We've all heard of bobble heads, well up here in the Burg there are some people who are bubble heads. The reason why they are called this is because they live in a bubble. Or they did before they came up; and it really irks them when someone tries to pop their bubble. Example (and this is a true story):
A girl goes over to a guys' apartment. She then preceedes to take off her shoes, then puts her bare feet on the coffee table (but no coffee, that's just what it's called). One of the roommates then says "I'm feeling very uncomfortable right now. I'm pretty sure that it's against the honor code for people to take off their shoes in the presence of the opposite sex." His roommates assure him that it is not against the honor code, but this bubble head is adament that this girl is breaking the rules and agains states his feelings of outisde-the-bubble-queasiness.
Now I've heard that it is against the law in China for a man to see his neighbor's wife with bare feet (and heck, that could have been 100 years ago, for all I know). And there are some interesting honor code rules that we abide by here on this campus. And some interesting laws in Rexburg (it is against the law to throw snowballs. Really? We live on the island of misfit cold and all fun has to be frozen away?). But. There is no such rule here at BYUI, or Rexburg, that says you can't show your feet to the opposite sex. I suppose that if your intentions include breaking the law of chastity that you shouldn't even take off your shoes. It may be your only link to reality. And unshaved legs.
So to all the bubble heads out there- good luck in life. I hope you never have to meet with a client from China during winter without a snowball.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Caution to Prude Readers
I realized that Sept is soon departing, and I figured that if I want to beat my June record of 13 blogs I better get my butt into gear. So this post fufills many purposes. One of which may or may not be the fact that I'm avoiding homework.
Tonight was the Relief Society General Broadcast. I was exhausted (thinking I may have Rexburg flu- strand known as HE11...partially joking). Are we putting two and two together? I decided to watch it from my own apartment, because I usually do better at paying attention that way (75% of my battle is lost when the church finds it necessary to turn off the lights in many of their venues). I barely heard the first opening choir number. It was touch and go from there.
As most of you know, I proceeded to make comments; sometimes slightly aware of what I was saying, other times not at all.The following story may be somewhat offensive, just remember I cannot be held accountable for what happens when I'm sleeping. Like buying milk (whole other story). And it was told to me by my roommate, who could have been making it up. But I sadly doubt it.
The second to last speaker, Sis Thompson ( I think that's her name- I was asleep, remember?) was apparently talking about how she was still single and had never been married. And right there from the comfort of my apartment living room I told her out loud in my sleep deprived state... "no testicles."
Yes, you read that right. I just put it in smaller text to lessen the damage it may have on your pysche. What did I mean of this? I have no idea. My roommate said she almost peed her pants. Yes, folks, I don't get embarrassed too easily, but I must say I'm embarrassed. Or maybe more ashamed then embarrassed. Please don't judge me.
Tonight was the Relief Society General Broadcast. I was exhausted (thinking I may have Rexburg flu- strand known as HE11...partially joking). Are we putting two and two together? I decided to watch it from my own apartment, because I usually do better at paying attention that way (75% of my battle is lost when the church finds it necessary to turn off the lights in many of their venues). I barely heard the first opening choir number. It was touch and go from there.
As most of you know, I proceeded to make comments; sometimes slightly aware of what I was saying, other times not at all.The following story may be somewhat offensive, just remember I cannot be held accountable for what happens when I'm sleeping. Like buying milk (whole other story). And it was told to me by my roommate, who could have been making it up. But I sadly doubt it.
The second to last speaker, Sis Thompson ( I think that's her name- I was asleep, remember?) was apparently talking about how she was still single and had never been married. And right there from the comfort of my apartment living room I told her out loud in my sleep deprived state... "no testicles."
Yes, you read that right. I just put it in smaller text to lessen the damage it may have on your pysche. What did I mean of this? I have no idea. My roommate said she almost peed her pants. Yes, folks, I don't get embarrassed too easily, but I must say I'm embarrassed. Or maybe more ashamed then embarrassed. Please don't judge me.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Sunday, September 20, 2009
This Title is Really Small
Dear Elissa Gator,
I have been with my roommates for exactly one and a half weeks. I thought we got along okay, but then they went and short sheeted my bed. Can we say rude? I was so mad. Touching my stuff, getting all over the place where I slumber- seriously, who does that? And you know what they did? Just laughed. And laughed. Now I'm somewhat paranoid and keep remaking my bed for fear of them having messed something up. Can you publicly let them know how wrong it is to do something that mean? -Shorter Sheets Sally
Sheet Face,
I hear your pain. Actually, no I don't. I just wanted you for a second to feel like the cosmos cared about your pathetic problem. Let me get this straight- your roommates loved you so much that they went and pulled a harmless prank on you as a form of bonding and you in turn rejected their form of love language? Do you even understand the language of love? It's supposedly Latin. But Latin is dead. Don't let your friendship die because you aren't able to translate. I've spent many years studying love languages. The most important thing that I learned from my time with the monks of south LA is that sometimes when you least expect it... love happens. Or in your case you get short sheeted. But don't ever expect Jennifer Anniston or Aaron Eckhart to short sheet you (not even if you're least expecting it). What I'm trying to say is, maybe you should try sleeping in a short sheeted bed before you judge someone. You're welcome.
I have been with my roommates for exactly one and a half weeks. I thought we got along okay, but then they went and short sheeted my bed. Can we say rude? I was so mad. Touching my stuff, getting all over the place where I slumber- seriously, who does that? And you know what they did? Just laughed. And laughed. Now I'm somewhat paranoid and keep remaking my bed for fear of them having messed something up. Can you publicly let them know how wrong it is to do something that mean? -Shorter Sheets Sally
Sheet Face,
I hear your pain. Actually, no I don't. I just wanted you for a second to feel like the cosmos cared about your pathetic problem. Let me get this straight- your roommates loved you so much that they went and pulled a harmless prank on you as a form of bonding and you in turn rejected their form of love language? Do you even understand the language of love? It's supposedly Latin. But Latin is dead. Don't let your friendship die because you aren't able to translate. I've spent many years studying love languages. The most important thing that I learned from my time with the monks of south LA is that sometimes when you least expect it... love happens. Or in your case you get short sheeted. But don't ever expect Jennifer Anniston or Aaron Eckhart to short sheet you (not even if you're least expecting it). What I'm trying to say is, maybe you should try sleeping in a short sheeted bed before you judge someone. You're welcome.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Wait For It
Dear Elissa Gator,
I really like this girl. She sits in front of me in my class. I love smelling her hair. I love when she turns around to see what time it is and I get a chance to see her smile. I love hearing her answer questions. I think she just may be the one, but I'm kind of a shy guy. What am I supposed to do? Remember, I really like her and don't want to mess this up. -Lovestruck Larry
Lars,
Great. You like a girl. Here's what you need to do: nothing. You sound like you have stalker potential. Don't get me wrong, I don't think you're a stalker (okay, so I'm being nice), but the whole "I love putting my nostril near her scalp to smell a shampoo that I could just as easily buy-" it just has creepy written all over it. Do society a favor and ask out a girl that you find unattractive, repulsive even. I'm serious. You'll then have an easier time not obessing over her; you won't be on Facebook 24:7 seeing what new quiz she's taken; you'll for sure never stand outside her window waiting for a glimpse of her; and finally you'll never get that eyes glazed over look that is so unfortunate when people think they've found "love". When you propose to this hideous girl because that's the only way she'll stop stalking you, you can send me a wedding announcement. You're welcome.
I really like this girl. She sits in front of me in my class. I love smelling her hair. I love when she turns around to see what time it is and I get a chance to see her smile. I love hearing her answer questions. I think she just may be the one, but I'm kind of a shy guy. What am I supposed to do? Remember, I really like her and don't want to mess this up. -Lovestruck Larry
Lars,
Great. You like a girl. Here's what you need to do: nothing. You sound like you have stalker potential. Don't get me wrong, I don't think you're a stalker (okay, so I'm being nice), but the whole "I love putting my nostril near her scalp to smell a shampoo that I could just as easily buy-" it just has creepy written all over it. Do society a favor and ask out a girl that you find unattractive, repulsive even. I'm serious. You'll then have an easier time not obessing over her; you won't be on Facebook 24:7 seeing what new quiz she's taken; you'll for sure never stand outside her window waiting for a glimpse of her; and finally you'll never get that eyes glazed over look that is so unfortunate when people think they've found "love". When you propose to this hideous girl because that's the only way she'll stop stalking you, you can send me a wedding announcement. You're welcome.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Awkward...
And you thought your 6th grade photo was bad:
http://awkwardfamilyphotos.com/2009/08/page/10/
This website will give you a good laugh when you most need it. Or when you don't need it, but really, who doesn't need a good laugh at any given time?
On a side note- sorry to those of you who have tried to comment. It has been brought to my attention that my blog is being dumb. (No surprise there). It does make me feel good to know that I haven't been forgotten. I'm working on the problems. It's possible I'll just make a new blog, but of course I'll let you know if that happens.
http://awkwardfamilyphotos.com/2009/08/page/10/
On a side note- sorry to those of you who have tried to comment. It has been brought to my attention that my blog is being dumb. (No surprise there). It does make me feel good to know that I haven't been forgotten. I'm working on the problems. It's possible I'll just make a new blog, but of course I'll let you know if that happens.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
More Advice
Dear ElissaGator,
Sometimes, I hate this one person. I mean really hate. I know we shouldn't hate, but it seems like there should be an exception to the rule. Is there such an exception? Have you ever hated someone? -Hateful Hiedi
Hater,
Every so often a letter comes along that I have to agree with. There is an exception to the rule. That exception is that you can hate arm pits. Think about it, besides connecting your arm to your chest, what other redeeming qualities do they have? If you're a girl, you have to shave them. And just like how the cat came back the very next day, so does pit hair. If you're a boy, they're just micro storage bins for sweat and who knows what else.
They smell, they produce awful amounts of foul body fluid, and who looks good with their arms raised over their head showing the world the arm wasteland? Okay, maybe Michelle Obama, but we're obviously not going to reach her status. And when you're in a forsaken place with one gas station and one bathroom stall that has more profiles than eHarmony, what do you call it? The pits. I'm glad I was able to help. Now I have to go earn money for laser hair removal.
Sometimes, I hate this one person. I mean really hate. I know we shouldn't hate, but it seems like there should be an exception to the rule. Is there such an exception? Have you ever hated someone? -Hateful Hiedi
Hater,
Every so often a letter comes along that I have to agree with. There is an exception to the rule. That exception is that you can hate arm pits. Think about it, besides connecting your arm to your chest, what other redeeming qualities do they have? If you're a girl, you have to shave them. And just like how the cat came back the very next day, so does pit hair. If you're a boy, they're just micro storage bins for sweat and who knows what else.
They smell, they produce awful amounts of foul body fluid, and who looks good with their arms raised over their head showing the world the arm wasteland? Okay, maybe Michelle Obama, but we're obviously not going to reach her status. And when you're in a forsaken place with one gas station and one bathroom stall that has more profiles than eHarmony, what do you call it? The pits. I'm glad I was able to help. Now I have to go earn money for laser hair removal.
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