Me aT 1 Am tHis moRniNg

I am not an emotional girl. Occasionally though, like every woman, I get emotional over the silliest things and last night I got emotional. I started crying completely out of the blue. Poor Rachel just listened to my woe's of life and comforted me.

I don't like it when friend boys start liking you and become crazy awkward to be around because they refuse to even look at you.

I don't appreciate kinda liking someone and not knowing what to do when they like you back.

In congruence to my first dislike, I don't like wanting a friend who is just not that into you. Despite your heart being one of the strongest muscles in the body, I can't take hearing my mom telling me he is just not that into me one more time. The truth hurts so badly sometimes.

I am not crazy about the holidays this year. They take away my close friends to all ends of the Continental US leaving me stuck in P-town with snow and lots of time. .

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Straight No Chaser

If you have yet to purchase Straight No Chaser's newest Christmas CD called Christmas Cheer, you are seriously missing out. This quality a cappella group will blow your wool socks and cashmere sweaters off. I love them.

Funny Man Beer

I visited some relatives last night and although the good times keep comin with that lot, I could not help but think back to the time when I lived with the funniest man roaming the face of the earth- if you guessed Mr. Beer, you get an 'A' in history.

I mean, look at the picture dudes. What is there not to love.

Mr. Beer is oh so funny. The man can lay on a blanket in the middle of an Escandido park with homeless bums roaming around taking food from complete teenage strangers and STILL pop off seeming useless history trivia. Not bad in my book.

Shout out to the Beer! Keep it up old man:)

Your faithful fan,

Furry

I love my hair short.

Reasons for short hair

1. I like it

2. Shorter shower time

3. Use less shampoo

4. Tend to style more when short

5. Boys don't like it... woops! Did I just type that:)

6. I cannot think of another reason other than I just kinda want to wack it all off!

I wanted to share a rather funny facebook post between some friends and I... it made me cry from laughing so hard- join in the fun!

Sarah Anderson: (note to Pookie)

Woman! I have a funny story for you… Once upon a time (aka yesterday around 8:15 in the pm) Sarah was told by an intramural ref that her shorts were too short. Sarah adamantly denied the accusation and quickly pointed out that said chica had approved three other female players with the SAME EXACT shorts on to play. Chica stumbled over the few words in vocabulary and mustered up the following excuse“I get to have the last say and they don’t hit your leg where I think they should.” Could it be- chica- that the shorts really are BYU approved, but that my legs take up ¾ of my body so it looks a wee bit different?????! Discrimination comes in all forms. I almost tore her head off her scrawny, white, pathetic looking body. Stay tune!Read More

Scruffy McScruff: (comments on my note)

this one time: they made me go home and shave. so i did. i raced home, shaved, and raced back. i went back to the same chick and she said i missed a spot, and made me go home and shave again. and this was before i even had to shave in all reality. i think that's why i hate shaving forever now. but i also learned that the intramural dudes cared a lot less as to whether you shaved or not. next time, i suggest checking into the game with a dude - doubt he'll mind sexy short shorts. hhEEeeeEEEy girl hhHHheeEEEEyYYy!!

Pookie: (comments after Scruffy's note)

I am peeing my pants right now. No seriously. One time whilst playing flag football, there was a girl on the other team who thought she was more of a pro athlete than an intramural college student. She was playing unnecesarily rough against me and I decided to let her know I was no sissy. The evil sinister villain came out in me and the next play I decided whethere she had the ball or not, I would "think" she did and grab her flags/ britches and pants her. Humiliation was my weapon to get her off my back. The ball flew and I yanked hard and her one pant leg ripped entirely off fom about 4 inches below the crotch on down exposing her white ninjas for all to see. Everyone was concerned over her underwear debacle. I giggled manically at the snafu. O'doyle Rules!

I feel that every story should have a take-away lesson (aka tal)...

TAL from intramural conversation-
1. An intramural ref must possess one or all of the above - power trip, sucks at the actual sport and feels the need to be connected in some way or another, has no life and hungers for social interaction.

2. I love my friends:)

By tomorrow, I have to write/prepare a 50 minute lesson for mission prep and I realized this morning that I have a finance test that I have to take. Surely you could guess that I have neither started the lesson outline nor cracked a book for studying. My studious nature ran away the moment I graduated High School.

I'm sitting at our ridiculously small dining table fooling around with my music. Rayray and I had just had a giggle about my aggressive appetite for junk food. The moment my mind knows it needs to study, it thinks it can avoid the chore by dreaming of pumpkin cookies, or better-than-sex cake, or some other devilish treat. Tricky huh?!

I skim over Whitney. Whit and I go way back. At the tender age of six, she capture a part of my heart that she still holds oh so tightly! I Will Always Love You- the best song in the entire world.

Whenever this song came on in the car, I would make my best friend's mom crank it up so I could sing. Kate tried to get a note in here or there, but for the most part, my seriously quick "shut it" yelps would do the trick. I could imagine myself on a grand stage, wearing a fat diamond necklace and shimmery evening gown belting out this song.

It was that bad.

Naturally, I couldn't pass my song without listening. click... a moment later, the exquisite voice of Mrs. Houston floods the kitchen.

My phone was the only potentially decent amp in sight. I grabbed it. I performed. Years of Whitney worshiping has left me with a mean lip syncing skill.

Somehow you can put on the best show in you for the imaginary audience, but the moment Rachel and her video camera sneak out of their hiding spot, you instantly become conscious of the fat zit on your chin, the crack in your voice, and the sloppy hair.

I can't believe she got that on film.

Yucky sickness- BEGONE!

Picture this-

• sore throat- need I say more?
• mean cough... the type that causes you to lean forward every time you hack because you fear you will choke on your innards as they progressively inch their way up the abdomen
• aches- I've always considered myself to have a mean pain tolerance level. I think I'm seriously losing it! I look like the Hunchback of Notre Dome
• runny and stuffy nose... why can't I just have one? The 'crane just hit my face' feeling caused by a stuffy nose should be plenty. Noooooooooo! My lovely body feels the need to leave me helplessly miserable with both Niagara Falls and the hit in the face. Cool.
• lethargy- do not take your sleep for granted! As of late, I've been careless and my immune system is screaming for copious amounts of sleep and a Vitamin C overdose.

Did I mention that I love the rain?

Well, I do.

We caught Jerry!!!

Just the other night, at a hometown football game, my wife and I... woooohaaaaa!

Sorry bout that sisters and brothers! I'm just jammin to the love of my life- Garth. You might know him, but then again, for all you youngsters (who am I kidding! ignoramuses don't read this blog... only the cool people do:)), you might not. If that is your sad reality, google the man.

Back to the reason why I'm typing!

Just the other night, maybe it was two nights ago now, my roomies and I caught Jerry!

Tom and Jerry - the children's cartoon about grumpy ole' Tom cat trying to catch the cute, yet mischievous, Jerry mouse? Ring a bell folks?

I loved this cartoon like something fierce. Oh man! Wooz could not peal me away from the television set when Tom and Jerry were on, even if her lovely life depended on it. I can recall many a time when she would actually show respect for this love affair and instead of giving me a spank (this is back in the day when you were considered a good parent if you spanked- now, you can be incarcerated for child abuse! Love this country) she would nestle her hinny in the lay-z-boy chair and watch with me. What a cool mom huh!

Anyway, Jerry was my hero. Somehow, he always escaped the tricky kitty. Jerry mouse was cunning, clever, and fast. He was a survivor. That's respectable in a world of gutless men and fake, needy, women .

Well, as mentioned about, Jerry was too quick for just Rayray and Yes- but not for the 3 of us:)

Yeah man! This is a true recollection. Trust.

Jerry was oh-so brave to climb under Yessy's door and prevent her from leaving her own room. I think the odds were in Yes' favor if the two had to duel, but her fright froze her stiff! With, of course, the exception when she called Rachel and told her that a mouse ran under her door.

If she had called me, I would have stayed in bed and laughed. Ray, on the other hand, is so nice, that she woke ME to come participate in catching the little bugger.

After countless hours (totally not exaggerating), a few phone calls to family members who had to deal with these furry creatures on their mission, and several sweat drops later, we caught him!

That little devil Jerry looked so gosh darn cute in the garbage can. Pathetically enough, as I gazed on him with compassion in my heart, I could only think how grateful I am for my height. Heavenly Father just knew that I could never survive as a short specimen.

Luckily, it was an unheavenly hour when we left the house to take Jerry to his new home in the field nearby because I was bra-less, and booty shortin it in a cotton shirt with Uggs. Talk about exposed!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I learned a few things:
1. Never let girls scream together
2. Clean crap out from under your bed; you never know when a mouse will make camp
3. Start a ropes course asap; it helps with agility and speed
4. Appreciate the tender mercies God gives- they can come in very weird ways
5. Keep an air soft gun in the closet, just in case Jerry comes back!

Tuna Laundry?

Imagine this-

Sarah standing in the hallway folding a towel as white as snow and Downy soft to the touch.

Rachel sitting at Sarah's desk playing with her compy.

Sarah takes the towel to her nose. She inhales the scent.

S: Why does my laundry smell like Tuna?

With a gusto of a laugh, Rachel busts and leans over to grab her abdomen as she tries to catch her breath.

R: Sarah! Jessica is making Tuna!

Sarah grins and replaces the baffled look.

S: Oh! I was wondering what happened!

Story of my LIFE.

Should I give up or should I just keep on chasing pavements; even if it leads nowhere?

The words of Adele put the most difficult question so beautifully; is he/she the right one? Am I wasting my time? Is this lust or love?

We’ve all thought about it at one time or another in our life… especially those of the LDS faith- the knowledge of eternal marriage and families has a lot to do with wanting to make the right decision.

I assure you, I am in no way ready to leap to the marriage-talk lily pad at the moment. No one in my life. But, that doesn’t mean there won’t ever be someone who makes my thoughts incoherent, someone who can calm my nerves and arouse them all at the same time, someone who I think I love.

I have had crushes. Crushes are the most wonderful thing in the whole, wide world. If you tire of getting the largest grin your face muscles permit as you see that special someone, then go see a therapist. Trust me on this one.

It amazes me that for as long as literature has been around, a crush seems as natural and essential to the human soul as breathing is for the body. We can’t live without it.

Why would we want to?

Adele tells us why. When your crush doesn’t like you back, you feel emotions that you thought were purely fictional. Sad, but true.

Somehow, your beauty melts away like the Wicked Witch of the west, and you have this sticker permanently plastered on your forehead that reads, ‘ I’m a desperate loser, stay away!’ Your hair never looks good enough and you smell like you just got out of the hot puts up Rock Canyon.

This might be an exaggeration, just a wee bit, but you know what I mean- it just plain stinks.

So what’s the moral of the story? I find it interesting that a crush is the most wonderful thing when the dude/gal likes you back, but it also can evoke pain- that emotion we all strive to suppress like a plague.

Like everything good in life, crushes are a double-edged sword. Do not be affair to get hurt. Nothing will happen if you don’t take the first step. This I can testify of.

Here is the deal friends

For the past few weeks I’ve been noticing the mannerisms of people- the male gender to be more specific.

Disclaimer: I love men. What would I do without them? I, quite literally, would not exist without the XY chromosome. Need I profess my undying love more?

Why do white men think that they can act black??????

This is not politically correct. Do not harass me for my thoughts. I can’t stand that either.

Let me step up on my soap box for a moment. (Wait… there we go. I just did a twenty minute butt burning workout on the stair climber. I’m moving a little slow. )

Whilst watching the BYU vs. ? game, this white dude totally started acting like a brotha. I have a cousin that they call ‘black Kyle’ so as to distinguish him from his previous roommate, Kyle. He acts black. Somehow he can pull it off. I not sure if it is the Raider gear, or his demeanor. K- Mo has it going on.

Dude watching football is doing it all wrong. He has his cap tilted to the side. The cap is not slanted downward, hence it looks like he got a little close to the wall and forgot it was there when he turned.

Let’s move onto his slang. I can only think of one movie to describe the scene: Rush Hour. YES! You know when Jackie Chan tries to act like a Chris Tucker? Yeah, well, you’d think that a white guy could mimic a brotha a bit better than an Asian man, whose first language is Chinese. The unfortunate truth is a big, fat, juicy no. He stinks, to put it politely.

Some men try and some men fail. The ones who accept their failures, promise never to do a repeat, and ask forgiveness from friends are keepers. We shall see if ‘Dude’ is a keeper.

This is such a stupid blog. I understand, but I don’t care.

I’m giggling and smiling. Pass it on!

Blogs have always been one of the most intimidating things to me. The dreaded first entry has been weighing on my mind the moment one of my professors assigned this activity.

What can you say in a first entry to convince the world that you’re high on life and not feeling down in the dumps? Overly emotional people drive me crazy! For this very reason I’ve avoided the keyboard. I’m feeling like an emotional woman- not a very fond feeling if I do say so myself.

This past week I’ve be re-acclimating to a place that I’ve called home for the past two years. Most college students never refer to their school housing, whether it is an apartment or house, as ‘home’. Seriously! I’m convinced it’s taboo to say, “I’m just going home to get a few things.” People automatically think you’re from Provo or Orem if you let such a phrase slip.

Let the record be set straight- I AM FROM CALIFORNIA- not Utah, not Texas, and definitely not Canada. For pete sakes people! I’m a born and raised US citizen…and I like it that way.

‘Home’ is a word that has more meaning to me than it does for most of the twenty year old population. I had my home taken from me when I was 18. My home was one of contention. It was one where you could still find refuge after a stressful day at school and always count on freshly baked cookie. Part of the reason I bake so gosh darn much is due to that longing for a home that no longer exists.

I can hear my mother’s heart break every time we get on this subject. My new home is good; far better than adequate in fact, but memories can’t be made at the drop of a hat and my stash lies buried within the foundation of Bennett Valley.

My ‘home’ history is disclosed purely because I want you all to know that you can find another home. Who says you can’t have more than one? As one door closes, another opens and MAN, the most amazing family opened their San Diego door to me for the past two months.

The Moores

I wish every one on the planet could conceive and partake of the amount of pure joy this family possess. When I think of a Utopian society, I think of every family being like the Moores. If it were so, world hunger would be solved because of the open pantry rule. No one would feel like a bench warmer in life because, as stated in the family motto, which is recited once a week, every week, they are a team. They are a bunch of seemingly common people that have obtained uncommon goals because of each others support and love.

The Moore patriarch, Pat, has become a surrogate father for me. Whether he likes to admit it or not, the man is freaking awesome. As a child, I considered him a rather intimidating figure. Unlike my father, he is slow to anger in a heated situation, and never likes to be the center of attention. Uncle Pat’s style is very chill. He is unnervingly calm in almost every setting. The only time I can recall him being even remotely fired up, if that is what we must call it, in the two months I lived there was when he was watching Genn Beck on TV, or when he talks about the Book of Mormon. His passion for this country and the principles it was built on surpasses none, but his testimony of the Book of Mormon is so firm that I can honestly say he has a sure knowledge. Uncle Pat is a supreme example of a husband, father, and servant of the Lord.

Lady D (Dyanna) is a mother. I would never use such a powerful title to describe a women unless she deserves it. Walks with Dy were too therapeutic. I die softly everyone morning I wake to find that I don’t have the hour or so with a most loving, caring, and powerful woman. It was in those not-so-quiet moments of huffing and puffing (yes… we would get our walk on, and we would do it right!) that I felt closer to her and in an odd way, to my own mother.

Dy has reminded me that thinking of others is an attribute that belongs to a superior woman, a daughter of God, and consequently allows bliss on earth. She opens up her home to all who need the healing power it provides. She opened up her home to me! That fact alone promotes her to sainthood in the life after- I am convinced.

For lack of time, I can’t adequately describe my feelings for Beer, Ky, Brinda, and Sawanna, so I won’t. That will have to be a later entry. Rest assured, their entries will reflect the amount of joy they brought into my life.

I love this family. I love what they have done for me. I love what they do for others. And, I especially love that they are all each other has and they act that way.

4ever Moore friends…4ever Moore