sometimes to help me sleep I make up recipes in my head....mostly of brownies

So, confession. You mean besiiiides the one she just put up there as her blog title? Srsly. SRSLY. 

Once upon a time I lived in Rexburg and I had a cruuush on dis boy. And I was trying to be real creative in getting this boy to like me too, and maybe possibly perhaps before the world ended, ask me out on a date. Specifically, on a date to the taco bus, because I couldn't think of another place I wanted to go in Rexburg (still can't).

One night before bed, my bff/roommate Chelsea B. had a suggestion. She was wearing her thinking cap, or as I like to call it,

the birth control shower cap

behold (and it wasn't as "cute" as this one, yo)

hence the name.

So she was wearing this shower cap and said to me, very matter-of-factly,

"Heyyy I have an idea!" This is about where it all went downhill (my pride and dignity). But stay with me, kids. The juicy bits are coming.

She suggested that we have a bake-off, and whoever lost had to wear the BCS Cap (I just realized what that looks like and it has nothing to do with college football, nothing) to the grocery store. The grocery store that other people go to.

What other kind of grocery store issss there? Does she mean, like, 7-11?

Okay. So obviously I agreed to this because I was conceited about my baking skillz (#idaydreamaboutbrownies) and I also saw this as a way to make my crush a judge in this bake-off, while simultaneously getting him to like me because BROWNIES. Ya dig?

So, one fine day, after science class, I was walking past the Taylor building (the one that looks like stairs)

(visual aid)

and I just so happened to spot my crush! Ha. HAHA. All of you who know anything about Rexburg and liking another human will know that I did not "just so happen to spot" him there, because I had figured out that he would be there at the precise time I left my science class, and so, I planned it. DUH. The lives of my future children were at stake (or so I thought).

I pretended not to see him (still playin' games at the tender age of 20, ew) and of course he saw me, and ran to catch up to me, and I was like "Oh hellllooo there, so-and-so, I didn't even SEEE you!"

What a fool. I really want to salmon-slap myself in this scene of my life. Just get me a DeLorean so I can go back to this one moment, and deliver a wet fish to my left cheek. KTHXBye.

So we small-talked and eventually I got out the words "brownies" and "bake-off" and "will you be a judge" and what boy doesn't want free brownies....?? So he said yes, and scampered off to class, and I floated home on a cloud, completely oblivious to the humiliation that awaited me in the too-soon future.

The things girls do for boys who don't even care. I mean. Really.

The day of reckoning came (a.k.a. Sunday. How appropriate!). I made these brownies that were...okay, so I purposely chose them because 95% of the internet had claimed they were the best brownies ever. Here's the recipe, yo. And yeah, they were dang good.

But Chelsea, that sly fox. Chelsea made coconut dream bars, and wouldn't you know it, but the bishop's FAVORITE FOOD IS COCONUT. Like, why. I feel like there was some kind of secret agreement there, but okay, I'm not gonna be a poor sport four years later. Seriously. Be more Christlike, McKenzie.

So we took our treats to the waiting area because my crush was there, and so was half of the elders quorum, and the bishop, and they all partook, and the votes were tallied. Oh, and so there wasn't any bias, we didn't tell anyone whose treat was whose. But I sort of blew it when Bishop said, "oooh coconut is my favorite!" and I blurted out, "CHelsEA you CHEATED!"

....

Subtlety isn't my thing, yo.

So, my crush-meister knew the brownies were mine, and therefore he declared, with his eyes rolled back into his head, mind you, "THESE ARE THE BEST BROWNIES IN THE HISTORY OF BROWNIES."

Swoon.

Well, so, the votes were cast aaaand it was a tie. A bloody tie. I skipped home even though it was snowing (those of you who were with me this past Monday night know that skipping isn't something I should participate in, esPECIALLY in the snow, but I was feeling super optimistic on this particular evening back in 2010). I skipped and skipped and didn't even tripped. #poet

We got home and there was a guy in our apartment visiting one of our roommates. There were some leftovers of our goodies on the counter, and he was helping himself to them. This was a regular thing, actually. Boys would come over and just start eating out of our fridge like it wasn't no thang.

Flashback to my first semester, fall 2008. Our FHE brother came over, and without a single word, opened the refrigerator door and started rifling through our foodstuffs. RIFLING. I tell you, if I have ever been close to murdering someone in my lyfe, it was probably...well, okay, I've never been close to murdering anyone (gosh, how famous is this blog now? heh. heheh....????) but I DIGRESS. He was EAting our FOOD without even asking.

So, this same boy was doing the same thing, but with our treats, and at this point I was so blissful that I didn't even care. Until he said, with his mouth stuffed full of diabetes, "mmmm, yeah, these coconut bars....yeaaaassss...."

My eyes got wide and I shook my head and I said "no no no, try the brownies! The brownies!" Chelsea got this look of jubilation and triumph on her face like nothing I'd ever seen. It was like:

meanwhile, I was all:

He said "No. These. Coconut. Bars." And, well, the tie was broken. My fate was set in stone. I was going to have to wear the birth control shower cap to the grocery store. I mean, oh well, right? Who needs eternal marriage anyway?

Also, I made the horrid mistake of telling my crush about this terror the next night in the library. I mean, he was part of it, right? It was all supposed to make him like me, and then I told him about wearing the shower cap to the grocery store. Is it any wonder I was single? He actually thought it was pretty funny, albeit a little weird, and so I took that as further encouragement. And maybe hope.

A few days after the bake-off went down, Chelsea announced to me, rather abruptly I might add, that she "needed" to go grocery shopping. Oh H no. I tried to make up some excuse about how I "wasn't eating" and "didn't really need groceries" and "food is for babies" and bla bla bla but she saw through my transparent excuses. I dragged my feet to her car, the shower cap dangling from my fingers.

It felt just like this:

(replace dat ring with a shower cap because it was 12:30 am when I wrote this and who has time to photoshop at 12:30 am)

Well, we got to the parking lot of Broulim's (I know those of you who have never lived in Rexburg won't know how to pronounce that. It's okay. #notjudgingyou). Immediately Chelsea ordered me to put the shower cap on. I said "Don't be hasty now!" We hadn't even gotten into the store yet. But she was anxious for the humiliation show to begin.

I had stupidly told my crush-manster not to go the grocery store that day because of what was going to go down. He kindly asked me what time exactly, so he would know what time to tell the news reporters, and his grandmother's sister, and maybe CNN. What a gem. I told him to avoid it "around 5pm." WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ME. 

When I re-read this story later in life I'm gonna choke on my Marshamallow Mateys. For sure that is happening because I was 100% a doofus and 100% not ready to be marriaged.  I'm cringing just reading it now.

"Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for not letting me contribute to the human gene pool at this time in my life when I wore shower caps to the grocery store and didn't even keep that a secret from my potential love interests. Amen."

#gratitude

Welp, we got inside and I placed the shower cap on mah head, hands trembling, but my face ready to stare down anyone who gave me the hairy eyeball. Turns out, not that many people cared. But the ones who did notice, well, they noticed. Like, their eyes did not stop following me for a good 20 seconds. I was like, "Hellooo, never seen a shower cap before? There's some on aisle 5!" Just kidding. I said nothing. It was all part of the ruse. I was supposed to act like it was normal.

I slowly and painfully picked out some apples and other produce and other groceries, and tried reallllly hard not to bust up laughing. It was probably the hardest thing I have ever done.

Lit'rally. 

Eventually we got to the checkout. Chelsea had no problem controlling her laughter. In fact, she was stifling it the whole time, and not really trying to, and laughing at me, which I'm sure caused more people to be like "What the deviled eggs is happeninnnng here, like what kind of torture is this" and then I had to face the checkout lady. She stared at me for probably the longest of anybody in the store.

Her eyes kept going from my shower cap to my face, shower cap, face, shower cap, faaaaace. She finally said, "So, hooow are you today?"

Immediately my brain sent a signal to my mouth to say "Feeling very clean, thanks."

But I didn't, because that would have blown my cover. Instead I said something boring. "Fiine, fine, thanks. It's debit."

She looked like she was about to laugh, which would've caused me to throw the cap into the air like I was graduating high school all over again, and start cackling hysterically, and run out of the store with my bags hitting my legs furiously, buuuut. I had to finish what I started.

So I calmly took my stuff, and got out of there. Chels and me laughed all the way to her car. And I wore the shower cap all the way home, where I put another nail in the coffin and let Chelsea take my picture. 

In the end, I told my crushfriend that in order to see this awful picture, he had to do something drastic, like, uhh, take me on a date to the taco bus. Of course he agreed because this picture was gold--straight from the humiliation leprechaun's rainbow. What did I just say?

Obviously things did not work out with that boy. But me and the taco bus are still on great terms.

peace and blessins'

2013 is almost over. Weird. Because I vividly remember the beginning of 2013, and geesh, it wasn't really 365 days ago, was it? Srsly. This year was what I would call a great big, 365-day-long growing pain. f'realz. Ouch. Many scars on this girl right here. But it was all worth it. Of course.

Heavenly Father knows what He's doing. 

This year I....

*started to blahg again and found out the internet still likes my insanity

*worked 3 different jobs. yes, three.  tres. mucho. that's a lot. but each one had its purpose in that whole growing thang.

*discovered BEN HOWARD

*made lots of new best frands, who I seriously can't believe I lived this long without! what the heck! well thanks 2013, for all these people. I lub them.

*hiked Timp finally (awesome, but ew. but awesome.)

*got my endowments 

*went to californiaaaaaaa

*took the dadgum GRE, POR FIN

*ate way too many tacos (wait that's not even possible)

*ran the Dirty Dash. next up: half marathon (??????!?!!?!?!?)

*learned how to longboard. bought a longboard. wondered if I really did know how to longboard. got some more scars from longboarding

*moved out of parents' house to Provo

*saw lots of family members and friends get married. aww yeah.

*went to lots of bang-a-rangin' concerts

I've been listening to this song on heavy rotation lately. The words are puhfect for how I feel right now:

And I've come to be untroubled in my seeking.
And I've come to see that nothing is for naught.
I've come to reach out blind
To reach forward and behind
For the more I seek the more I'm sought
Yeah, the more I seek the more I'm sought.

Hey 2014, I'm ready for you. Come at me.

tales of Christmas past

CHRITMAS CHRITMAS! I was talking to my amigo the other day and spelled the word wrong because I Was SO esccxciTED. Sooo much excite. Much wow. Very presents.

When my broski and I were younger, we would get really into it, like all the kids everywhere in the whole universe of time and space do.

Fiiirst of all, our Grandpa Alan would take us to Toys R Us (I dunno how to make the "R" go backwards, guys, deal with it) and we would have our reams of paper, I'm talking like SCROLLS, and we'd go to town. Isaac would go to the video game aisle and write down errythang he wanted. Which was basically the whole aisle. And I'd go to...well I'd go to the Barbie aisle (duh), the art supplies aisle, the As-Seen-on-TV aisle (because of the sand play-doh, remember?!), the puzzles aisle, the basically-everything-except-the-video-game-aisle-with-the-exception-of-Pokemon. I'd end up with about 150 things on my list. Wish I was exaggerating. So then I would choose my "favorites," and would narrow it down to 140 things. I mean.

ChritMaS.

Another great tradition our familia had whilst I was a youngun was doing "Secret Santa" for a family every year. One year will stand out in my mind forever. I bet you're expecting a sentimental story, but I don't think I can pull one off after leaving that gif up there...

I have plenty of sentimental Christmas stories. Don't worry. But they will be saved for another post on another person's blog.

So it was nighttime, riiight? We had to do our Christmas-present-leaving in the dark of night, because #stealth. Also it was foggy like it usually is in Oregon in the wintertime, so it was perffect for playing ninja. But we weren't there to play ninja! Focus, McFrenzy. We were leaving presents. So we had to drop them off on the people's porch perfectly (yeah alliteration!!!), AND ring the doorbell, AND run away..??!! Ha! Can you just imagine the excitement and terror simultaneously building up inside my child heart?! It was insane in the membrane, yo. Luckily I was not appointed as the doorbell-ringer that year. I usually had a panic attack when it was my turn (I wasn't a teenager yet and so I didn't know how to doorbell ditch yet because I didn't know how to waste my time on the weekends yet). So the task fell to Isaac. Isaac, who wore socks with his slip-on athletic sandals.

Behold:

Do you see where this is going? Straight to you-know-where (#notAustralia)

So my parents were in the getaway car (or as I like to call it, the minivan). Isaac and I finished putting everything on the porch, and I started to run as fast as my midget legs would carry me, not thinking of my poor brother and the duty he had to do. I remember looking back and kind of seeing his face and I think I was trying to be sympathetic but instead I did a little somethin-somethin like:

ChrITmas.

He shrugged, rang the gong, and busted a move. I mean like lit'rally, started running, but the poor dude didn't get very far because of those socks+athletic sandals. It all happened in slow-mo. I saw his foot catch, and slip right out of those sandals, and then his gangly white body just went flying. It soared. Majestic.

Well, as you can imagine, I started to really panic then because he was completely flat on their lawn, just groaning or something, and he had just rung their doorbell so they could've come out at any moment and seen a gangly white boy on their lawn, and it definitely wasn't sun-tanning weather sooo what explanation was there???? 

"Um hai I was just...taking a walk..on Christmas Eve...and your lawn looked comfy." HA. Well we were all frozen in time as we waited for Isaac to get up, which he did in the nick of time, and joined me behind our hiding place bush, and Christmas was saved.

Whenever I think of that story to myself I just....

And last but not least, there's the Nativity. Every year it gets crazier and more ridiculous, instead of reverent and relaxing. Here's a gem from last year. Please read it. The photos just make it more glorious.

GUYS. Have a Merry Christmas! I'll probably blog again before my next birfday. Oh gash that's in 2 weeks HElp.

p.s. how many gifs is too many? also how many of you almost-swore when you scrolled down and saw this?

single and ready to eat pringles

(at least Facebook let me change my cover photo...)

So Facebook wouldn't quit asking me to change my relationship status. I tried to say "In a Relationship With Mexican Food" but I guess I'm not facebook friends with Mexican Food and so it wouldn't count it. So then I changed it to "soltera" (which is Spanish for single and yeah, my FB is in Spanish, what of it). And Facebook said "This won't show up on your profile."

Well gee, thanks. I guess it's only cool to have your relationship status be on your profile if you're in one. What is this nonsense?!

For the record, if I was in a relationship, I wouldn't put it on Facebook, cuz that stuff is between me and my Mexican food. Ya feel me?

Anywayz. A lot of people offer to set me up. 9 times out of 10 they don't ask if I'm seeing anyone first. They just say, "Have I got a guy for you..." And then I pretend like I have to go use the bathroom or something. I'm like, having a bladder emergency. And I bolt. And then I don't even have to change the subject because I ran away from it! #mature

I don't know what it is about me that makes people want to hook me up to their best friends, but hey guys, I can do it. I think. I know you mean well and everything, but I just wanna find whoever it is by myself. I know what I want (mostly) and he lives in Great Britain and he's kind of preoccupied with his music and surfing right now but as soon as he reads this blog post I bet he'll catch the next red eye to Utah. Waaait for it.

When I went to BYU of the Idaho, I was constantly bombarded with the m-word, which is cool. I support it. I support marriage! Yes! I think it's awesome. But there was a lot of pressure on us chickens to find a rooster (what?) and those roosters weren't into asking girls out. I was too busy with studying to care, but sometimes I did. Sometimes I'd stop and be like "Hey! How come I'm not married yet and all of my friends are? Do I study too much?" To answer Past Kenzie's question, yes, you studied too much, but that's not the point.

The point is, you'll find it. You shouldn't settle. But you'll get there! I think in LDS culture we worry too much about finding the perfect person at the perfect time. And the thing is, it's gonna happen eventually. It really will. As long as you do your thing and do what Heavenly Father tells you to do, and show up where you're supposed to show up, things will work out. I've stopped worrying about it because a) I no longer live in Rexburg, the place where diamond store advertisements go to make war on single women and b) I decided worrying was pointless.

If it makes you feel any better, you're not the only one that gets desperate sometimes. Today I was driving to Orem and I looked over at the guy next to me. He had the same car air freshener that I did. I actually thought, "Hey, we have the same air freshener. We have something in common...hey maybe I should try to make eye contact with him!"

Yeah. That happened.

wassup, wassup, my back hurts 'n stuff

?????????????

word to whoever made this: I dunno what kind of realtor you are but stop making creepy images on the internet. Sincerely, Me. 

Rachel. RB Money Bags. This one. Is. For You.

So it was a Friday night (I think. Actually maybe this was yesterday, which was Saturday. Two hours naps are NO joke you guys). Rachie was snappin' me some chats and kindly requested that I blog something funny for her. So I'm gonna do something I don't do very often. My best.

Once upon a time my computer got horchata spilled on it (not by me...I bet you thought I was drinking horchata in bed. False.). Now whenever it feels like it (which is a lot), the screen goes into crazy mode and chops everything up into little pieces, and starts scrolling forever. It's really entertaining and makes me laugh, while simultaneously making me want to dropkick my computer.

A brief list of other things I want to dropkick:

• Girl razors. Who invented these? They're worthless. I'd rather use a serrated knife. Wait. No. But I do use men's razors. Does anyone feel uncomfortable yet? PUHFECT. I'm doing my job.
• The pain in my back which will not cease and desist and I'm all like "BACK PAIN I WAS SAVING YOU FOR OLD AGE AND I'M SORRY BUT 23 IS NOT 'OLD AGE' PLEASE GO BACK IN YOUR NEANDERTHAL CAVE AND HIDE UNTIL I'M READY FOR YOU KBYE!!!"
• Slushy driving conditions. Okay, so you've all heard enough about the weather because of facebook because I'm sorry but nobody needs the Weather Channel or even the weather app on their phones as long as we have facebook. But okay, I love the snow and how it turns everything white and pretty and also how it makes everything quiet. But then I'm supposed to DRive IN It?! Ha. HaAH. You should've seen me the other day trying to stop at a stoplight. I was at least 100 feet away and already pumpin my breaks, pumpin 'em loud (Black Eyed Peas reference, EW). I came to the realization (in slow-mo) that I wasn't going to be able to stop for the red light. Nope. Nope nope nope. So I just half-closed my eyes and braced myself for what was about to come, and my car was sliding and sliding and I was like "just pretend you're in Cool Runnings and you're Jamaican" and then my car stopped, about 5 feet after the stop line but SRSLY. Who prayed for me that day? 
• The song "Santa Baby." This clip sums it up perfectly. PERF-ly. 
• The awkward look that a certain guy gave me while I was drivin' past him on the freeway the other day. Okay, so yeah, making eye contact with people while driving is #1, Unsafe, and #2, Uncomfortable. So why do we do it? Why do people drink Sunny D when orange juice exists? Anyway, I looked over at him because he'd been tailgating me and then sped over to the next lane, so I was going to give him a good Muppet face and he just looked over at me and WInked?! I was like "Ummmm nooooooo no you did NOt." And then he sped off. What is it with people  men and winking at me? Why am I cursed? *you can ask me about this in person but yeah, it's a REAL curse, circa 2010.
• The bottom of a chip bag. It's so depressing. You know how on webpages there's infinite scroll? Well someone should invent that, but for bags of chips. 
• Dis book. Dis book and I have a love/hate relationship. I actually did dropkick it once, because I got to a certain part and it made me gasp and then came the dropkick and then I was all "What in the world! Why do people climb Mt. Everest? Who thought this was a good plan?! The same person that invented those packs of gum with only 6 pieces of gum in them apparently!" Wait, no that can't be accurate because the 6-gum packs came way after people were climbing Everest....well ANYway I just...gosh! This book gives me nightmares but I can't stop reading it. Someone take it away from me. Kbye.

it's 2013, people. What a world. 

on a scale from fake pockets to nachos, how good is this idea?

So, remember that funk I was talking about? I'm trying to think of some solutions before I lose my dadgum mind. I'm probably gonna lose it. Because. I'm. An. Introvert. And I hold everything inside of me until it becomes Mt. St. Helens, post-May-1980. Ya feel me?

Here's a list of things I've tried out/I'm going to try out in order to pull myself together. Because I'm an unfinished jigsaw puzzle right now and I need to figure out where my missing pieces fit.

• marry a bus-driver who will drive us a bus to a foreign country, in which we convert said bus into a restaurant on wheelz. Then live inside the bus? Maybe that's too extreme. Well at least we'd never have to go out for dinner...
• go to a movie and then stay in the theater for the rest of my life. I probably wouldn't miss very much. Except for maybe other foods besides popcorn and giant pickles. Dang. Now I want a giant pickle.
• move to Alaska and stargaze for the rest of eternity (hey, it's the only place besides Scandinavia that's dark a lot...I'd move there, too, if it was closer). Also, I could try buffalo jerky! Yum! But also, there's mountain men in Alaska with facial hair, amiriiiight?
• invent something as cool as the french fry, make a jillion dollars, and move to Machu Picchu. Actually, I don't think I could live at that altitude for my whole life, so I'd just visit, and then move to Agribah. Yeah, that fictional place in Aladdin. 
• become a unicorn

So far, these are stellar ideas. Don't you think? Okay, here's some real life goals:

• run a race next summah (half-marathon, no joking around this time. but when I get to mile 12 I'll probably be thinking "Is this a joke?")
• chop my hair
• buy a new bike and ride it more than I drive my car (tricky, but super hippie, so I could probably maybe swing it...except for there's that black ice thing...hmmm)
• sleep more

#sendhelp

(an accurate depiction of how I feel. me= the girl. escalator =lyfe)

I identify with raccoons because I'm cute but I belong in the garbage

a depiction of moi before I drank some horchata. here I am after. horchata. important. 

It's been a Monday. I had to put a few songs on heavy rotation just to get through this day. This one in particular, man. Sidenote: why do all my favortiest bands come from Seattle and/or Great Britain? What is the phenomenon here? Expect a ruminating blog post on this in the near future.

In the past week I've been having the most bizarre dreams. I mean, normally I have weird ones, but these ones have made me wake up in the middle of the night, which never happens. You guys. I don't even get up to the use bathroom. Trent, if you're reading this, I bet you thought I just admitted to peeing the bed every night. But those days are over (because they never even began). What I mean to say is that my REM cycle is heavier than a circus elephant (???) and I don't wake up for anything. Not even earthquakes! #Mexicoreference However, this week, my dreams have been off-the-chain-insane, which is usually a sign that something is amiss in real life.

The problem is, I can't figure out what's missing. Usually when this happens, I just find something new to occupy my time. I set a new goal for mah-self. But there's something about this funk that I can't shake. HaLP. Sign up for a half-marathon (gulp)? Go back to Mexico? Go live in Mexico?

/end of nonsense transmission.

So I bought these corduroy pants a couple of weeks ago, and ever since I have noticed that upon wearing them, I instantly make new friends. Because of my pants. People go "Are those corduroys?" I say "Yeeaaah...." and then they hi-five me, or ask if they can touch my leg. Usually I just let them hi-five me. Except for that one exception I made for a boy, because even though I'd just met him, I felt comfortable enough to let him touch my leg. And thus a friendship was born.

It has taken me about three hours of on-and-off writing to complete this post. I had to stop after the first paragraph and take a drive, which just so happened to go past Beto's, and I said to myself, "Self, it's December, and you could literally live inside a Vampire Weekend song, and post it on the internet so people will think you're cool." Actually, none of those reasons mattered to me because horchata.

I'm pretty interested in sleeping and not waking up in the middle of the night because of weird nightmares and thinking a spider is crawling on my face when really it's just a piece of lint.

bye, here's a picture of a goat on a skateboard

he was a skater goat, he said see you later goat

okay I'm done. prOMise. 

all my bloggy readers: but is she really???