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7/31/08

It's like finding a rogue piece of Dove chocolate in the back of your freezer....

So a few months ago I posted about bridezilla , a wonderful little specimen who happened to get married in the slc temple the same day I did.


One day I found her blog, and immensely enjoyed getting to know the girl behind the tiara.

Then the inevitable happened. She went private. I regained about 30 IQ points.

But then today, by happy accident, I discovered she has unprivated herself. Oh. The. Joy.

I cannot tell you how pleased I am. She's gotten worse in the months we've been separated

However, I must apologize, but I will not be sharing her blog address with the rest of you. Even if you beg. Because I am have gotten in "blog trouble" before and I'm not doing it again.

Just know that she's alive and well, and continuing to keep the cheesecake factory in business. And I now have a new way to waste my time.

Update: Apparently, if you are in my grad program, and we are all punch drunk from 9 hours worth of class, I can be coerced into showing you her blog. Apparently. But I'm still not releasing it to the internet. I will stand strong.

7/29/08

irony

So last weekend Dan and I went on a double date with my parents to...


Red Mango.*

And then we went to a....gulp.....waaaaay fun barbecue.


Sigh. If I were someone else, I'd be making fun of me right now.

*Red Mango is not that excellent. It's fine, but it certainly isn't worth all the internet "YUMMY!!!!"'s I see floating around.


So, fellow MCB's, after participating in your sacred rituals of going on doubles with your parents and eating "fat free" frozen yogurt, I feel like I can drop a little reminder on another little phrase I've seen quite a bit of recently.

Being Spoiled is not a good thing. "Mom and Dad and/or Hubby spoiled me rotten this weekend!" Guys, need we review our vocabulary? To be "rotten" or "spoiled" is like unto DECOMPOSING. That is the original meaning of the words. Are you a dead body? Do you suffer from rigor mortis? No? Then you are neither spoiled nor rotten.



In the non-literal sense, to be spoiled rotten means to be given everything you want without having to work for it. (If that seems ok to you, stop reading, there is nothing for you here.) Furthermore, it's a term often used to describe small children. Big life hint- you are not a child, even if you choose to talk like one.

So why in the MCB blogland is it considered so great to be SPOILED ROTTEN?

Enlighten me, my people.

7/22/08

to my dear westy

Dear Grad School,

You are manipulative, abusive, and mean.

You insist that I spend every waking moment with you. And also several moments when I should not be waking. You encourage me to eat bad food from your campus out of desperation. The stress of being with you gives me an enormous zit, conveniently on the day you decide that I must make a video presentation to share with the class.

Then you keep me up all night working on a presentation, so that five minutes before the presentation, I spill yogurt all over myself because my motor skills always go first when sleep deprived. Also, you convince me that eating yogurt with a fork is a good idea, because your cafeteria is out of spoons. Damn you. *

And I know that you are seeing other people. 24 other people, to be exact. Other people including one comment mccomm!You think I don't know? I totally know!

We spend hours together developing lesson plans, and then you hand me a textbook that tells me every assumption I have ever had is wrong and inept. (If you were a real boy, this would be like you hooking up with me for my "nice body" and then giving me a weight-watchers manual. For Valentine's Day)


But Westy, you are so charming and handsome. So I will stay with you. Especially since, as you always remind me in your long apology texts after we fight, in less than one year you will give me a piece of paper. A piece of paper that grants me an extra $9,000 a year in my chosen field.

And that piece of paper is waaaay better than the one my last boyfriend gave me (my bachelor's) so I will stay with you. But just so you know, even though that paper was useless, the U was nicer. (If the U were a real boy, he'd be that sweet geeky guy you like, but you won't go out with because you are busy dating the jerk with the car.)

And that piece of paper is way nicer than the piece of paper BYU gave me. That was called an "honor code" and it was the bane of my existence.

So even though you are a total cheating jerk, I will still love you.

The end.


Love, Stephanie.

*True stories.

7/20/08

i do not resemble pie in any way.

There may be some feelings expressed here. I may even discuss my feelings on life. But not in a hipster-cooler-than-thou way, so it's only a little bit hypocritical. Right?

I was called into the Young Women's organization today. I nearly died of relief because ever since the Bishop's secretary person called to tell us the bishop wanted to meet with us to assign callings, I have been silently chanting Please not the Primary, Please not the Primary....*

After calming down a little bit (Yes! Not the primary!) I started to feel a little intimidated by my new calling. What if the girls hate me? What if I say something stupid?

In times of stress I make mental lists, and so naturally, I started making a list of some of my best (and worst) YM experiences.

Best- One of my leader's took me out to lunch when I was 15. She came to my school, picked me up, and took me to McDonald's. She spent the whole time asking me about what I liked, what I did with my friends, and most importantly, what I wanted to be when I grew up. She didn't laugh when I told her I wanted to be a journalist and live in New York. She believed me. She believed I was much more capable than I was, and at every activity, she would tell the other leaders how I was "going to be a famous journalist for the New York Times."

Worst- This didn't actually happen in my ward, but one summer at Girls Camp we had a devotional where some dude came and gave a talk. It was the annual mandatory "chastity" talk, and at one point, he held up a perfect piece of cherry pie. He told us the pie represented us when we were pure and chaste. He then picked up some dirt, and splattered it all over the pie. That was us after we had sinned. I was probably only 14 at the time, but I was deeply disturbed in ways I didn't understand yet. Now a little older, I take special issue with the idea of a piece of pie representing a woman's virginity before it has been "consumed" by a man, but at the time, all I wanted to do was stand up and yell "But what about when Jesus comes in and wipes all the dirt off the pie!" I didn't want to know about sex. I wanted to know about forgiveness and the atonement. I wanted a miracle to happen where the dirt went away and the pie was perfect again. I also never wanted to be compared to food ever again, but minor details people.

I am still grateful for my loving YM leader who took the time to listen. I am still mad at that man, even though I don't think he meant any harm, and it was probably just a case of "really bad object lesson." But I realize now that I shouldn't worry so much about saying something "dumb." What matters is that I express to them how God loves them unconditionally. Regardless of the mistakes they make, they can always turn around and be perfect again through the atonement. Oh, and that they are not, and never will be, pieces of pie.







*Look, I totally would have served in the primary if they had called me. Primary is a great organization, my chanting did not reflect on the program, just my intense and overwhelming fear of children. It's not you, Primary, it's me.

7/16/08

Overheard while walking about my neighborhood.

Kid to friend:

"I wonder if my parents are out yet. They usually only come out at night."

me (thinking): Her parents must be vampires.

Other kid, yelling insult to friend:

"Tree Hugger!"

me (thinking): His parents must be vampires. Right-wing vampires.....

7/11/08

Warning: Some Grumpiness Ahead.

A few weeks ago, someone asked for my number, so that we could "play" sometime. I'm serious. But she didn't actually want to "play." Based on our previous interactions, I assume that by "play" she meant go out to lunch or shopping or some other type of thing that adult women mean when they choose to say the word "play."

Apparently, grown women adopting the terms they used as children is cute and trendy. They say that we want to "play," they describe all our food as "YUMMMYYYY!!!" and in general, they talk like children.

And no, this isn't a case of a Mommy forgetting to turn off her mommy voice when interacting with adults, I've heard plenty of childless women shriek like a little girl when they see an absolutely "Cuuuutteeee" skirt.

The feminist in me revolts. Especially when women of my "generation," the twenty-something women who benefit from the civil, economic, and social struggles of our mothers and grandmothers, revert to talking like a child.

I get it. It's cute. It's trendy. And most of all, it's very non-threatening. But I'm sick of hearing an adult woman talk about how "cute" and "adorable" her husband is, and how he "SPOILS ME" rotten by buying her cute and adorable presents. Children are cute. Boys are adorable. Children are spoiled by grandparents.

Adult men do not "spoil" adult women. When married or in a committed relationship, they support them in their endeavors and recognize their success as individuals and partners.

Ladies, if we want to be respected in the world, if we want to be taken seriously, we really need to stop talking like children. From wanting the world to value your decision to be a stay-at-home-mom, to wanting your boss to take you seriously, it all starts with, well, talking like a grown-up.

Oh, and treating your husband like your partner, not your white-knight. You are strong, capable, and smart. Your husband is your partner, you support each other in your endeavors. He doesn't "save" you from your inadequacies by buying you a gift card to Anthropologie.

At least, he shouldn't. Furthermore, it's interesting to note that with rare exceptions, men do not talk like babies. If they blog, they use a normal "speaking" tone. They keep the !!!!!!'s to a minimum. Their blog could never be mistaken for a seven year old's. And they certainly don't shriek when they see each other. That is a good thing.

I don't mean to imply that the gender inequality still present in today's society is women's fault. I also don't want to accuse all women of engaging in this behavior. There are plenty of articulate, non-baby-talk using women who are still ridiculed for their decision to become mothers, or miss that work opportunity because of their gender.

But the baby talk certainly doesn't help the cause. If we want the world to respect our beliefs, values, and decisions, it is important for us develop the vocabulary necessary to articulate them. As long as we keep talking like children, we can never fully participate in and influence the adult world.

I'm not trying to be a jerk. I know some things really are WAAAY cute. And my husband buys me presents all the time, so I'm not against that either. And I am also a terrible speller with limited grammar proficiency, so I don't advocate perfection. But everything in moderation. Okay? Okay. Thanks.

7/7/08

recipe

My friend Jess wrote a whole blog post about me. It is hysterical.

I would "link it" but I don't know how.

http://spencerandjessicaslade.blogspot.com/

Scroll down until you see the post, "Stephanie, Revealed."

I will add to the revelations. I read Martha Stewart Living religiously at my grandma's house. I feel like it is time for me to live an open and honest lifestyle, and that means admiting to loving Martha's design layouts.

7/5/08

date

Costco+ hot dogs+ coke+ purchase of crappy adolescent literature= best date ever.

I'm either really easy to please, or complete white trash.

7/1/08

time bomb

I have been married almost a year and a half.

Which according to

Utah Culture

Mormon Culture

Probably any Culture, You Take Your Pick

it is time for me to reproduce. I do not know who picked this number, but in a year and a half, all couples are supposed to start at least considering spawn.

And no excuse for waiting is valid. No health insurance? I am told that "things like that work themselves out." In the middle of a grad program? "My mother got through nursing school and had two kids to boot!" Thanks for sharing.

Spouseman currently looking for a job? Wife pratically unemployed?"You'll never have enough money to justify having a kid." (true, but i think there should be at least some sort of minimum. like enough to buy diapers? maybe?)

I don't even try the "I am not interested in reproducing right now." That just gets me some variation of Sister Beck's "Women Who Know Reproduce Immediately" talk. Despite the fact that the First Presidency/common sense mentions that couples should make the decision to have a child carefully and after considerable thought/prayer, I cannot seem to escape the "it's wrong to wait one millisecond past a year and a half" mentality. I am also regaled with the "it's dangerous and unhealthy for an older women" spiel. Um. Hello. I'm 21. I think I'll still be young enough to reproduce for a while.

I have a relative that is so certain that I will be pregnant any day now that she makes casual reference to how my Grandparents will come home from a mission to a great-grand baby living in the house. It's a shame people discourage physical violence among family members.

My favorite part of this little conundrum is that while telling me I must get pregnant RIGHT NOW, the same people tell me horror stories-

Your body will never ever be the same. You will be fat and ugly forever.

Sex sucks after childbirth.

Your Children become more important than your Spouse. Your marriage will fall apart.

I went to get induced and woke up missing a limb.

I don't think these people realize the irony of telling me to get pregnant in the same breath they tell me how awful child rearing is.

So here's a suggestion. If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all. And if you promise not to tell me when to bring life into the world ever again, I promise to let you hold the little nugget once it's actually born.

deal?