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Birthdays suck. Good thing they only come once a year.

Here's to karma

I was going through some old facebook messages and found this one that I sent to a friend. It's pretty classic.


"My 11 year old brother just got his own e-mail, so he's been introduced to the world of sappy emails that you forward on or karma will punish you. He sent me the one of a poem "written" by a girl dying of cancer with 6 months left to live who will never go to prom or have a family or blah blah blah. Also, it says for every person you forward it onto the American Cancer Society will donate 3 cents to her treatment. I told my mom, wow, I got this e-mail over 8 years ago, so it looks like this girl is still living and probably went to prom."


Tell 10 people about this blog or earthworms will infest your morning cereal. 

Bet Your Newsletter Isn't Like This

I apparently can't come up with original blog posts, so instead I'm torturing you with another e-mail I sent. This is the weekly RS newsletter I email out (it obviously changes from week to week). What can I say, I like seeing my post quantity up. But I do promise this isn't like usual Relief Society newsletters.  

After today's lesson (about talents for those of you who missed it), I decided to focus on developing my newsletter skills. You'll be seeing newsletters that have even more thought put into them, like "when life gives you lemons, re-gift them to a friend who is getting married." Man alive, my newsletter talent is blossoming already. What talent are you going to develop? I'd love to know. 

Monday: FHE at the Northpark Ward building to make pinewood derby cars. Little known fact -- Fred Flinstone traded in his stone and foot mobile for a pinewood derby car. Unfortunately, it only worked on downward slopes. 

Tuesday: Volleyball at 8 p.m. The volleyball currently being used was made in the same factory as "Wilson," the only famous volleyball from the movie Castaway. 

Wednesday: Fontana Stake YSA activity "Music Appreciation." I myself enjoy listening to a well rehearsed symphony of dog whistles. 

Thursday: Institute at 7 p.m. I'd be careful if the teacher tells you to open your heart to the scriptures; leave that stuff to heart surgeons. 

Friday: Dance somewhere. No, really, dance wherever you happen to be Friday night. 

Saturday: National Clean Out Whatever Is Under Your Bed day. This especially applies to those who keep the trolls with the jeweled bellies captive beneath their bed -- pretty sure that's against the law in some countries. 

Sunday: Father's Day -- so no potluck; instead cook your dad something real nice. But don't cook your nice neighbors. That's considered cannibalism and a violation of your home owner's association. 

*Those sisters who signed up for baptisms on the 14th -- this is your reminder that you are supposed to be there at 6 p.m. Feel free to carpool, but don't ever poolcar. 

*There was a mathematical error in last week's newsletter. Apparently the probability of meeting your EC at either FHE or linger longer is equal to the probability of meeting him at FHE plus the probability of meeting him at linger longer MINUS the probability of meeting him at both. 72.3% + 72.3% - (72.3% x 72.3%) = 92.3%. Not the 144.6% we were shooting for, but I say they are still good odds.

Until next Sunday (which by the way, the new Bishopric assigned me to talk, so come and show your love for me. And of course for Jesus.), I bid you a week of hugs, loves, and puppy dog doves. Whatever those are. 

Your stalwart presidency: [I usually include phone numbers and e-mail addresses, but to protect their innocence, I deleted it.]

President: Elissa *Once thought she could turn grapes into raisins if she held them on a plate and stood outside long enough.

1st Counselor: Iris  *Attempted to memorize the dictionary, but got stuck on aardvark.

2nd Counselor: Danielle*Graduates this Saturday. We always knew she'd make it through driver's ed!   

Secretary: Rachel Wheeler  *Brushes her teeth with habanero peppers to get her going in the morning.

Math and Sleep

It's 1:22 a.m. and I should be in bed, but I hate going to bed. It means disturbing dreams and having to find motivation in the morning. I'm still looking for it, but it's proving to be an elusive bugger.

I got a job.

I'm a part time office assistant working for a man who works from home who sells ink cartridges for a fraction of the price (here is his site, WholesaleToners.com . He's getting a new one and I'm helping with a new logo.)

I've had it for a week but didn't really want to tell anyone until I made sure I actually had the job. (Remember this story?). So of course I feel super blessed, and the guy I work for is really great.

One of my favorite teachers/people of all time, Caryn Esplin, invited me to go to Photoshop World with her and some students this September in Vegas. This was my reply to her:

Sis Esplin,

Photoshop world, huh? Do you realize what happened by you just mentioning the mere fact that I should go hang out in Vegas with one of my favorite people (you, not an Elvis impersonator) at a convention that is the equivalent of Hogwarts for a wizard? This is what happened:

1. I got really excited.

2. Then I did a little mathematical equation in my head.

     If a+b=c, then (a)me going to photoshop world + (b)you also being there = (c)me wanting to purchase CS5, more lenses, an external flash and a bodaciously big beautiful Mac. But we can't forget theorem e.

     Theorem e states that "if one has been graduated from college for over a year and finally just got a part time job as an office assistant making $8 dollars an hour all the while trying to pay off student debts, then this person has little money."

     We can then safely assume that a multiplied by c divided by b and squared by theorem e equals the the exponential circumference of an elephant's trunk.

     I think what the math book was trying to say is, "Man, I wish it could somehow all add up to a logical explanation and that theorem e wasn't a variable. We can only hope that *theorem x might become a variable of this hair brained equation." 

    *Note: Theorem X states that one with little money is miraculously granted a large sum of money due to a leprechaun, a really big raise or a scholarship for having tendencies to fall asleep everywhere."

3. I'm still trying to recover from the mathematical equation I did in my head.

But you know what? I'll think about it. And pray for Theorem X. 

And that's life in a pineapple shell right now.

I've Got the Magic

Wands don't kill death eaters. Guns do.




And for you Hannah fans out there; sorry to have to show you, Hannah is actually a demon that is possessing Miley.

Just How Lost?

My sister is trying to get into a summer school P.E. program and my mom told her she needed her school transcripts.

Sister: "I thought I gave you the transcripts."
Mom: "No...you never did."
Sister: "Ugh! I hate keeping track of things. Why didn't you ask me for them last week when they were newly lost instead of today when they're really lost?"

Falling For You

Last night, I turned on my lap top and it was struggling something awful. It would not start up, but had error programs running endlessly. To no one in particular I exclaimed in utter frustration "what happened to you?"

My sister then came over and said "Uh, you're going to be really mad at me."
Me: "Why, what happened?"
Her: "Well, I kind of dropped it. But it didn't fall very far. Just from the couch to the floor [hardwood floor I might add]."
Me: "Seriously?"
My mom: "Why didn't you tell anyone?"
Her: "Well I'm telling you now. Besides, when it happened, only dad was home, and I obviously didn't want to tell him."

I ran diagnostic computer junk for like an hour before giving up. At least it made it to three years.

Two Things

1. My cousin just got a boyfriend via online dating.
2. I got made Relief Society President last Sunday.

1+2= The unsaid rule that now I'm RSP I need to get engaged, and the online dating thing just worked for my cousin (well she hasn't been reported a missing person yet anyway), so I once again browsed the online dating services without signing up or filling out all the questionaires (despite my occupation, see post below). I do this once every 8 or so months. I don't know if this makes me feel better or worse about myself.

However, I may have to send a flirt to the guy with no picture and whose summary only said "I am black." Perhaps I'll send him a message that says "I am white. Ebony and Ivory lived in harmony, I think we could too."