Do you want to know what you can do to make yourself feel AWESOME??

Ok. Go to a party on a Friday night, and then find out that a girl you babysat when she was 3 years old is also there as a guest. It's totally amazing.

I was going to go over say hi, hear about her Freshman year of college, but then I realized the last time we had a chat of such length and enthusiasm I was changing her diaper. Nice.

i stand corrected, i stand corrected.

the nuptials of sarah and harry will take place on july 25, not july 28.

Today

sorry.

Wedges are dangerous.

Raise your hand if you've ever been working at an upscale women's shoe store and you've been selling one of these "wedge" shoes

and you say to the woman whose 28 karat ring is blinding you, 

"Wedgies have been selling well because they're more comfortable than a stiletto."

[My hand is well up in the air.]

Woops.  She bought em even though I called them a Deacon's gift to his little sister.

story time: my most sincere apologies

about 2 months ago, a total betty named nicole moved into my ward and (get ready for your mind to blow) apartment complex.  she hails from UT, is an RN, a beautiful brunette, speaks portuguese, and i love having her around.

hold up, i need to explain something else: i had some bad luck with keeping cell phones alive this last year.  don't ask me how, but i went through 4 very quickly.  as cameron departed for his mission, he bequeathed unto me his cell phone in a moment of oozing generosity.  he had but one request: that i not delete any of his contacts, as he'd surely want to transfer them over to the new swanky phone he'll get in 17 months when he returns home an awkward farmer's tanned dude.  cool, done and done.

ok back on track.  so due to the fact that in my apartment complex, you are unable to swing a dead cat without it hitting nicole's apartment, when i need to tell/ask her something or just visit, i just gyrate on over.  on occasion people have asked me for her number, and so i dug up on my/camer's phone nicole's utah area-coded number, and passed it along.  the last couple of days we've been trying to get a disneyland trip together, and i was most displeased that she never answered my phone calls and never texted me back.  [growl and sigh]  then this morning i was invited to disneyland by our friend brad and wasn't sure if i could go (we unemployed people are insanely busy, you know).  a few minutes later i got a text from an unknown number that said something to the effect of:

"hey meredith!  it's nicole!!!  what is this about you not coming to disneyland?!  please come."

uh, who is that other nicole that i've texted and whom other people, through my sharing technique, have also texted and/or called?

to   if i know!

well, no, i know, it's got to be one of cam's friends, to whom i issue my most drippy apology for causing you confusion.  i only hope you're not contracted to an AT&T stingy text messaging plan.  and, as ever, MERZY CHRISTMAS!

come again another day

rain has always been my favorite piece of weather.  growing up in southern california, it was as extreme as we would ever experience, and it was terribly electrifying to need protection from mother nature.  just a convenient dollop of protection, though.  it earned for us a blanket after school, it eased feet off gas pedals to deflect the hydroplaning, but being outside didn't create the sensation of sewing needles pricking your face and hands (como se dice snow?).  it just felt clean, crisp, and astir, so we'd slosh around in the puddles as often as possible, and, as if this post weren't already cute enough, we'd stick out our cute little tongues and try to catch cute little rain drops to see if they tasted cute or not.  

then it had to haul off and totally blow our fabulous relationship.  over the thanksgiving holiday, rain decided to dribble, nay, pour itself through the window of my car, all over the interior, making it smell like a mildew garden.  lysol has been sprayed, and sprayed, and sprayed, fragrant car-oma trees have been hung, and hung, and hung, and my typically weak sense of smell still recognizes that sourness every time i hunker down in my coach.  such a great thing between us, totally obliterated. 

once i have the maturity to acknowledge that I was the one who cracked the window, parked outside, and then peaced out for 5 days, i will totally be BFFs with rain again.

[nervous giggle]

i'm not much of a morning person. no i take it back. i would hedge a bet that i am the least morning of persons ever to suck in some oxygen in the history of the world. my most harmonious companionship on my mission was with hermana lott; we were both horrible in the mornings, and we just had this understanding that not a word would be exchanged until we were eating breakfast, about an hour after we'd arisen. i'm groggy. it's a toss up whether i'm incredibly grouchy and cruel or incredibly giggly and loopy. i'm in a race to get to the bathroom. i'm just...i'm just...i just need a few minutes.

so i've been unemployed for about a month, right? (not abiding the last 7 business days in which i temped for a friend whilst she splish splashed either in puddles or in the surf of my old stomping grounds, ROSTA CICA.) i could and should write another post here about what i've learned in my exclusion from the pay day club for the first time in a decade. but for now, suffice it to say i'm stoked to fill out some new HR forms once again. it's so close, i can taste it. that and the "yogurt" covered almond i just plunged into my mouth. i'm most hopeful for this one job where my dear friend alyson has been working. her husband has had her cell phone for the past month so i've become accustomed to reaching her on her work line or through email.

this morning i was jolted into consciousness by the ring-a-ling-a-linging of my cell phone. i only know that i saw it was aly's work number, and answered it post-haste, "HEEEEYYYYYY!" the person on the other end was not aly.

long story short, i'm 98% sure that somehow in the minutes that followed, her boss and i scheduled an interview, i'm 38% sure i spoke all in coherent english, and i'm 85% sure that they still want to interview me, but i do plan on double checking with aly.

if i ever own my own company, out of decency and respect for my kind, i will schedule all interviews with potential employees at approximately 11:58 pm. give them a real chance to shine.

i stand corrected.

yesterday i was at lunch with a couple of chums, and a young man present named occunningham said who knows what, and i misused the words sympathize and empathize in my reply. occunningham called me out on it. i argued the point for a minute, then retraced my verbal steps, and ceded. i know, riveting. he demanded that i blog about it and expose my folly, because he, the accountant, thinks that i, the former english major, am supposed to have perfect grammar every waking moment. ok, maybe i often do, but as yoda would say, "human i am." or that's what yoda would say a) if he were real, and b) if he were human.

occunningham, here is your big, fat, freaking blog post about my guffaw and your victory.

Tire Labor Day

look at this bliss. wasn't my labor day charmed? even angela martin would have to agree; a day at the beach with alyson, lindsey, kristen, the hadleys, andrew, randy, etc., a slightly sunburnt nose, polishing it off in aly's backyard jacuzi....

i'm all up in fervent admiration for the person who invented labor day, and by extension the american government for continuing to sanction it. otherwise instead of frolicking in the surf, i would have been sitting in an office inserting an IV of dark, sinful chocolate to numb the annoyance that is my current job.

however, before there was the beach and all the charm, there was indeed labor. labor of the acutest (not cutest) kind. via the adventure that came upon lindsey and i on this labor day, i found myself laying on my stomach on the 5 freeway. i'm pretty sure brother brigham never intended that for any daughter of zion. grease was slabbed about my hand. the horrors! the horrible horrors!! why the hell would i ever engage in such folly?

you know i'm about to tell you, because that's what i do on this blog.

lindsey and i were driving along, merging onto the 5 south to meet our friends in sleepy san clemente. i was, pretty ironically, mentioning that i needed my oil changed, and that lead me to reminisce about that time back in like, 1998 when my dad showed his children how to change oil and a tire, predicting such an unfortunate car malfunctioning situation should inevitably, one day, kick our bottoms. i just happened to be chuckling about the fact that i had never personally dealt with vehicular rubber OR oil, and so, all that useful instruction had quickly evaporated from my brain.

just then a mini-van honks wildly next to us. i think, "what? i'm not cutting you off, i'm not speeding. dude, what's yo beef?" he does the "roll down the weendow" sign, and once we roll he informs us that my black left tire is flat.

what. ? .

we pull off to the shoulder. thank HEAVEN lindsey has done all this before.

we get to work. in spite of the situation, i was kind of having a good time.

we were almost done, and then a copper pulls up behind us. he swaggers over, clearly planning on being something of a

to us helpless felines (although to be totally honest, if lindsey hadn't been there, he would have found me sitting on the gravel sobbing without my AAA services, and would have become a true officer hero). i think he was a bit disappointed to find it was almost finished, critiqued lindsey on something trivial, and then loosened some bolts for us, thereby absorbing some of the grease effect.

pretty soon we were donut-ed up and on our way to the ocean blue. i always knew this day would come, and i am pleased to say it happened when i had the crafty and wisened hands of a pal there to make the scion all better.

J.K.I.

ever since i watched that 60 minutes on sleep deprivation, which taught that, under no uncertain conditions, sleepers of few hours will have miserable, forgetful, fatty, frumpy, grumpy existences, i've been quite the bed-on-time enthusiast.  and yet, here i am at midnight, wide awake and considering embarking on a myriad of activities (dying my hair or watching a feature length film or burning cds for pals) before i have a date with mr. sandman.  why???

because i have nary an obligation tomorrow.  because, get this: i didn't interrupt/talk enough!!!

wait i'm just going to say it again because i can't believe it's even true.  i.  didn't.  talk (?). enough!

today i had an interview at a ridiculously successful architectural firm that, quite honestly, had me all glittery and twinkly.  i would be editing, which made the happiness alarm in my head start wailing, "HAHA!  me and a red pen!"  i was drunk off the bounty of possibilities.  

i can talk the cap off a pen.  if i'm next to a person with whom i have something in common i get all excited.  i'm like jojo the idiot circus boy with his pretty new pet.  the pet is my possible sale.  oh my pretty little pet, i love you.  so i stroke it, and i pet it........

[nervous giggle] just kidding.  or at least i hope i have a minimal amount of things in common with tommy boy.

but anyway i've felt lately that no matter my enthusiasm level, no matter how many things i have to interject, moments of similar opinion or experience, whatEVer, i should zip my lips and wait until i believe the other party has completely rung out their idea's sponge before i jump i with my 200 cents.  it all comes back to that self control thing my mom's so good at.  i've wondered lately if i cut people off too much, and if i do, that's a level of selfishness from which even i am ready to step down.

and tragically, today was day #1 of that project hush-hush-merzy.   

and tragically, today was day #1 of that biting me big time, as my feedback in my job-letting-down was that this translated into a lack of interest and passion.  and they gave it to someone who seemed really excited.  i'm not accustomed to getting turned down on the job i want.  it stung/k.  i almost stole a line from sense and sensibility and said, "i shall brook no refusals!"  if they only KNEW the firecrackers that had erupted up to my esophagus as they told me what i'd be doing and as i knew how experienced i am with it all.  as i imagined working in their heavenly edifice, scratching out errors with my blood-red pen, sprucing and gutting their verbiage to my heart's delightful indulgence, alongside guapo, brainy architects, 2 inches from where friends' offices and fashion island with the paranoid fish pond.

lesson learned: J.K.I.  Just Keep Interrupting.  i'm making stickers.  maybe that'll be my new job.  if i'm self employed i get to wear jeans every day -- christmas bonus!

lesson learned: after a 5 minute panic of self-doubt and "why did i quit my job and move when the economy is VICIOUS?!" i realized, "hey, i have a loosey goosey day tomorrow.  i'll sleep in...maybe get 10 hours!  i can finish that blasted book i won't openly admit i'm reading.  i have sunny skies, an empty house, a pool, a beach...."  

and now i'm off to paint my nails.  

eroiflksjjjj

i blame it on her.yes she is a vision (in pink), but i inherited this disease completely and utterly and unmistakably from her. she's long since overcome it with sweeping perfection; my mom sort of lives her life in a gliding serenity and has for many a year. she could be meeting anyone from keith richards to ghandi and would maintain poise and dignity. always dignity. i have yet to see the other side of the mountain of

tongue tied-ness.

mom tells the story of a time in jr. high when a nice young fellow had nursed a crush on her, and she had dismissed his affections faster than you can say "simon and garfunkle". later on she felt regretful, and wishful for a return to "the way they were." one day after school she walked along the vacated school hallway and saw young fellow perusing the scrumptious options of the vending machine. mom saw an opportunity to rekindle what she'd once shrugged off without a care. quickly formulating something clever and endearing, what ended up coming out of her mouth as she reached his earshot was, "Porking up???" end scene.

fast forward to the year 1998. mom no longer vocally biffs, she in fact has charmed everyone she's met for years, including her 15.75 year old daughter (moi). i was knee deep in a crush on billy nelson. being a student of another high school (our rival high school, no less!) gave him a hefty dose of mystery, as well as danger (you try mosing over to the woodbridge high school side wearing blue and green on football game nights! death on a stick!) we'd placed sweaty hands on each other for a few slow songs at irvine stake dances, we were getting to be chatty, all was going well. crowning glory moment: he came to MY, repeat MY sweet 16 party and rocked and rolled all night! when the neighbors kicked us crazy mormon delinquents out, we beelined over to 7-11 for 98 ounce slurpees and then zipped over to the bollard's ill-supervised pool for ensured ability to keep on rockin. since i had the metabolism of a bunny rabbit back in them days i was actually right as rain being in my bathing suit with slurpee soaked red teeth, lips, and tongue. the flirting was turning professional. i was thinking about writing a book about it. you could practically be zapped by giggle gamma rays if you passed in between billay and i. then, as my momma done taught me, the time came to play hard to get and get my flirt on with some different dudes. a bit later when 'twas nearing the stroke of midnight, when we all know Who goes to bed, we began to swaddle towels round about and make for the pool gate.

billy was standing by the edge of the pool. i had to make one lasting impression for the night, because, holy moly! i was now 16, i knew it, he knew it, and i would be needing him to ask me on many dates. dates and dates and dates.

in all my wet hair and towel glory, i strutted what my mama gave me on over, drafting and concocting in my noggin what verbal gems i would wow him with. i meant, truly meant, to say, "hey, are you going to take a dip?"

what came out was, "hey, are you going to take a dump?"

close curtain.

for the record, he did ask me on my 2nd official date a week or 2 later, and then a year later i went to his senior prom at the opposing high school, so apparently the slurpee hang over he endured the next morning erased my blooper from his memory bank.

and it seems the lapse of almost 10 years has done nothing to cure me. i still struggle. this morning in the hallway i was passing a bidness superior who shares my love for coldplay tunes and out tumbled, "hey, new album coldplay came last night."

bah. i'm starting up TTA for anyone else who wants to get a sponser and start coming to meetings.