Terrible Tooth Times.

Something that HAS to be universal, that I feel like no one talks about... is how it feels to brush your teeth vigorously when bra-less.

Um.

I am not an orangutan. I'm a PERSON.

Say this to self at least seven times before bed after the experience.

I am a person. A PERSON.

Allllllso, did you catch that BYU-Utah game? It's a great day to be a Ute here in Provo. :) Byyyyyeeeeeee.

to shower or not to shower?

should i be embarrassed that that is even a question?

three weeks off before school is a double-edged sword. i love finally getting to sleep in; i love not having a 2.5 hour commute; i love doing what i want when i want to. but...somehow that never seems to involve showering before noon.

it's not that i hate being clean. i know i will feel better when i have showered, i really do. it's just that i know if i shower, i will have to get ready. that's what i really hate. having to do make up or hair.

i need a magic wand or something.

because this whole 4pm shower thing really isn't working out for me.

Vroom, Vroom, Idiot.

So, last night, I went to Speed Street with Cody and the priests and laurels in his ward - including Courtney! (No, I like being a chaperone for strangers. But really. I did.) And I'll be quite honest, I was super nervous. I'm a panicky driver, and every time I've been in so much as a bumper car since I got in a car accident in May (sorry Brittany.... :/ Worst experience ever.) I feel like I just want to shout bits of profanity. And my sweaty hands start to get worse. And I start nervous laughing a lot.

So the idea of racing go-karts? Meeehhhh, I was... perturbed. I quite honestly had no idea how I felt about it. So then we got there, and I watched people go around, and to myself, I think, "Ohhh, Shelby. You can do that!" And I could. I did. I wanted to.

So, the first ten minutes is just a qualifier, right? It's to see how fast your average lap is, so that they can place you for the average race accordingly. Needless to say, I knew I'd be slow. At first I was just trying not to freak myself out, but... by the end, I had a system. I won't say I was unstoppable, because the track attendants stopped us all a couple times... But I mean. I was pretty awesome. And not only did I not come in last, I came in THIRD to last!! Yeah, you can just start calling me Danika Patrick.

So, anyway, when we started the actual race, I was in a different kart, right? This one, whom I named Sheila, suited my needs. The steering wheel was super stiff, so it was hard to skid out of control like I had maybe been doing around sharp corners on the track in my previous vehicle, and I learned the trick of simply pretending the brake didn't exist. (I was pretty much crapping my pants the first go-around after they warned us not to use both pedals at once - it ruins the kart. OH YOU THINK? :/ ) Sooo, I just folded that leg back and completely away from the pedal, so I wouldn't use the brake at the same time, even in a moment of panic.

GUYS. The second time, when my engine revved up... something in me revved up too. And I gritted my teeth and laughed like a maniac. And I mean... no one heard me, but I heard me. And I was like. Wait. What the crap just came out of me? I ACTUALLY PASSED COURTNEY. And she's crazy competitive. I was fllllying. I was passing priests, I was even like, two behind Cody and about even with his brother Cam. (This would be a lot more impressive to you if you KNEW how crazy competitive they are.)

Then, alllll the sudden, the little raceway manager - more like WOmanager, since he was hitting the tanning bed and hair products harder than all three of us sisters combined, guys... All the sudden he's waving a flag for me to stop as I round the corner by him after a straight away. I'm like, do, I, KNOW, YOU? Oh, just let me fumble for the break and ease to a stop as slow as possible, in denial of the fact that all my out-of-character, competitive hard work is WIZZING by me. Oh, hiiiii, guys. No, that's fine. Pass me. I love it. THIS IS FUN. (It really was, but.)

BUT THEN.
This flipping she-man, this... this, shim walks up to me and leans down over my kart is like, "You can't be hitting the brakes as hard as you are on the track out there. It's bad for the engine." I looked at him through my helmet, my evil eye - you know the one, sisters, the left one - just about to pop out of my flipping head. Is he serious? I wait a second and wipe the little eye shield on my helmet to make sure I'm reading his overzealous, douchey expression properly. Oh, yeah. He is. He's so serious, with his twinkling studs of square-inch imitation diamonds adorning his tan, tan ears. Beneath his ever-so-chic dyed black hair. Which clearly doesn't match his blonde, barely there eyebrows.

... Finally, after he's made sure... oh, just everyone on the track has lapped me at least 700 times, he nods, pats the kart, and gets out of my way. Ohhhh, my gosh. I was seeing red. I folded my leg so far back from the brake that my leg was pretty much under my butt. My angry butt. And I HIT THE GAS. By golly, I HIT it. I'd make sure not to "hit my brakes so hard." Sigh. I made up for lost time, and didn't realize I wasn't blinking until two laps later, one of my contacts started to bubble, you know, like the way they do when you try to have a staring contest.

At that point, I couldn't win. So I made it a point to zip around the whole track at what I felt was a break-neck speed (probably in reality like... 15 miles an hour. Hi.) and yet alllways slow down a little as I passed the shim, standing up there in his hardcore black v-neck, looking like he owned the place. I gave him the stink eye so hard that he better feel lucky there was a helmet shield between us.

The victory in all this? I didn't come in last... I still came in third to last after all that.

What a guy... apparently he did the same thing to Courtney - who also didn't use her brakes. It must have been our matching attire... yes. Right down to the shoes. Who says it stopped being funny in the 90's? Coordinating outfits with friends is always okay. (Let's get matching sister scrunchies.)

Stupid guy. He struck me as the kind of person who would wear sunglasses indoors - oh, Johnny Bravo? No. He's not real, and neither are you, SIR. He was NOT worth the enormous bruises I have on both sides of my back from the racing, as well as the muscle soreness. But... the fun I had while there despite his irksome presence was. Sorry I'm sassy. :/ This is two months of a drought in lady-town being answered by a monsoon of hormones and PMS. Mmm, mm. Be my friend?

Also, let's take the family there over Thanksgiving? Dad would seriously love it, and I think mom would giggle the entire time. And probably win.
L-R: Courtney... ward boy?... me, Cody, Hayley (ward girl), Brrrrother.. McIntosh? I'm... gonna name him that now. His shirt said Max Hall Hates Me, so I liked him, but he irked Cody. He was also competitive!
P.S. Don't you just love how SMALL those helmets make the rest of your body look?! Dude. When I get preggers later in life (much later) I'm gonna wear one all the time. Because I most definitely was like the octo-mom of food babies in this picture and you can hardly even tell. THANKS FLATTERING HEADGEAR, THANKS. And... thanks for Cody taking me, so I could discover the Dale Earnhardt Jr. within - a gift for everyone. :))))

Hi, Sisters.

So, remember the first time you fully realized you had to pack up and move out of our house? Away from our cute parents?

Did it suck this bad, or....?

WHY am I old enough to move out and DO this.

Is it just me...

...or does she still look too pretty to play Katniss? Not trying to be a Debbie Downer-pants here, but you know. The girl is supposed to be near starvation and tough as nails, no?

http://brainjacked.tumblr.com/post/8586122908

Aren't you glad I didn't say...banana?

I haven't loved working this summer. There. I said it. I don't like getting on the train and riding 50 minutes away from my little apartment and Eric and then taking a bus full of crazy, smelly people for another 20 minutes to work. I just don't. And I can't say that I am really loving the projects I work on either. I don't know if it is where I work, or if I would feel this way about any place, but now you know. The one good thing about my day is that I have a hilarious co-worker. She and I hit it off from day one - I think in part because she reminds me of my sisters a bit...talks to herself, makes weird noises and faces, catches on to inside jokes, etc.

Today we both brought bananas to work, which led to a magical moment of kindred spiritness:

Kate: You know, I don't really love bananas (takes a bite).

Me: Me neither (also takes a bite).

Kate: And, like, in theory, I do, you know? It's like the essential travel fruit. Nothing packs like a banana.

Me: Oh, I know, right? It's like an orange, but so much less work. A banana is like a can of coke. And an orange is like....a bottle of coke.

Kate: Exactly.

Silence.

Kate: And yet, I don't really like them.

Me: Yeah. Me neither.

fighting fair.

So, sometimes my husband and I fight. Whaaaa? I know. How original of us.  But we never fight long...because Taylor (my husband) has this irritating way of reminding me what's really important in life. I don't think he means to? I think he just wants to get out of me being mad at him for the rest of the day...but anyway, our "altercations" usually go a little something like this:

Taylor: *Insert something irritating here*

Brittany: "OH. my gosh. I can't be in the same room as you right now."

Taylor: *bear hug me so i'm unable to leave* "Britt! Come on! I was just kidding!"

Brittany: "Taylor! You can't say something like that, that you KNOW will upset me and then just try and hug the anger out of me. It doesn't work like that!"

Taylor: "You're gonna miss this when I'm deployed again..."

Brittany: "....sigh." He's right. I will.

How much do I love this picture? A whole freaking lot.

It's twisted, isn't it?  He doesn't fight fair. But however annoying it is, I'm grateful that he reminds me to cherish the little things about us being together now.  It's been a year and 2 months since he's been home and I feel the anxiety creeping in about him getting deployed again.  It's stupid and so doomsday-ish, but. I am my mother's child--anxiety and I are besties.

I read this story today, and my heart hurts so much for her and her family that I just had to remind myself (yet again) never to take anything for granted.  My worst nightmare, come true.  Hug the people you love! And keep her, and all military families, in your prayers, please.