*me at the OBGYN* "You know what this place needs? Some honky-tonk country music!!!!!"

Yes, it's what it sounds like.

I was on the table in the "gown" (loose definition for the cloth they make you wear), and suddenly, over the speakers I heard this:

🎵and crack was somethin' you did before you made a joke, and a hoe was just a garden tooooooooool🎵

Suddenly, my grandma was in there with me, telling me about the old days while I got a pap smear.

It wasn't awesome.

And yeah, I just said "pap smear" on my blog. The end is (probably) nigh.

and now a photo essay to punctuate this strange day:

on my way to the OB/GYN, I found this gem. I feel like he's asking for help.

flavor with with other natural flavors

"The poison for Kusco. Kusco's poison. The poison chosen to kill Kusco."

some clouds tinged in peach

to bae or not to bae

On second thought, I think everyone should stop saying "bae" now. There are so many better ways to refer to your beloved: My Crispy Potato Chip, Swedish Trish (this only works if your significant other is named Trish), "Bless Your Beautiful Hide/Hyde" (this is a play on that song from Seven Brides for Seven Brothers), and lastly, "Did You Take out the Garbage Yet." Such romantic, very affection.

Houston wants to be a prominent figure in society someday and that's why I keep publishing the things he says. 

Houston after 10pm

Can we name our son Just In Me? Then when he runs for president he can say "trust in me..JUST in me." 

"Behold thy SPOUSE" (with arms outstretched)

Okayyy I'm gonna go brush brush brush brush my teeeeefers

What do you call the knight who wants to free all the slaves?

Sir Emancalot

Eddie Bauer is so much better than Eddie Redmayne

(At the mall, music is playing) Do you think the telesrial kingdom will be just like this but without Sweet Home Alabama playing?

Let's make out until we both have gout 

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

I'm gonna make a movie called Parent Trap but it will be about catching parents in bear traps. 

Lots of things are your fault. And lots of things are your birth control's fault.

Tots need ketchup like North Korea needs Netflix.

I wanna get stamps that just say "tramp" on them.

This is called a muggle snuggle cuz there's no magic involved.

*talking in his sleep at an Airbnb*

"Wait, is that an eyeball in the corner?! What are you doing here?"

I wish I could fall asleep to the smell of ham every night. 

Did you know that when Elder Bednar got married in the temple he changed his name tag to say Elder Wednar

I had a dream my poodle got turned into King Kong and shot down from the tower (I lost it when he said this one)

I just named your butt George W Tush!

...And now you're being President Daft.

Me: What's that from?

H: Not every thing is a quote! [pause] And not everything is a quilt.

Me: what are you getting your family for Christmas?

H: a big bucket of steak sauce. I'll call it "mistake sauce." And then with an envelope and card I'll say "atonement." See, it'll be a religious gift. 

Me: only you could make a bucket of steak sauce religious.  

“I sent my DNA results in and I’m one third Son of Perdition”

M: “Apple changed the notes font! Better than the stupid Helvetica.”

H “What the Helvetica!” 

M: “China once had a traffic jam that lasted three days and three nights.”

H: “I think that was after Christ’s death...”

Sometimes I talk to my ex girlfriends. We ex-communicate. 

Did you know that people with download syndrome have one extra google chrome a some? 

m: She has gonohrrea 

H: Where did she go? 

m: Are we getting a movie for Chase?

H: No actually he wants a teenage geisha this year 

*watching Planet Earth*

me: the DAD birds get the food?

h: the mom birds want to watch desperate housewives.

m: desperate houseBIRDS

h: desperate birdhouses

(it was late at night, I am sorry)

Dr. Google is Free and STupid

art by Hiller Goodspeed

I worry too much about healthcare billz (re: that headline I've seen a million times that says "Why Aren't Millennials _____ [insert very expensive life choice here]??).

So sometimes I put off going to the doctor...for...an unhealthy amount of time. In 2012, I had gallbladder attacks for a solid week until my mother forced me to go to the hospital where, when asked my pain scale from 1-10, I answered "12" with some drool running down my face.

NEAT NEAT NEAT

On Sunday night I noticed a weird dent on my forehead. And when I pushed down on it, there was definitely a groove. And when I released pressure, the skin bounced back. So of course I immediately checked myself in to the WebMd Waiting Room (also known as hell).

We know this. We know that the internet giving us medical advice provides the same amount of comfort that Hitler had in the Spring of 1945. We know, but we still click the search button.

I went to bed pretty sure I was dying. The next day I remembered I had smacked my head really hard on a shelf in our kitchen. Oh yeah.

I am not entirely convinced that the head-smacking was completely harmless. At work, I was typing the phrase "high impact" over and over, and it started to wear on my brain:

I might just leave it there.

of candy wrappers and super moons

We drove up the canyon for a few miles. We probably didn't need our headlights, the moon was so bright. It turned the mountains an iridescent green. We talked about President Monson, who died the night before, and the burden about to be placed on Russell M. Nelson. But ya know, that guy has so much energy, you'd hardly know he was older.

You ate cold McDonald's fries. I scratched an itch on my leg, the same itch in the same spot that's always there, and there's no bump or rash to accompany it. So maybe I'm just imagining things.

And now, a photo essay of the candy wrapper trail I found in the living room that led from the candy jar to your feet. You said, "I think I was rage-eating them."

Sorry the lighting sucks cuz we live in a basement with hardly any natural light, and it's winter, and I don't have fancy camera equipment. I am not a true Utah blogger, so I guess I have to turn in my VASA membership and Roolee coat now. 

he was definitely rage eating, because otherwise those strawberry candies never would've gotten eaten

notice the other tell-tale signs of our living here: a ginger ale can, Kleenex, a conservative magazine, Smiths' rewards card, Micron pens, and a gadget Houston bought on the Oregon Coast

this blurry shot will probably be considered modern art someday

and last but not least, THE WALL. Much more ominous than the Berlin Wall, it stands in our living room, separating us from sophisticated 20-somethings whose parents bought them a brand new house with white walls and mid-century modern furniture.... and just ordinary newlyweds tryn'a make it through school and mediocre desk jobs.

I've been told to enjoy this time and for once I am doing what I'm told. It's nice to be ordinary. It's nice to not have all this brand new *stuff* to worry about. To just be. And if a drive up the canyon while eating cold fries is considered a date, it's one of the most memorable I've ever had.

this walk made possible by wool socks

My journaling took a sad turn in 2017. Uh, and 2016. Before grad school, I was a very diligent record-keeper. Which is a little regrettable now since I wrote in painstaking detail about every little injustice life dealt to me (getting your period on Christmas is unfortunate, but not really apocalyptic, sorry for the tear stains on the pages, and no I'm not joking about those).

So in an attempt to resurrect my memories I am leaving my mark here. I am more motivated to write when I don't care who's reading. That's the freedom of not giving a CARP about what anyone thinks of you (except your mom, hi mom!).

The other day I was waiting for the bus after work when I decided to just walk home (wow, that sentence was a ride!). It was above 30 degrees and my phone's battery was fully charged, so.

By the end of the walk I was getting choked up at the beautiful sunset. I had realized once again how small and insignificant I am in this big universe, but how little that matters to a God that loves me.

i want the internet to stop

It's 2018, and almost everything I want for myself is the same. There's just one thing I want, but can't control.

I want the internet to stop.

I restarted (re-signed up? What is a good word for this?) a Twitter account because I was bored at my library job. I know that every good story has to have some element of tension or it won’t last, it won’t hold up. And nothing on the internet is inspiring me anymore because it's lost its tension for me, unless it’s old poems someone that’s already dead has written and left behind. Or old photographs. Things that are no longer with us. The present offerings are too weak to sustain me. Consuming time on the internet is the equivalent of Quaker Rice Cakes. I don’t care if you think the chocolate chip ones are good. They’re just rice bits puffed with air and a side of chocolate air.

Last time I had Twitter, it was 2015 and I was gettin' a little tired of every single tweet making fun of another person or their lifestyle, all for the sake of likes. Like, can you get a new hobby? Would you say that kind of crud to the person if they were standing in front of you? Probably not. The worst are people re-tweeting quotes about kindness and then in the next tweet they're posting a picture of a blogger they hate and commenting on how much they hate it and AH

RICE CAKES, I TELL YOU.

This is not to say that I'm any better at this than those I'm calling out. I've probably rolled my eyes at 75% of every Instagram/Facebook post that's come across my way, but it's starting to have an effect on me. And maybe it doesn't bother anyone else and THAT IS COOL good for you, but I have become familiar with that twisty snake feeling in my stomach that says "You could be doing something better with your life."

Because how you spend your time is how you spend your life.

And so I'm gonna write on this dang blog even if nobody reads it. I'm going to stop comparing myself to every silly post I see on the internet and I'm going to take more walks to remind myself that what internet strangers think of me is utterly pointless.

maybe adele should've thought about texting instead

Why is that the title of this blog post?

Because the first thing I was going to type was hello. And then it started. Y'know, when your brain just snaps to attention like a dog watching a laser or a ball or...yeah, anyway, it's like that, but you have no clue how your brain could be that fast.

Do you ever smell a certain smell and then all of a sudden you're buried under an avalanche of emotions? Because that smell is actually the exact same smell of your kindergarten classroom? Yeah. Me neither.

So what I'm SAYING is, Adele, you should think about texting your past lovers instead of calling them, because it's awkward anyway to call someone who's married and tell them you're still in love with them. His family could be listening.

Wow, wut the heck is this post so far?

I was reading on one of those dumb internet forums where people (mostly women) complain about other bloggers and their "perfect" lives (*choking noises*). And somebody had posted that they REALLY hated how much this blogger loved her husband. She was like "Uh, yeEAH, my sister told me to never read a newlywed's blog--not until they've been married 5+ years and reality starts to set in."

Huh???????????????????

First of all, if you honestly have time to write on a forum about how much you hate someone else's relationship because it's affectionate, then...maybe you should get a relationship. Even if it's with yo'self. Like, get some love in yo life, girl! If THIS is what we're complaining about, then I think I'm going to just give up. I want the internet to stop.

Secondly, if you don't like reading someone's blog...DON'T READ IT OKAY GOODBYE I SOLVED YOUR PROBLEM.

Hmmm, what else can I rant about?!

How about the number of accidents I have had since working in the library.

Accident #1: I was wearing a sort-of-long skirt (past my knees? is that long? well, if you're 5'2 it is). And I was running up some stairs. And my skirt kinda...got caught underneath me. And I tripped on it while simultaneously yanking it down off my hips. And there was a guy standing there, doing the whole *reaching out arms helpelessly unsure if I should help SOS* gesture, and I just waved him away, like "Yes...you did see that...but no....do not help me...because then other people will look down and see me laying here in my garments."

COOL.

Accident #2: I was filling up my water bottle at the "water bottle filling station." It's like a fancy spout attached to the drinking fountain so you don't have to tilt your water bottle, basically. Anywho, I was using it, and a line started to form behind me, so I started to feel stressed, and did not put the cap back on my bottle as I turned away from the fountain. And guess what, there's a wall next to the fountain, and I ran straight into it, splooshing water up into my face and hair. Again, I waved at everyone as if on parade and ran to a class I was teaching...hair still dripping.

I shall now end this blog post with a list, and then I'll have run the gamut of all the different types of things I blog about (all three things: ranting, embarrassing moments, and lists).

things I have realized recently:

1. It's okay to love fall, but not okay to talk about loving fall (on the internet), because then you are unoriginal. However, talk about any other season and people won't bat an eye. Another example of the internet ruining things that are perfectly a-okay fine. GO AHEAD, LOVE THINGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 
2. I really like watching videos of people eating hot wings/spicy peppers. Preferably in some kind of contest. Why do I like this? 
3. I think Instagram has killed blogging. You know, the normal kind of blogging that used to be popular before we replaced it with "long captions." Not fashion blogging or sponsored posts, but REAL stuff. I miss that. I'm going to try and write more even if nobody reads it but me.
4. Part of growing old is having weird chin hairs. That's right, chin hairs. I use a little razor to get them off (get this, the razors are called "Tinkle Razors"), and I've decided if this is all that getting old entails, I can handle it. I can adapt. I can buy Tinkle Razors. 
5. I am going to have a runny nose for the next 8 months. 
6. God gave me Houston because his body temperature is 20 degrees more than mine, therefore he is a human heater. It's those little things.

whatta guy