*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

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

what is "blogging"?

replace "leather shop" with "intimate wedding and elopement photographer" and "Arizona" with "Utah"

Guys.

GUYS IT'S ME.

*shakes your shirt collar dramatically*

How many of you are wondering if I used those asterisks-thoughts in my thesis? Well, well, well.
I. Didn't.

I hardly remember how to do this anymore. What do I say? What do you guys wanna know? Who are you? Isn't blogging dead now (thanks Instagram, thanks for the....for nothing)? ??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

One of these days an entire blog post of mine is just gonna be question marks and that's it.

Uh, so I guess updates? I don't have a fancy camera and I'm not a videographer and I don't wear the fancy hats and I guess that's what validates a blog nowadays but I'll probably never have/be those things, at least not as long as this blog exists, so bear with me.

Speaking of "bear with me," I've seen it spelled a bit differently in my time grading papers these past two years. Yes. Bare with me. That sounds like an invitation to get naked. No thank you.

Other unfortunate misspellings:

I would of spelled this correctly if I knew how. I really would of done that if I could of but I can't of.

And then people become out ragged.

Yeah, I get out ragged when you can't spell things, too.

Teachers shouldnt give students so much homework becuz the students get tired and then don't get anything dun. Which is bad for their health. 

Totally agree with you, buddy.

Recently I went to the doctor for a follow-up what I thought was a follow-up. But it wasn't, because as soon as she walked in, her eyes pointed to the robe. And she was like "When I come back in here you need to be wearing just that."

"Sorry. I can't. I'm allergic to nudity."

When I was 11, I got my period for the first time (you all know that story). My mom was good at comforting me (for the most part), but there was one line forever burned into my brain back then, and it came back to haunt me as I sat on the exam table:

"Oh McKenzie. I'm excited for you to experience the Stirrup Phase of your life." Girl, you know she said "excited" with that twinge of sarcasm and regret for having given me the extra x chromosome. Wait. That wasn't her fault. #science

The Stirrup Phase is the name of a book we'll be co-authoring in a few years, give or take (however long it takes me to become mature, so, could be ages from now).

I cannot write all the things she said at this appointment because this is...on the internet and I can't overshare everything but let's just say if Betty White + Professor McGonagall were one person, that person would...definitely not be an OBGYN but, if she were, she would be my doctor.

Dear Diary,
My first blog post in months was a roaring success. 

embarrassing

Every gosh dang time I say "embarrassing" (out loud and in my head), I say it in the Ew Sara voice. How embarrassing. More embarrassing: it took me five tries to spell embarrassing correctly.

About a month ago, I was in the middle of a lecture (lolz, that sounds like a fancy version of what I was actually doing, which is tripping over my sentences/chewing on the end of my dry-erase marker while I called on students whose eyes were slowly betraying them like "helllpppp when does this class end").

ANYhow, I'm standing up there and all of a sudden the door opens, but not without some struggle. You see, this door is a little bit rickety because it's in the Engineering Lab (yes, my English class is in the Engineering Lab....whatever). This particular building has no windows because they want everyone at USU to easily identify engineering majors by their pale complexions and inability to make eye contact with anyone I guess. I don't even K. So anyhow, the hinges of this door probably haven't been serviced since 1973 and the kid on the other end (whoever he was) just could not get it open. I knew it wasn't any of my students cuz they were all accounted for (ha, it sounds like I'm taking roll after a natural disaster) (the natural disaster was my lecture) (ha ha ha, get it).

So in the middle of me talking, this door is just rattling and the guy on the other side is trying to get in but he just can't handle the door, and my students are now totally distracted by the door getting pushed open a little then closed again, then opened a little, then closed, then op

And I'm still talking to pretend like I don't know what's going on but let's be real I really wanted to see if this guy was going to make it through the door. The suspense was killing me.

Other things killing me in this moment:

• a guy trying to open a door was more interesting to my students than my lecture
• a guy trying to open a door was more interesting to me than my lecture

So finally after what seems like ten years he opens the door with a loud screech and it kinda swings open all dramatic and hits the wall on the other side like in mobster movies (uhhh citation please??). He stands there for another 5 years (time slows down when you're experiencing a humiliating moment in front of 20+ strangers...trust me. I know. I experience it twice a week). Realizes he's just "opened" (lol that's not the verb describing what he did but I honestly have no idea what it was) the door to a classroom he thought was his...but alas! It's not his class.

His eyes get really big and this awful knowledge starts to spread over his face...like he's suddenly aware of what he's done and he knows it's going to haunt him for years to come. Observe:

♫ Hit me like a freight train, baby ♪

You think the story ends here, and it would if this was a perfect, exalted world, and all the awkwardness was burned out of us by the Holy Ghost. But no. 

He slowly backs out of the classroom, "swinging" the door shut behind him (again, wrong verb, because whatever he did was not as simple or fluid as "swinging," but my words escape me when describing this scene). Unfortunately for him, he doesn't know that the old rubber doorstop fell down when he opened the door. So the door is now stuck.

He can't shut it and he couldn't open it. For him, this is Dante's Seventh Circle. Probably. Now he's yanking the door towards him without noticing the doorstop. All of us are frozen in place, looking down at the ground like, "Come on man, get it together, look down at the doorstop, it's right there, it's blocking the door, please shut the door, oh my gosh I can't take this awkwardness anymore, please can we dismiss class early and stop watching this kid try to close the door that he never meant to open, this is some kind of fresh hell...." I realize these are probably just my thoughts and not my students'. I realize that. 

Finally after much yanking and forehead-sweat-beadlets and buggy eyes and awkward grunts and faces like this from onlookers (me + my students):

...he closed the door. With a loud slam. And then we all exhaled finally and I tried to go on with the lecture but mostly we just fake-laughed to ourselves because what the actual he*k?! I feel for him, I truly do. Which is why I'm sharing his story on the world wide web.

ur in(e) my heart

Who wants to hear an epic tale of total and utter shame? YEAH, ME TOO! Oh, wait, but this is about me. Keep it straight, McKenzie, keep it straight.

I was listening to a podcast the other day and it was about an embarrassing moment this girl had, which was quite similar to a few moments in my own life all revolving around the teetering strength of my bladder. Basically, "teetering strength" means weakness, but it's like reverse psychology because I used the word "strength" to tell you my bladder was weak. There's gotta be a fancy word for what I just did. ........lying?

Liz and I were walking home from school and speaking to each other in an alien language we had made up. Btw, this was in 8th grade. So we're walking and it's probably about 2 miles from the school to our houses (we lived next door to each other like all American Girl doll protégés do). I had ingested a very large amount of water in seventh period, like I always did because I was trying to get away from Jacob Young who was constantly kneeling by my desk and proposing to me. It's not easy being a dead ringer for Felicity (1774). Observe:

What? I'm sure that's what Jacob saw in me. Otherwise, what in the he*k do you think he was doing kneeling by my desk and asking me to quote "bear his children" close quote!!!!??????? Yeah me neither. So anyways, I was constantly leaving math class to "get a drink" cuz it was the only way Mr. Malcolm would let me leave and get away from Jake (of course his name was Jake, of COURSE it was, I couldn't make this crud up if I tried).

And because I am a compulsive water-drinker in awkward situations, but also, unfortunately, irrationally afraid of public bathrooms (except later this irrational fear would become more rational when I took a job cleaning bathrooms at BYU-Idaho, and I don't want to remember all the hair I saw but it was more than whatever's left after the filming of every Hobbit film). ANYHOW, are you getting this? I drank too much water but I also refused to use the bathroom 'til I got home, which was a 2-mile walk, which would be doable except that I was talking with my best friend in an alien language, which had the effect of constricting my bladder even more because I was losing it.

Fig. 1 (Equation 1)
10 gal water - 1 trip to the bathroom =

We were about halfway to our house, in front of the Wilson's (our usual target for TP-ing), when I felt my legs give out a little. That's called k-a-r-m-a, kids. When your legs give out anytime, it's a bad situation. Walking up Old Main Hill on an icy winter day? Standing in front of the entire kindergarten class and a wave of nervousness washes over you? A gigantic ball that's absolutely coming straight for you and you know there's no way you're gonna catch it because you're SEVEN years old but your gym teacher says it's "fun"? Legs give out? Bad. Bladder full? Legs are the only things holding it in?

is NOTHING easy?!!! 

This egg here represents what my bladder was doing.

It was like, this weird journey. First I was all relieved cuz you know it feels good to finally stop holding it in (a metaphor for holding in ur feelings, probably, but I can't go into that right now I'm too busy embarrassing myself), but then this shockwave of shock hit me and I was like "oh shoot sound the alarm," but the words sorta came out like a sneeze like when you're trying not to move very much so as not to blow up.

me: uffds

liz: haha yeah what does that mean? (remember she still thinks we're speaking in tongues)

me: ballder?

liz: what

me: peeeeeeeeeee

liz: *starts reciting her alien alphabet starting with the letter Q*

We walked a little further. Got past our piano teacher's house at which point I was pretty much doing a convoluted version of the "jerk" 

This is when it gets juicy. Wrong word choice, but you know. I can't really care anymore at this point. Liz walked away because she absolutely knew what was going on and didn't want to be a part of it (totally understand now), and I sat down on the sidewalk and just let it happen. By the way, it wasn't raining, which is weird because this was in Oregon, where it rains 80% of the time, so I didn't have a good cover. I just kinda sat on the sidewalk like, "Yeah...just sitting. I love sitting! I was so tired from walking that two miles and since I'm two houses from my house I am going to sit now and just....gosh I love sitting." *Liz slowly backs away*

This would've been a humiliating enough end, but then my mom came around the corner all cheery faced and skipping, coming to fetch the mail, and we had one of those community mailboxes which just so happened to be past where I was sitting.

mom: what are you doing sitting on the sidewalk

me: what? what sidewalk?

mom: uh you sitting in a puddle? (this wasn't a question, but my mother is graceful, so it sounded like one)

me: are you getting the mail? 

mom: yes...? 

me: okay heheh cool well let me know if I get anything *would be literally impossible for me to have mail because I'm an 8th grader, but a girl can dream*

mom: where's Liz?

me: she went home, but I wanted to take a break...from walking (my mom, by now, must know that my physical endurance is totally shot in every way)

mom: are you feeling sick?

me, willing the sun to heat up suddenly and zap the ever-spreading puddle around me: huh?

mom: kay....

me: ...........

mom: ........................

Gee, I thought this would be cathartic but it actually wasn't.

*therapy*

reasons not to ______ (a comprehensive list)

REASONS NOT TO TELL YOUR STUDENTS THAT YOU'VE CRIED RECENTLY:

They'll ask you how you're doing with really concerned looks on their faces the next time they see you on campus.

I just started to hand them copies of this article:

HASHTAG GRAD SCHOOL

REASONS NOT TO PAY IN CASH AT THE GROCERY STORE EVER:

When the cashier is giving you back coins and you're holding your bag at the same time so you try to take the coins but they fall to the ground and the line is backing up and they hand you your receipt at the same time so suddenly there's this paper you've gotta grab onto and you burst into flames and descend into hell.

~*time to update my status*~

REASONS NOT TO OVERANALYZE HOW YOU TEXT:

You start purposely de-capitalizing words or using bad grammar so you don't sound as smart...

that's called pretentious dishevelment, my friends

REASONS NOT TO MAKE YOUR WEDDING INTO A HASHTAG:

Someday those hashtags will become unrealistic. More realistic hashtags:

#HeyDidYouGrabTheMilk

#NoNotCowsMilk

#YouKnowICantEatDairy

#WeHaveBeenMarriedForTenYears

#IAmLactoseIntolerantDangit

#DidYouAtLeastGetBananas

#NOBANANAS?!

#WeNeedToGoToTherapy

REASONS NOT TO STAND IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STAIRS WHILE WALKING DOWN THEM:

Simple. Because other people (me) will try to go around you a million times because you're also the kind of person that walks slowly, and you keep swinging your hips in such a way that makes it impossible for me to pass you because you're RIGHT in the middle of the stairs goshdangit that guy had the most swingy hips and he wouldn't get out of the middle of the stairwell. sigh.

                   

REASONS NOT TO SHAVE IN APRIL:

Because we live in Utah.

AND WHILE I'M ON THE SUBJECT, REASONS NOT TO MAKE YOUR FB STATUS ABOUT THE WEATHER:

Talk about literally any other subject please, even your pyramid scheme parties (I can't believe I said that) because everyONE talks about the weather when it's just being the weather: unpredictable. Yes. Sometimes it snows in the spring because WE LIVE IN UTAH/IDAHO/PLACES WHERE IT REGULARLY SNOWS okay this is all I am never saying more about this again please.

Lizzie McGuire=the weather channel. Facebook be takin' its bidnez.

REASONS NOT TO WALK OUT THE DOOR THAT SOMEBODY IS ENTERING THROUGH

This happened to me the other day when I was walking to class. I opened the door to the building and as I was walking through it, somebody on the other side was like "whoops, just gonna slip in through here, heheh" so I just had to jump out of the way before we grazed each other.

REASONS NOT TO USE YOUR BLOG FOR COMPLAINING ABOUT PETTY THINGS:

There are none.

That's lit'rally what blogs were invented for. And:

On that note, remind me to never do this again.

a girl runs into a guy at a party and you'll never guess what happens next!

He broke his toe.

I got this bruise.



That's what happened. I think we're engaged????

In lieu of a ring he just gave me this bicep-shiner. YEAH A BICEP SHINER IS A THING NOW BE QUIET.

Man, I could never write clickbait articles. I'm so glad I figured this one out early, though. Can you imagine if I went through all this schooling only to resign myself to a life of writing clickbait?

people might as well project this on the wall at every party ever bc that's how I feel when I enter the room

Instead of diving headfirst into the twelve foot pool which is grad school (that sometimes feels like it's three feet deep and you feel like you're concussed when you dive in), I decided to be social this week. As you can see from dat #bicepshiner, it's been going great.

*leans head out window*
*yells loudly to my mom so she'll hear me two hours away*
"MOM! HEY MOM! I'M GETTING RIGHT TO WORK ON THOSE GRANDKIDS, OK?"

Anyway.

this picture makes me wanna go get a burrito.

...maybe I'm just hungry.

I left my car in American Fork until I figure out what to do with it. This was the last time I drove it (hopefully forever). We went up the canyon cuz it's our fave place. Ok mostly mine because yeah my car is definitely an inanimate object. 

MOM IT'S WATER PONG NOT B**R PONG 

See? Houston/Dennis doesn't look drunk at all.

student: hey so I forgot about ___ assignment, can I still turn it in even though it would be late and your syllabus says you don't accept late work?
me:

Well, that's my life. What are you guys up to? Found any good trendy clothing boutiques recently? I've been looking for one all over Utah but I can't seem to find any. So weird. Also, if you happen to find a company that sells wooden sunglasses or peplum swimsuits, hit me up. I can't find those either.

*~over and out~~*

current mood: that vine of the seal playing the saxaphone (look it up)

well.

One fine morning recently (not-so-recently, bc I haven't posted on this in awhile, haha! JOKE'S ON YOU!)...I was laying in bed on my phone trying not to move very much because

a) I was very dizzy (long story)
b) no it's not a long story I was just dizzy, ok?

Anyway, I was sitting there (laying) and then my friend texted me an article all about not being on our cell phones because of obvious reasons we all know about but choose to ignore because we're millennials and we wanna die EARLY I guess, and also it gives us neck-aches. And then I thought, "Gosh, my neck hurts."

-_-

thing that happened on the first day of class:

• I walked into my first classroom and immediately realized the only working piece of technology in the room was a 100-year old heater in the corner, which regularly emits the sound of a pterodactyl getting hit by a bus (I know what that sounds like, trust me). So my students' first impression of me was walking into the room, growling at the heater, and then slamming both hands on the top of it and saying "shhhhhHHHHh." Throughout the class period as the heater got louder, I had to interrupt myself and say "Ok breathe, McKenzie...find your center..." They're all afraid of me. Perfect. 
• Not one but TWO students asked me why the heck couldn't they reuse their old high school papers? SERIOUSLY WHAT. WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT. I put the "flabber" in "flabbergasted."
• Another student asked me what I defined "tardy" as. I was like ??? "after the minute hand leaves the six..." I always feel like they're asking me trick questions when they do that. But nope. Nah. Nope.
• I saw my friend Paden in the hallway and waved vigorously at him, but two English professors were walking in front of me, and as he waved back at me, they waved at him, and then he was like, "What do I do with my hands" and I had to lean against the wall for support cuz I was laughing so hard GOSH I AM TIRED. Feels good to be back at this sleep deprivation thing. I really missed that routine. 

I'm both of these cats somehow.

embarrassing things I did in my youth that still haunt me at night

I am screaming in my flesh trash.

THIS IS HOW IT FEELS WHEN YOU SHOW SOMEONE SOMETHING YOU THINK IS FUNNY AND THEY DONT LAUGH.

being the center of attention is a nightmare.

This comic is me, my entire life, in just a few frames. I love it so much.

I was in the midst of grading papers this afternoon when I remembered something really gross I had once done (when I was--gulp--19). This happens a lot. Something I've tried to repress always comes back to wag its proverbial finger at me and say "HAHA, remember when you were pubescent?!" YES. I REMEMBER. YOU DON'T HAVE TO KEEP BRINGING IT UP, CEREBRUM. LET IT GO.

Maybe if I write these down and let everyone read them, the hauntings will stop. But I really doubt it.

Story #1: 
When I was 19, me and my two breast friends (I am not correcting that because of the context of the story) formed a "Hammocking Club." This means that we walked to a house on 100W in Rexburg which had a hammock hanging in the front yard and used it. All three of us. In a hammock made for one person. One person hammock. Three people. Not a good idea.

One of my old roommates' exes lived there, and he hated us using it. So we continued to do so, duh.

Every night, people (men) would walk past (since it was right by the sidewalk) and we would rate them. We'd do it when they were ten feet away, but still. So embarrassing. And we would even ask them to give us a little push sometimes. Is it any wonder none of us got any dates?

One night we decided to just start yelling things out like we had Tourette's, just to get a reaction. Wanna know what the worst thing we said was? "LACTATE!" I need to go lie down for a few minutes so I can recover from this one.

At the end of that semester, me and Chelsea snuck to this front yard in the middle of the night (ok, it was like 9 o'clock) and snipped a piece of the hammock off for our time capsule. Yikes.

Story #2:
I went through a phase in my 8th year of life fondly known as "Pinch Everybody's Buttocks Phase." PEBP. I don't know, I have to make everything an acronym. It got the point where I would stand in the hallway at church as Relief Society was letting out and just pinch people's bottoms, one after the other. In the confusion, nobody could see who it was (it helped that I was shorter than everyone). Not only was this unsanitary, but it gave me a bad rep. And my mom put a stop to it when I pinched an unsuspecting butt a little too hard. Hers. Rookie mistake, smh.

Story #3
It was Day-Before-Easter-Saturday. I was running around the front yard, high on candy and life, probably swinging from Grandma's trees like a tweaked version of Tarzan. Just imagine a five year old in Minnie Mouse overalls and long braids, missing her front teeth, screaming. My nickname was The Screamin Demon, ok.

I still don't know how this story took the turn that it did. It makes no sense in my mind's eye (which I am wishing I could poke out). But I had to go the bathroom (Weak Bladders ((Not-So)) Anonymous), so I unsnapped those overalls and peed on the neighbor's FENCE. HOW DID I EVEN DO THIS. Anatomically it should be impossible, but I know that the wood stain was a little bit darker after I was done with it, so..??????? Anyway, in the midst of this micturating, my mom came around the corner and saw me. I hurried and snapped up that Minnie Mouse denim and ran into the house, thinking quickly.

I knew my mom would take away my Easter candy as punishment, so what did I do? Well duh! I barricaded my door with my play furniture and started to eat it all. She walked in on me as my mouth was drooling with taffy and Snickers bars. I mean, ew. I didn't even get to enjoy it. All this while my overalls were covered in urine. I deserve at least one demon child for this incident alone. I really do.

this post starts with a cat picture and that's where it should end (but it doesn't)

things not to do when you have jet lag:

1. wake up
2. be awake
3. not sleep
4. not be dreaming
5. not be in a bed
6. not have your eyes closed
7. be alive

Ok, so I'm exaggerating a little. Have you ever laid down in traffic? Have you? Then you know what jet lag feels like.

I can't promise I'll ever be done complaining about it. There are two things that make me very moody indeed, and they are not getting enough sleep and not getting enough food. I struggled with both in Europe but then coming home was like being covered in mayonnaise and then getting hit by a train. Huh? 

Yeah. That metaphor should've been saved for never.

As per Murphy's law, as soon as I arrived home, everything was thrown into a chaotic pit smelling like the Goodwill on River Road, which, if you've never been there (it's in Oregon), it smells like poop. Yes. Feces! I hate saying both of those words so don't expect me to do that again. However, I am still jet-lagged so expect me to say them again.

Yes I am still talking about jet-lag in this post and if you've gotten this far why give up now? C'mon you JERRY-BASTIONS.....that's not the phrase. But you're smart. Figure it out.

Anyway, back to Monday. Monday was the day Murphy's Law paid me a visit. I woke up at 5am after a confusing/terrifying 4 hours of REM-cycling. This is because my nocturnal body clock *I know that's not what it's really called* was trying to do a Tour de France, so to speak, but then the European part of my body clock was like "YOU SHALL NOT SLEEP!" How many of you read that in Ian McKellen's voice? I did. I'm the only one reading this. I know it.

In those four hours of sleep, I managed to have the absolute worst nightmares (animals dying=McKenzie crying--look it up because it's a real nursery rhyme). I never have nightmares, except for when I do, because I'm having trouble sleeping. And so it goes! I then went to work but kept forgetting how to do simple tasks, kept getting up to do something and then completely forgetting what that thing was, and ended up going to the bathroom, whereupon I realized my bladder was empty. So I filled up my water bottle (Water Bottle #1. Water Bottle #2 has since been lost on the tracks of the London Underground) and I must've forgotten to screw the cap on tightly.

After work, I hastily threw everything into my purse and stumbled out the door, bleary-eyed and unsure if I should be driving myself anywhere, except to the nearest mattress store, but goshdANGIT that was kind of far (more than one block when you're jat-lagging=far). I kept imagining my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Bass, with her freakish Dustin Hoffman jawline and incredibly tanned skin (not unlike a jersey cow), saying "Do not color that Mickey Mouse anything but red and black, McKenzie! Dangit!" She didn't say "dangit" but being five years old, it felt like she did, and I cowered in the corner with my yellow and blue markers thinking "?????????" (and crying). And why I thought of her in this moment, I am not sure, but it probably made me lose focus, at which point my water bottle was turned upside down inside my purse, spilling out its contents everywhere.

Everywhere=my wallet, my phone, my spare keys, my lint balls. My phone. My phone. 

So I got home and my phone had this weird wet streak underneath the glass screen kinda like someone had wiped it with a (used) Kleenex, and I shrugged with dead eyes and a deader heart and said "Eh, could be worse." Browsed Instagram for a sec. Tried to send a message to my grandma. Then it died. My phone, not my grandma. Anyway I would never refer to her as "it"! 

Is this blog post over yet?

Oh yeah, so if you're tryn'a talk to me, you can't, and I'm not ignoring you, but just be grateful I can't actually text anyone right now because it would be a lot like this post. Immmmmploding. And I can't show you Europe pictures but if you come over I will probably give you chocolate. Oh, who am I kidding. Just look at Instagram. The chocolate is basically gone now. I refuse to be shamed by this. 

"with a full heart and a fuller bladder I write these words"

^^Actual excerpt from my journal a few days ago. What a wonderful world.

Whitney, this post is for you because you said every time you try to write on your blog, mine distracts you. I feel almost as powerful as the internet in this regard. I thank you.

brief (?????) list of embarrassing garbage that has happened to me in the past 7 days:

1. I was at an intersection and a piece of my car fell off. Yeah, it lit'rally just fell off, but was still hanging on for life with its poor little 30-year-old rubber fingers (it was...a piece of rubber). So I sat there all embarrassed at this piece of rubber flying inconspicuously in the wind, and a semi-attractive guy started to cross the street in front of me (he was a 7.5, in case you were wondering). He was doing the whole stare-at-someone-for-so-long-that-you-have-to-turn-your-head-to-keep-staring-at-them, and since I knew what I looked like that day (#ovaryacting), I figured he was probably staring at the rubber. I was right. Sort of. Because when he had finally crossed the street, he turned back and shout-whispered "I LIKE YOUR CAR!" I should've known he was not staring deeply into my eyes. Also, I was wearing sunglasses. So. 
2. I was on a date and my head was in between two bookshelves (you think I'm making this up, don't you). I don't even know what happened, but I hit my head real hard on the top shelf. Does this story sound familiar? Oh, it doesn't? Because the same thing happened like 8 months ago, except I was bouncing on my bed and hit my head (don't turn this into a rap song, srsly. I know Jay-Z is reading this). And that time I really did get concussed. Both times I had no reaction other than nervous laughter followed by hysterical laughter followed by me thinking "Should I go to the hospital???? Nah." *passes out*
3. i AM CRAVING TORTILLAS SO BAD RIGHT NOW HELP
4. ^^not part of the embarrassing montage, but at least I gave you a guys a break. I hope you took advantage of the five seconds.
5. I was at work and I answered the phone. This is how the conversation went:

me: such-and-such workplace, how can I help you?
person: FISH! FISH!
me: Ummmm???????????? Sorry, what was that?
person: FISH!!! (I wish there was a way to emphasize this word more than just putting it in all caps, because that's how it sounded. MORE THAN ALL CAPS)
person: F-I-S-H, fish.
me: oh, right. yeah. yeah? we have some??? we have fish.
person: TROUT? RAINBOW TROUT?!?!?
me: no. we have these kinds tho *names off three kinds of fish, one fish, two fish, blue fish, etc, jk I didn't say that*
person: WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU SAID?
me: *starts crying*
me: *jk*
person: MILK?! RAW MILK!!!!!
me: yes. we have it. (I was getting real good at conversing with this person)
person: GOATS MILK!!
me: no.
person: *hangs up*

Finally, the fact that my high school mascot was the Caveman was finally useful to me.

6. I dreamt that I was knitting sweaters outside of the bathroom at work. My boss kept walking back to use the bathroom but every time she saw me she would get disgusted and walk away. I wasn't even naked. Just knitting. What's wrong with knitting? Sidenote: I rly wish I had that sweater I was knitting. It was like I was channeling my inner Mrs. Weasley. Do I have such a thing IRL??????

Wow, only six embarrassing moments. That I can remember, anyway.

And now I'm gonna go make tortillas and ride my bike, because it snowed yesterday. Or whatever.

just keepin it rillz at 12 in the AM

bananas should have zippers. they should. trust me.

throwback to two years ago when nothing was different 

and Ellie used my body as a trampoline

I was thinking last night, as I sometimes do, that bananas should really have zippers. Why you ask? Because, you guys. Because. Then we would no longer have to deal with touching the squishy stringy tops of bananas (or bottoms, if you're cray and you peel your bananas upside down and I have met some humans that do this, bless their souls). We wouldn't have to smash them when we peeled them open, like I always manage to do. This, of course, has nothing to do wit the fact that I like my bananas to have green tips and therefore no brown spots and therefore they are sort of hard to open in this state.

THIS IS NOT A METAPHOR OR EVEN A JOKE IT IS SERIOUS.

I should never blog after 10pm.

I moved home like a week ago and since then I have noticed that my little sister is a tad less...teenager-y. She's not quite pubescent yet but I think when I'm around she's slightly more cheerful and I like that. Being the someone that someone shorter/younger looks up to feels really good. Especially when that shorter person lectures you on dating (which she does. every.day.)

"McKenzie, did you ever kiss anybody?"
"Mmmmhmm."
"What! WHO. WHO DID YOU KISS."
"(fill in the blank obvi I'm not naming names, ew)"
"Do mom and dad know?"
*shoulder shrug emoji* *I am too old to be having this convo with my 11-yo-sister*
"Did you have a crush on them?"
"A crush? Well we were dating."
"I know but did you like them?"
"Yes I had a crush on them."
"Good because you can't just be dating you also have to have a crush."
"...."
"I almost had a crush in first grade but then I stopped myself."
*crashes car into ravine*

JK I didn't actually do that but I might as well have. It's hard to drive and laugh/cry at the same time. Also hard to drive, laugh/cry, and see out your window when you haven't gotten a car wash since 2014.

When we got home later and were assembling desserts, Ellie blurted out, "Mom, dad, did you know McKenzie kissed ___?"

Does anybody want whipped cream, orrrrrrrrr

Two thumbs up for kissing and three thumbs up for whipped cream.

gOODNIGHT.

I can still hear that Celine Dion song ringing in my ears....

just so you know what everyone looked like at the time this story took place #tights

Did anyone else call Celine Dion "Celion Dion"? (Suh-LEE-Ahn) It sounds so much better to me. I used to call her that still call her that. It's also fun to use as a swear sometimes.

*stub your toe* "CELION DION!" Nobody will ever know what you're talking about. And that's the beauty of it!

Ok, looking at the name "Celion Dion" this many times in a row is tripping up my vision. I'm not here to talk about her (even though I have successfully done so for the past few sentences, and I honestly never thought I'd be able to accomplish that in my lifetime). I'm here to talk about The Incident At the Stake Dance When I Was 14. No, it does not have to do with my period. An alternate title for it could have been:

**~~I'M SORRY I CANNOT HEAR YOU OVER THE SOUND OF MY PRIDE AND DIGNITY BEING ANNIHILATED WITH YOUR DUMB TEENAGE BOY LASER BEAM EYES~~**

Have you ever had a zit (everyone better nod your head) that was in a very-difficult-to-reach spot, like in the middle of your back for example? And have you been blessed/cursed with very short limbs, so as to disable you from reaching said zit? Well then it bothers you a whole lot and you think about investing in one of those freakishly long bobby pins that isn't good for anything except popping hard to reach zits and picking car locks (the second one is easier to do with a knitting needle, I mean, if you want a real-life experience on picking locks)..? But then you don't, because wasting money on something you'd only use for such a short time is really illogical, is it not (#weddingdresses)? I don't know. The point is (pun intended), this experience I'm about to share is like one of those zits.

I tried to forget about it, and push it to the very back of my mind, into the cave portion, where Gollum might live if he lived inside of someone's hippocampus (and there we have the creepy existential thought of this blog post, you're welcome). Alas, I could not. And so I divulge it with you now, in the hopes that it will then exit my head forever (again, pun intended. I like my puns to be of the intended variety, yo).

Upon walking into this stake dance in the year 2004, the chaperones had set up two baskets, one for girls' names, and one for boys'. Ha. AHAAA yeah haha you think I'm that dumb I'm not gonna put my name into either one of those baskets, no way, no way. The only way my name is going into that basket is if there's a ball pit made of M&Ms through these doors. 

I didn't say that. I said "No. Thanks." And walked into the dance, feeling pretty good about myself for averting a major crisis. The DJ played Cotton Eyed Joe, we all oogled each other uncomfortably across the gym floor, the girls pretended to be thirsty, the guys quizzed the girls for a painful 3 minutes on their favorite color of toothbrush (I wish I was joking), etc, etc. All pretty normal stake dance biznat. Then someone, probably a descendant of Stalin, took the mic and announced that they would be *drumroll plz* pulling boys and girls names out of the baskets, respectively, and pairing us up for a dance.

My short-lived elation got on the Tower of Terror and plummeted into the basement of Regret & Anger as my friend turned me to me and said, "Hey I saw you didn't put your name in the basket so I did it for you cuz I am definitely your best and greatest friend rn."

Me, in that moment:

Suddenly the room was hotter than Sauron's eyelash curler. I HAD 2 GET OUTTA TEHREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

E

E

EEEEEEEE

I turned to my other only friend and said, "I'm glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things, Sam."

Jk, I said "Son of a b, get me out of here, what do I do, HALP" and she said "here, trade names with me so I can get out of this," and at the time I had no rational thinking going on so I said "Okay yeah this sounds like a good solution, just trade names with me so I still have to go through with this and you don't hahaha yes I am the best at problem-solving." #wishIwasinJamaicarightnow

I took her name and proceeded to figure out who the person was that had this name, a name which has since been burned into my memory. I wandered over to the refreshment table, which I recall having an awful lot of fruit on it. I'm sorry, I know what you chaperones were trying to do for us, but I think you just wasted a lot of fruit and I know for a fact the boys were sneaking Nutter Butters and Animal Crackers into the dance in their crowded pockets (Isaac, I'm mostly talking to you). 

My spellchecker keeps trying to correct the word "chaperone." What do you wantME TO dO?! Change it to "chaperonie?" No. That didn't work. "Chaperoni." Forgeti this.

I walked up to one of the c-rones (that didn't work either, just for those keeping score) and said "Hey, which one of these awkward males is ______?" The guy smiled jovially and said "Ohhhhhh yess, that is a very fine young man. Very fine young man. Just moved here from Idaho." He then proceeded to POINT at the boy, as if the boy couldn't see two strangers staring at him from a few feet away and pointing. Why do people ever try to point subtly? Like, it does not work, unless you happen to be under an Invisibility Cloak. So I went up to the boy to introduce myself. This was a big deal for me because

a) he was surrounded by his other guy friends

b) I was slightly terrified of boys at this point in my pubescent timeline

c) I could've really used some strawberry fro-yo at this point in the story

d) wait I could use some now, hold plz

e)very t)ime s)he t)ells s)tories s)he g)ets s)idetracked w)ith f)ood h)ONESTLY

I blinked nervously. No tears at all. My fail-safes, my tear ducts, my beautiful wonderful Niagra Fall Holes in my eyeballs, FAILED ME. My heart started to work overtime, which I'm sure was very cute.

*Boy*: "Is this chick high on something? It's definitely not laundry detergent..." *examines my eyes more thoroughly*, making the whole situation worse.

And yes, I imagine he was the type of guy to call girls "chicks," and he probably wore cargo shorts on regular days and if he ever had a girlfriend I bet he yelled at her in parking lots. 

I stumbled and said "Uhh....I have your name...." I should have added "I pulled it from the Goblet of Fire." It's really a shame when you think of a good line to say like 15 years after the fact. Such a waste.

Suddenly Celion Dion started to play... "....it's all coming back...." *drum crash* *glass shatters* *speakers blow out* *breaks sound barrier* IT'S ALL COMING BACK TO ME NOWWWWWW!"

Now you know why I really can't forget this moment. Because that song, of all the songs, was playing as it happened. 

He acknowledged my presence after I told him I was his dance partner, basically, and THeN I said, "Nice to meet you. I'm Jared Gibby." Yes. YES. I read his name to him as if it were my own.

He and his friends lost their composure, as I'm sure my eyeballs were practically falling out at this point and I definitely looked like some kind of addict, and as I realized what I had done, Celine was belting something about the nighttime and whispering and I was like "You're goshdang right, I am whispering swears softly under my breath right now GETMEOUTOFHERE."

And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.....ly afraid of stake dances and never went to another one. 

I guess another title for this story could be "In Which McKenzie Explains Her Fear of Baskets and Basket-Related Things." 

"stay swoll, ponyboy"-abraham lincoln

I was at Gold's Gym Vasa (W H A T E V E R) and I had to do this awful free consultation.

Not all the best things in life are free.

The guy who was consulting me was very ripped. His upper half was basically a perfect triangle. Which did nothing except make me think of

The only triangles I really care about. 

But you know how some people are so buff that their upper halves actually turn into TRIAngLES? It's a thing! Mostly found in swimmers because #shoulders. You're always sure to find out something you never needed/wanted to know on this blog.

He asked me to warm up by "biking a little." I got on the stationary bikes (the kind you actually sit down on at a 90 degree angle, which in my opinion doesn't do anything). One time I saw someone using a stationary bike at the AF Fitness Center. She was eating a fudgesicle while pedaling.

sidenote: I hate the word Fudgesicle

So, point is, I wasn't exactly "warming up" from this bicycle exercise, but apparently it made my face looked flushed enough that he came over and told me to "cool down." 

Me, 5 seconds later:....uhh...ok. Done. Cooled off.

Him: *eyebrow movement*

Me: Okay, I could use some...water?

Then he fist-bumped me. This would be the first of 50 times I received a fist bump from this guy. FIFTY SHADES OF FIST BUMPING NEVERMIND FORGET I SAID THAT WISH I HADN'T SAID THAT

He then asked me to keep pedaling while he grilled me about my fitness goals and dreams (which I don't really have, oops). I explained to him that I just want to be healthy and I'm not trying to get ripped for anything. He, however, had different plans for lowly ol' Kenzie-Wimpy-Pants-MaGee (that's me). 

Him: "Just tell me your fitness dream."

Me:

Him: What do you want to look like? *fist bump*

Me: A human? Me? Myself? McKenzie? Help.

Him: So like...when you look at yourself in your birthday suit, in the mirror, what do you imagine your dream body being? *fist bump*

Me:

*sending telepathetic messages into the void*: HELP ME SOMEONE HELP

Me, in real life: Okay, ummm well I don't do that...and I guess I just want to be...HEALTHY.

Him: Okay, let's go lift some weights. You're gonna be so ripped it's insane. *double fist bump*

Me: I need some water again. *runs out the sliding glass doors and into my car, which counts as vigorous exercise*

Jk, I went and "lifted" weights (correction: the weights lifted me, off the ground and into outer space). And he told me that I really should get a trainer because I am weak. He didn't explicitly say the w-word, but he said "You're having trouble lifting that barbell there." Then he hi-fived the girl pumping iron next to me. LIKE, okAY, I gET it, you're only hi-fiving the real fitness gurus and the rest of us get FIST BUMPS. 

And again I say, the best things in life are not free (except pizza, if you get free pizza congratz to you and yours).