Story of What Happened Today
I deactivated my Facebook account today.
Then I wanted to tell people about it so I went to make a Facebook status.
...oh.
Story of Finding My Dream Husband (Not particularly humorous but still particularly golden)
Okay, this is not a love story. But kind of. I met this older man (WAIT before you get uncomfortable) yesterday morning. In the Anne of Green Gables series, Anne calls especially wonderful people "kindred spirits" or she says that they are of the race of Joseph. This man was as kindred-y and spirit-y and race-of-Joseph-y as a person could get. I actually wrote down our conversation word for word after he left.
Most important point: He said that every day was the best day in the history of the world, and the reason was that he was married to his wife for another more day. My heart MELTED. How great is that?! He loves his wife so much that he can't go two minutes without talking about her to a perfect stranger. This is why that man represents my dream husband. Maybe my husband will have a different way of showing it than my new friend Bob, but he's sure going to love me that much and you can bet I'm going to love him that much right back.
Story of How I Am Gullible
Yes. I am. Very. When people tell me that "gullible" is written on the ceiling, I just HAVE to look, because it's probably not but what if it is?? Forreals, what if you missed out on the one time that "gullible" really was there. (Look up, because "gullible" is written on your ceiling...like, I just had to look at my own ceiling.) Incidentally, "gullible" really is written in chalk on the ceiling of the tunnel that leads from Hinckley to the RB. Look next time.
So, today's gullibility story. I got two glasses of milk and I thought that I filled them, but when I looked half an hour later (no one had taken a drink from them), I SWEAR the milk level was lower. And this is the second time I've noticed this happening. I told my friend and said it was probably just the frothy bubbles disappearing, but then he explained otherwise.
He said that milk condenses when it sits, so the milk level really did get lower. And he said that if i shook up my cup a little bit, the molecules would spread out and I'd have a full glass again.
If anyone ever tells you that if you shake up a non-carbonated drink, then it swells up somehow--don't believe them. Trust me.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Saturday, February 25, 2012
umumummm
In a given moment, I have an infinite number of factors that make my life mine. Before I commence with storytelling, I would just like to point out that ALL of the different events and characteristics of my life at this moment--and THIS one and THIS one--are just...wonderful. Even the bad stuff is wonderful in its own way. If you haven't figured out how great your life is, think about it and don't stop thinking until you know that it's great. Every life deserves to be appreciated.
Now. My life is funny but I can't remember any recent stories that are perfect for my blagh so I'm reminiscing.
Story of the Lil Baby Scar on my Left Foot
I love eating grapes, but other than when I am chewandswallowing them, we tend to meet under unpleasant circumstances. Like when Carine is chucking them at me. Or...when they give me scars.
Once upon a high school day, I was walking just outside the cafeteria, wearing sandals with extremely poor traction. Walkingwalkingwalking--sandal steps on grape, grape slides, sandal slides, foot slides with it, skin on top of foot slides against tile floor (how??), foot bleeds, body's balance goes berserk, COMPLETE AND UTTER WIPE OUT. I am sprawled on the ground.
The above is one of those "if-I-didn't-have-a-sense-of-humor-I-would-die" times. I think I developed a sense of shame that grew slowly in elementary school, peaked in middle school, and decreased all through high school. So college then found me devoid of embarrassment. Luckily, Grape Incident occurred junior year, so I was already down to like...3 out of 10 on the shame scale. (Disclaimer: There are separate shame scales for silly things and naughty things. My Silly Shame score is about 0, my Naughty Shame score a 10 and staying strong.)
If I ever take myself too seriously, I just look down and see a little scar on my foot and I perspective-ify my thoughts. Life lessons come in strange forms sometimes.
Now. My life is funny but I can't remember any recent stories that are perfect for my blagh so I'm reminiscing.
Story of the Lil Baby Scar on my Left Foot
I love eating grapes, but other than when I am chewandswallowing them, we tend to meet under unpleasant circumstances. Like when Carine is chucking them at me. Or...when they give me scars.
Once upon a high school day, I was walking just outside the cafeteria, wearing sandals with extremely poor traction. Walkingwalkingwalking--sandal steps on grape, grape slides, sandal slides, foot slides with it, skin on top of foot slides against tile floor (how??), foot bleeds, body's balance goes berserk, COMPLETE AND UTTER WIPE OUT. I am sprawled on the ground.
The above is one of those "if-I-didn't-have-a-sense-of-humor-I-would-die" times. I think I developed a sense of shame that grew slowly in elementary school, peaked in middle school, and decreased all through high school. So college then found me devoid of embarrassment. Luckily, Grape Incident occurred junior year, so I was already down to like...3 out of 10 on the shame scale. (Disclaimer: There are separate shame scales for silly things and naughty things. My Silly Shame score is about 0, my Naughty Shame score a 10 and staying strong.)
If I ever take myself too seriously, I just look down and see a little scar on my foot and I perspective-ify my thoughts. Life lessons come in strange forms sometimes.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
mmmmmmeh
I think most of my titles will end up being things like "narf" and "mmmmmeh," mostly because I'm forced to talk using existent words all the time, and most of the time I'd like to speak in grunts and indistinguishable noises. The cavemen were onto something there, ya feel me? I heard something once about how with body language and tone and facial expression, the actual words you say only make up about 5% of your meaning. I say why bother with the words, because 95% communication is good enough for me. But in real life this would cause problems so I limit myself to my blog titles.
Sequel to the Story of Saying Hi to People that Don't Say Hi To Me
Reminder: In my first funny stories post, I talked about how I had said hi to people that didn't hear me and so on. Well, today another variation of this happened. I saw someone I knew, waited until they were close, and said "Hey _____". Unfortunately, today there always seemed to be a stranger between us, and they always turned like I was talking to them. Like, "Yes, male that I don't know, when I said 'Hey Sophie!' I was talking to you. Oh wait NO I WASN'T TURN AROUND."
Story of the Sorry Game
This is one of my new favorite games at BYU, especially in the Cannon Center at meal times. For those who don't know, the sorry game only works when you are in an environment filled with overly-polite people in mass.
Rules:
1. Scope out an unsuspecting victim.
2. Act like you aren't looking as you walk in the direction towards them.
3. Accidentally-on-purpose bump into them. (Extra points for excessive force or broken dishes. Not really about the dishes.)
4. DO NOT SAY SORRY.
5. Wait....THEY WILL SAY SORRY.
6. Reassure them that it's okay.
7. Restart game.
This is a strange phenomenon that most people don't notice because we all do it. We all apologize, even if someone clearly barreled straight into us. IT'S BRILLIANT.
Story of How I am Insecure about my Mathematical Abilities
We were learning about the energy of life pyramid today. The rule is, each level up retains 10% of the energy. My professor called on me in class to tell what each level up would be if the base level was 20,810 kcal. I was blushing a whole lot because I was afraid I'd mess up at dividing by 10 in front of the class. But I got every level right!
Self-Absorbed Story of my Random Daily Observation
I was told today that 1. I am awkward and 2. I am calm. After reflection, I decided that I like having both of these traits.
Sequel to the Story of Saying Hi to People that Don't Say Hi To Me
Reminder: In my first funny stories post, I talked about how I had said hi to people that didn't hear me and so on. Well, today another variation of this happened. I saw someone I knew, waited until they were close, and said "Hey _____". Unfortunately, today there always seemed to be a stranger between us, and they always turned like I was talking to them. Like, "Yes, male that I don't know, when I said 'Hey Sophie!' I was talking to you. Oh wait NO I WASN'T TURN AROUND."
Story of the Sorry Game
This is one of my new favorite games at BYU, especially in the Cannon Center at meal times. For those who don't know, the sorry game only works when you are in an environment filled with overly-polite people in mass.
Rules:
1. Scope out an unsuspecting victim.
2. Act like you aren't looking as you walk in the direction towards them.
3. Accidentally-on-purpose bump into them. (Extra points for excessive force or broken dishes. Not really about the dishes.)
4. DO NOT SAY SORRY.
5. Wait....THEY WILL SAY SORRY.
6. Reassure them that it's okay.
7. Restart game.
This is a strange phenomenon that most people don't notice because we all do it. We all apologize, even if someone clearly barreled straight into us. IT'S BRILLIANT.
Story of How I am Insecure about my Mathematical Abilities
We were learning about the energy of life pyramid today. The rule is, each level up retains 10% of the energy. My professor called on me in class to tell what each level up would be if the base level was 20,810 kcal. I was blushing a whole lot because I was afraid I'd mess up at dividing by 10 in front of the class. But I got every level right!
Self-Absorbed Story of my Random Daily Observation
I was told today that 1. I am awkward and 2. I am calm. After reflection, I decided that I like having both of these traits.
Friday, February 17, 2012
narf
If one has left their childhood too far behind them, "narf" is a quote from Pinky.
Nevertheless, I made the best of it and did not burn the next pan of chocolate chip cookies, and Lisa told me that even though they weren't pretty, the cookies were still delicious. And that's what counts.
Story of Trying to Do Squats and Carine Being a Bad Spotter
Carine and I went to the gym together last night, and we decided to do free weights. Carine, in case you hadn't heard, is a big deal. She was champion in deadlifts in high school, so she knew what to do and she was helping weak and naive lil' me. We did squats first, and I was on my last set. Carine was behind me, spotting--or so I thought.
I was struggling and shaking as I was going through my set, and finally my back just gave out and I went down. TO THE GROUND. Luckily there were bars to catch the bar, but they were a foot of the ground. Which left me curled up, squished in that foot of space between the bar and the ground. (Aside: the gym is fairly crowded.) Carine just cries out, "MEG!"
No, she had not been watching. When we switched to bench press two minutes later, a guy asked me if I needed help knowing what to do. And I don't think he was flirting...
When you don't know what to say....narf it.
Now it's story time!! Also I apologize for those to whom I've already told these stories.
Story Of My Valentine's Day Cookies
So, Valentine's Day was this week, and I was having just a great day, so I decided to make some Valentine's cookies for some people in my ward. I was feeling ambitious but only semi-ambitious, so I got slice and bake sugar cookies and chocolate chip cookies.
It was the first time I used our oven here at the dorms, and I'm very very spoiled with a convection back oven at home. First mistake: I put 16 sugar cookies on a sheet that was obviously meant for 12. Like, I KNEW that only 12 were supposed to go on it, but I figured that the cookies would have pity on my laziness and just not spread very much. Second mistake: I put the first pan of chocolate chip cookies on the lowest shelf. Seven minutes in, I smell a burning...a peek in the oven reveals chocolate chip cookies charcoal black on bottom and liquid on top. Also, the 16 sugar cookies had turned into...one cookie.
Here is the mixture of feelings and thoughts that I experienced:
"OH NOOOO!"
"Awww, this WOULD happen to me."
"HAHAHAHAHHAA."
"Ugggggh."
"hahahahahaahahahahahhahahahahahahaha."
"I can't give the burnt ones to anyone for Valentine's Day, that's be saying "I hate you"...."
"MY FUTURE FAMILY WILL STARVE."
The human brain is amazing in the way it can think so many thoughts in a matter of three milliseconds. The last thought really was the most important--I literally started imagining dinner times when all of my kids would just start crying and complaining about the food I cook, my kind husband just staring dejectedly at his burnt macaroni and cheese.
Nevertheless, I made the best of it and did not burn the next pan of chocolate chip cookies, and Lisa told me that even though they weren't pretty, the cookies were still delicious. And that's what counts.
Story of Trying to Do Squats and Carine Being a Bad Spotter
Carine and I went to the gym together last night, and we decided to do free weights. Carine, in case you hadn't heard, is a big deal. She was champion in deadlifts in high school, so she knew what to do and she was helping weak and naive lil' me. We did squats first, and I was on my last set. Carine was behind me, spotting--or so I thought.
I was struggling and shaking as I was going through my set, and finally my back just gave out and I went down. TO THE GROUND. Luckily there were bars to catch the bar, but they were a foot of the ground. Which left me curled up, squished in that foot of space between the bar and the ground. (Aside: the gym is fairly crowded.) Carine just cries out, "MEG!"
 |
| FAIL |
No, she had not been watching. When we switched to bench press two minutes later, a guy asked me if I needed help knowing what to do. And I don't think he was flirting...
Thursday, February 16, 2012
ha. haha. hahaha. HAHAHAHAHAHA.
Sooo here's the thing. I started writing in my journal, so writing in my blog just seemed a little redundant and I saw no point. However, I realized that I can get the best of both worlds! In my journal, I get to write about things that will remain a mystery, and in my blog, I'll record all the funny little things that happen in my life.* And whatever else I feel like recording. A lot of funny things happen, because God knows I have a sense of humor and He has one too, so we get to share laughs...frequently. I consider my sense of humor one of the greatest gifts that God has given me, and I thank Him so much for it--especially for those times when it helps me turn horrible days into the funniest as I laugh life's foibles away.
Story Number One. The Reeses Puffs Story.
It was Friday night, and I had resolved to leave my friends early to do some much needed work for school (Report: An aquatic study of macro invertebrates in the Provo River. I needed a LOT of my sense of humor to get through that paper). But just as I was sitting at my desk, Carine walked into my room to show me the Yoda pen prize from her Reeses puffs box. Of course, we decided we wanted to GET ALL EIGHT CHARACTER PENS. Starting from a clean slate, so her Yoda didn't count.
We ran--literally--to the creamery and I bought two boxes. Opened them, got two new characters. Bought and opened two more, two more--we had now spent about 16 dollars and had SIX different pens. By this time, the cashier was in on our goal and some fellow customers were onlooking and laughing at us. We bought the last two--making me bankrupt on my dining card, by the way--AND WE GOT ALL EIGHT. ALL EIGHT PENS IN ONLY EIGHT BOXES. We jumped and screamed so much that another worker came to see who was dying and the cashier took a picture and told us how cool she thought we were.
It was a statistical miracle, and we considered going to Vegas right away to win a million dollars. But instead I went home and wrote my paper. But I was happier doing it.
Story Number Two. Tripping.
So this isn't just one story, it's a shout out to ALL the times I've been walking by myself (but surrounded by strangers) on campus and have tripped and stumbled. You know people saw but you can't just turn around and be like, "Please laugh with me so I can not feel embarrassed about this." Or maybe I'll just do that next time?
Story Number Three. Greeting people that don't greet you back.
Also just a general funny thing--I think I've said hi to at least five people in the last 24 hours that have either 1. not heard me, 2. not seen me, and/or 3. been saying hi to the person behind me.
Story Number Four. Gymnastics in the basement.
In the middle of writing my macro invertebrates paper the day after the Reeses phenomenon, I realized I needed a break so I went down to the empty basement room to do some gymnastics exercises. A few minutes in, Cami came in to wash dishes but she told me to pretend she wasn't there. Now, that's really hard to do, so I was still embarrassed but I decided to just do a backbend and try to forget that she was a few feet away washing dishes. Unfortunately, a couple seconds into my backbend, a SEARING pain went through my left side back, and I almost cried out. BUT I COULDN'T BE A WIMP WITH CAMI THERE! So I just bit my lip and slowly sat back down and tried to not cry while I waited for the pain to subside. ...I went upstairs a few minutes later. (Note: my back is now just fine).
*Disclaimer: YOU MIGHT NOT THINK THESE STORIES ARE FUNNY. If that's the case, I have three suggestions for you:
One, look up "Boys will be girls" by the Harvard Sailing Team on youtube. Never fails to make me laugh.
Two, fake laugh. Really, fake laugh out loud. Try it. TRY IT.
Three, if you didn't laugh after one or two...never look at this blog again. I'm still going to write the stories because I want to remember my life.
Story Number One. The Reeses Puffs Story.
It was Friday night, and I had resolved to leave my friends early to do some much needed work for school (Report: An aquatic study of macro invertebrates in the Provo River. I needed a LOT of my sense of humor to get through that paper). But just as I was sitting at my desk, Carine walked into my room to show me the Yoda pen prize from her Reeses puffs box. Of course, we decided we wanted to GET ALL EIGHT CHARACTER PENS. Starting from a clean slate, so her Yoda didn't count.
We ran--literally--to the creamery and I bought two boxes. Opened them, got two new characters. Bought and opened two more, two more--we had now spent about 16 dollars and had SIX different pens. By this time, the cashier was in on our goal and some fellow customers were onlooking and laughing at us. We bought the last two--making me bankrupt on my dining card, by the way--AND WE GOT ALL EIGHT. ALL EIGHT PENS IN ONLY EIGHT BOXES. We jumped and screamed so much that another worker came to see who was dying and the cashier took a picture and told us how cool she thought we were.
It was a statistical miracle, and we considered going to Vegas right away to win a million dollars. But instead I went home and wrote my paper. But I was happier doing it.
Story Number Two. Tripping.
So this isn't just one story, it's a shout out to ALL the times I've been walking by myself (but surrounded by strangers) on campus and have tripped and stumbled. You know people saw but you can't just turn around and be like, "Please laugh with me so I can not feel embarrassed about this." Or maybe I'll just do that next time?
Story Number Three. Greeting people that don't greet you back.
Also just a general funny thing--I think I've said hi to at least five people in the last 24 hours that have either 1. not heard me, 2. not seen me, and/or 3. been saying hi to the person behind me.
Story Number Four. Gymnastics in the basement.
In the middle of writing my macro invertebrates paper the day after the Reeses phenomenon, I realized I needed a break so I went down to the empty basement room to do some gymnastics exercises. A few minutes in, Cami came in to wash dishes but she told me to pretend she wasn't there. Now, that's really hard to do, so I was still embarrassed but I decided to just do a backbend and try to forget that she was a few feet away washing dishes. Unfortunately, a couple seconds into my backbend, a SEARING pain went through my left side back, and I almost cried out. BUT I COULDN'T BE A WIMP WITH CAMI THERE! So I just bit my lip and slowly sat back down and tried to not cry while I waited for the pain to subside. ...I went upstairs a few minutes later. (Note: my back is now just fine).
*Disclaimer: YOU MIGHT NOT THINK THESE STORIES ARE FUNNY. If that's the case, I have three suggestions for you:
One, look up "Boys will be girls" by the Harvard Sailing Team on youtube. Never fails to make me laugh.
Two, fake laugh. Really, fake laugh out loud. Try it. TRY IT.
Three, if you didn't laugh after one or two...never look at this blog again. I'm still going to write the stories because I want to remember my life.
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