started" (black eyed peas) (appropriate as this is the start of something). Anyhow, I can't share the happiness that ensued and resonated with me clear through this afternoon.

And though plans are not definite for a repeat, let me know if you'd like to come and I will surely send you an invite.




this is becca at the dance party!... oh and the reason i don't usually add photos, mom, is because I'm too stupid to figure out how to turn them the right way

I know a place where we can hide out and turn our lives inside out

DINNER WITH THE MORGANS

Mom: So I haven't been able to find Kim's sheets since we got home, and I'm worried we left them at the beach house.

Daughters: Well, we have other sheets... or sheets are on sale at Target this week.

Mom: Yeah, but I'm just curious where I left them.

Daughters: We don't know.

Mom: Hmmm... I think I put them in the cooler. Carla, where's the cooler?

Carla: In Heather's trunk.

Emily: Great, now heather will be ready in the event she needs to dispose of a dead body.

Jamie: She shouldn't use the sheets, they'll stain if you wrap a body in them. She should use plastic, like a shower curtain.

Carla: No, she should definitely use sheets. They're biodegradable, leaving less chance of the body being recovered.

Emily: Well, if she had a little aluminum foil she could just make a bomb!

Mom: Add in some gum and she's MacGuyver.


*Can I just point out, that no one asked why the sheets were in the cooler?*

**And can I also point out that my family finds it perfectly normal to discuss how to dispose of random dead bodies during dinner, and the fact that my sister is unknowingly prepared for such an unlikely event is nothing but awesome to us**

This is the song that reminds me of my trucker hat

My googling powers have failed me.


I want this hat.





Oh and I do realize that it's probably illegal to post this picture without said subjects permission.... shhh don't tell, but please let me know if you can help with the hat search! Danke schon