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1/30/08

Tire of all the election suspense....

I just want Obama to win and be president and for the world to be made out of chocolate and diet coke. And world peace. Is that so much to ask for?

1/28/08

Excellent Classroom Management Skills

This could possibly be fired under "inappropriate teaching methods." Oh well.....

Me: (to student, who is bouncing off the walls,) You seem to be having trouble keeping it together, do you need to go to the office and spend some time thinking about this?

Bouncing Student: Yes. I should probably go to the office. I haven't taken my (ADD) pill yet, that is why I'm so hyper.

Me: Dude. I have ADD too. Do you see me running around like a freak?

Suddenly Very Still Student: No.

Me: (triumphant) Ok then. Head down to the office.

1/23/08

More Rules

WARNING CRANKINESS AHEAD.


To all those other MCBs (Mormon Child Brides) out there-

Rule #90878y87- Bloggers detailing how wonderful they/their lives are will limit the phrase "I/We are so blessed" to twice per entry. Anymore than that makes one sound trite and not very creative. An additional "I/We are so blessed" will be given to any blogger who actually explains WHY they feel that way, instead of using it as a space filler. Just because the Internet is a bottomless pit of words doesn't mean you need to fill it with superficial blessedness.

I am so blessed to have been born with a brain capable of expressing more than one emotion.

1/22/08

Honestly, people.

Seriously, when will the universe realize that it will all be better after I am in charge.

Looks like it is time for more edicts-

Rule #23869- Professors who promise to write students letters of reference will do so in one month or less. Really? You need two months to write one page on how wonderful I am? I don't think so....

Rule#897698- If you call me and ask me to substitute for you, you will leave me a lesson plan, or you will expect me to allow the students to sit and talk/read quietly. If you do not leave me a lesson plan, or a roll sheet, or any information of ANY kind, you will not get surly with me for not teaching your students whatever it is you thought they needed to learn. If it was that important, you would have left me the necessary materials. I may be smarter that you, but even I cannot create a lesson plan for Intermediate Dance and Ballet out of my own head.

Bright side? At least I'm not at Jasmine.....

1/18/08

Rules.

For a number of undisclosed psychological reasons, okay, wait, let's disclose- I'm a control freak- I often find myself making "rules" in my head when faced with a situation I don't like. (Oftentimes.) Unfortunately, since my policy-making only occurs mentally, small children are still allowed inside Jasmine restaurant, and Jean is still calling me to come back to work.

I believe it is time for my policies to leave the realm of my imagination, in the hopes that by stating them in type someone with a modicum of power will discover them and make them law. Because I am a benevolent future dictator, I will explain the reason behind my infinite logic by describing the situations that inspired the "rules." Continue.

A few days ago, at Jasmine, I walked by a table of ten or so college aged men. All were wearing girl pants, size double 00, and had obviously spent considerable time flat-ironing their hair so that it lay spikey and flat across their foreheads. They were discussing whether or not to "go to 80's," a phrase I recognize by attending the University of Utah and rejecting numerous offers to go to 80's night at some club. I was usually asked out by a boy wearing pants so tight that the flow of oxygen was cut of from his brain, and consequently, he forgot he was gay. Anyways, the young men were wondering who to invite, when one of them suggesting calling up Mike.

"Noooooooooooo. Dude! We can't call Mike!" Was the resounding squeal from the table.

"Dude, Mike is soooo gay."

Rule # 23157- Boys wearing pants designed for the opposite gender sporting hair that took longer than that of their female counterparts revoke the right to question anyone Else's sexuality. Why? Because it creates such intense situational irony that others listening to their conversation are rendered dangerously close to choking on their diet coke.

The next day, sadly once more at Jasmine, I had the opportunity to overhear a couple on their very first date. (For future reference, daters, If you are on a first date at a restaurant, guaranteed your server knows this, and that the entire kitchen staff is monitoring your behavior and making fun of you in the back. But I digress.) Anyway, the female part of the date was wearing tight jeans, stiletto's and a mesh turtleneck (again with the irony,). She apparently was at the part of the date where she felt the need to describe herself in great detail. Behold-

"I'm just a mellow, nice, girl, I guess the best way to describe me is really down-to-earth."

Rule # 23158- Girls wearing mesh apparel of any kind are not allowed to describe themselves as anything except the following- slutty, desperate, or surgically enhanced. (Or all three, if the situation merits it, and, my friends, I promise you it did)

Addendum- The makers of mesh turtlenecks will cease and desist immediately.

Honestly, why I have not been granted some high government position is simply beyond me.

1/16/08

Self, I'm Very Disapointed in You.

Dear Self,

Please, for the love of all things holy, LEARN HOW TO SAY "NO." Honestly.

So a week and a half ago, myself and I decided to quit working at Jasmine restaurant in order to take a job elsewhere. When I took said other job, I was not intending to leave Jasmine, merely rearrange my schedule and try to do both. Because I am suicidal that way.

Actually, I just have an incapacitating inability to tell people "No." From nasty ex boyfriends to past employers, I have always wanted to please everyone all the time. I do not know what part of my brain inspires this behavior, because, based on my experience, the people who capitalized on my disability were not deserving of my kindness. And, in general, I dislike most people. Sorry.

In junior high, it was "Megan" a popular cheerleader who only wanted to be my partner in English because I was a good writer, and wouldn't say "No" when it came to doing all the work.

In high school it was "Andy" a manipulative little shit who told me I couldn't break up with him because he was terminally ill. (Why do I always find myself around pathological liars, I must be some kind of magnet.) "Andy" was going to die at the end of the year, and even though I was not worthy to be his girlfriend, as he had plans to date someone else as soon as she became available,( I never pointed out to him that he might be dead by the time that happened,) I was somehow obligated to stay with him. "Andy" and I dated up until my freshman year of college. (Unfortunately, he hadn't died yet.) Even when we broke up, I still could never tell him "No." I simply stopped answering his phone calls.

So my desire to try and work both jobs stemmed from my desire to not tell anyone, heaven forbid, "No." It took my boss screaming at me for even suggesting another job that made me put in my two weeks. And, I'm ashamed to say I did it in writing.

Since then, I've been waiting for my boss to do the inevitable- ask me to work past my two week deadline. I've practiced saying No to her in a myriad of ways. Standing up for myself and telling her that I will not work for her. No. No. No.

Tonight, I told her "Yes."

Please someone, send me to rehab. I'm addicted to Yes.

1/14/08

Wondering.

1. Is it bad that in order to survive my last two weeks of working at Jasmine, I have resorted to stuffing my bag full of chocolate?

2. Is it even worse that up until this new job, one of the prerequisites for any occupation is unlimited/free access to a diet coke machine?

Thoughts?

1/6/08

Secrets

One of my coworkers recently mentioned that, outside the bedroom they share, she and her husband each have their "own" rooms, in which they do projects, turn cartwheels, and sprawl out on the floor, just because they can. Okay. I lied about everything after the "doing projects" part, but the own rooms bit is totally true. I nearly killed her with my look of envy though, since Dan and I have simply carved out our own "spaces" in our tiny apartment. Dan rules the desk are in the living room/dining room/storage room, and I rule from the bed, where me and my laptop, Micheal, investigate all the nonsense those celebrities have been up to.

Anyway, occasionally Dan comes in to visit me, and I always respond by closing whatever page I am looking on. Apparently, he found this a little odd, because after the left after his last visit, he goes.

"I'm leaving now, go back to whatever you were looking at, I promise I won't come back and look."

I guess he thought I was doing something secretive, so I responded- "I only close the page because I am giving you my full attention. Guaranteed if I left it up I wouldn't hear a word you said."

Dan, surprised, "Oh."

Me- "And well, I thought that if you discovered my secret porn addiction, it would get awkward."

Dan- "Not as awkward as when you discovered my secret career. As a porn star."

Dan= 10 points. Stephanie=0.

1/3/08

uh-oh. the sick girl is blogging again.....

Hello.

Is anybody else as excited as I am concerning the results in Iowa? Obama versus Huckabee.* If only it turns out to be that easy. Quite frankly, pitting Huckabee against Obama is like staging a celebrity death match between Hulk Hogan and an Olsen Twin.

I could try to explain why I find the results of the Iowa Caucus significant, but I still have that awful cold and am still fairly delirious on cold medicine. But massive amounts of drugs aside, I can still appreciate this piece by Arianna Huffington, who describes how the Iowa caucuses not only aid in predicting the primaries, but also reflects the mood of American voters. Some excerpts-

"Bush's re-election in 2004 was a monument to the power of fear and fear-mongering. Be Very Afraid was Bush/Cheney's Plans A through Z. The only card in the Rove-dealt deck. And it worked. America, its vision distorted by the mushroom clouds conjured by Bush and Cheney, made a collective sprint to the bomb shelters in our minds, our lizard brains responding to fear rather than hope...."

On the Clintons-

"Be afraid of Obama, they warned us. Be afraid of something new, something different. He might meet with our enemies. His middle name is Hussein. He went to a madrassa school. A vote for him would be like rolling the dice, the former president said on Charlie Rose.
And the people of Iowa heard him, and chose to roll the dice."

Lastly-

"Obama's win might not have legs. Hope could give way to fear once again. But, for tonight at least, it holds a mirror up to the face of America, and we can look at ourselves with pride. This is the kind of country America was meant to be, even if you are for Clinton or Edwards -- or even Huckabee or Giuliani.
It's the kind of country we've always imagined ourselves being -- even if in the last seven years we fell horribly short: a young country, an optimistic country, a forward-looking country, a country not afraid to take risks or to dream big."

For the past seven years we have allowed ourselves to be afraid. Afraid enough to give up our civil liberties. To vote for a president who thinks eavesdropping on our cell phone conversations is ok. To vote for a President responsible for the Patriot Act. So afraid that we convinced ourselves that Bush was right, if we didn't support him, then we were automatically terrorists.

I've often told people that concerning the November elections, I prefer "anyone but Bush." But wouldn't it be beautiful if it was Obama? Wouldn't it be amazing that if 4 years from now, we could look back on Barack's presidency as a time when no more U.S. soldiers had to die in a war based on a lie? A time where health insurance was no longer a luxury of the rich?

I'm a little heady with optimism. For the past 8 years I've been on the loosing team. The team associated with flip-flopping, defeatism, and sympathies for the terrorists. Now, years into a bloody and futile war, it seems my team may have been right. More importantly, it seems like we might have a chance to make it right. Wouldn't that be wonderful?

I am still a bit of a realist. I think it will take years to undo all the damage the Bush administration has wrecked on the economy, the military, and America's world image. But it looks like in a few short months, we may have a chance. That's all I can hope for.

That, and, I would actually really like to see the Hulk Hogan and Olsen Twin thing happen.

1/1/08

Marianna Tagged Me

I usually don't do the tagging thing, but Marianna tagged me and she's a newlywed, and it is always best to do what the newlyweds tell you. Also, I have a terrible cold and cannot come up with anything decent all on my own. So, here we go.

5 Things I was doing 10 years ago.

1. I was eleven, so I don't remember alot. (ADD=Bad Memory.) I seem to remember playing in the dirt alot. I was one of those kids.

2. I remember my little brother Clark was one years old and had finally stopped screaming 24/7.

3. My family moved into the Naniloa House in Holladay.

4. I had Mrs. Ross as my fifth grade teacher. I idolize Mrs. Ross. She encouraged me (at the ripe old age of 11 to be a history major. Oh fate.) She even came to my wedding.

5. I met my friend Whitney Newman, who upon seeing me, told me she was going to have her Mom drive us to the Mall so she could get me some normal-looking clothes. I've never been good at dressing myself.

5 Things I was doing 5 years ago.

1. What was I? 16? I was getting my drivers license and making out with Dan Greaves.

2. Two words: Mrs. Sodders. (Wait, more words, I wasn't doing Mrs. Sodders, I was just taking her AP American History Class. Just needed to clarify there.)

3. Skipping Seminary

4. Skipping German

5. Skipping Pre- Calc.

5 Things I was doing 1 year ago.

1. Planning a wedding.

2. Making out with Dan Lauritzen

3. Taking Gothic Literature at the U and spending hours reading Dracula and wishing I was a sexy vampire too.

4. Freezing as I walked across the U campus everyday.

5. Applying for Graduation.

Snacks I Enjoy

1. Sushi.

2. Chocolate.

3. Let's just say if you cut open my veins I'd bleed a brown, caffeinated, calorie-free beverage.

4. Dill Pickles

5. Cheese and Apple slices like my dad makes me.

Things I Did Yesterday

1. Worked 10 freaking hours at the stupid Jasmine.

2. Kissed Dan at midnight.

3. Was tempted to indulge in the champangne "The Father" (Dave) offered me.

4. Composed long, angry speeches in my head directed at my boss.

5. Tried to get up the nerve to put in my two weeks at the stupid Jasmine.

Jobs I've Had

1. Server at Carmelle Reception Center. I wasn't the type of girl to pre-plan her wedding at age 16. But Carmelle taught me what I definetely did not want. I did not want anyone pinning dollar bills onto my dress as they came through the line. I did not want to see my mother in a minidress. I did not want the best man to through up alcohol during the toast.

2. Normandie Cafe and Bakery. The cooks never wash their hands. You've been warned.

3. Tagge's Famous Fruit. Wake up. Load car with produce. Set up Stand. Sell Fruit and Vegetables on the side of the road. Get hot, dirty, and sweaty. Drive back to the warehouse. Unload fruit. Sort Fruit. Go home. Bathe repeatedly. My most favorite job, ever. I loved the sun. I loved working outside. I loved being horrendously dirty. And I loved eating all the raspberries I could handle.

4. Garden Espresso. All my coworkers were crackaddicts. That's the only reason they let me be the short order cook. They were all on crack. Or just perpetually hungover.

5. Jewish Community Center. Camp Counselor. I learned that my instincts were right, I really do hate small children.

Bonus- Hostess at the stupid freaking Jasmine.

Things I would do if I had a million Dollars

1. Buy a house.

2. Pay off school

3. Buy a personal sushi chef

4. Buy a Car

5. Hire an assasin to kill George W. Bush and Dick Cheny. It would be easy, make it look like a hunting accident.

I'm too tired to finish this. Maybe later.