Thursday, April 23, 2009


I took off my shoes and rested my feet on the ottoman as I began watching the Utah Jazz play the Los Angeles Lakers. After a few close calls, the Jazz beat the Lakers 88-86 and I felt satisfied as a Jazz fan for the first time in a long time.

As the game finished, I gathered my belongings to take them downstairs. I picked up one of my shoes, but paused to look at the inside of the shoe's tongue after noticing what looked like a sticker covering the shoe's size tag.

I maneuvered the shoe around to get a better look at the tag. It was then that I noticed I had company. There was a black spider clinging to the black inside of my shoe, right by my hand!

I shuddered and then held my shoe at an appropriate angle, flicked the spider onto the carpet with my finger and then smashed it with its former residence. Sheesh! Don't spiders ever read my blog?! Don't they know that I addressed this very subject two days ago, that I abhor arachnids?

It was a gutsy move for the camouflaged creature whose guts ended up squashed on the floor. I really gave that spider the insides scoop!

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Ghost Vibes and Radio Rings

I'm sure most of us have a felt a cell phone vibrating in a pocket when it wasn't vibrating. I've even had it happen when I didn't have a cell phone. My first couple of weeks of the MTC was replete with phantom cell phone vibes. I kept grabbing for my cell phone, but it was all thigh, baby. The ghost of cell phones past was pulling my leg with the fake shake.

The other fake-out culprit is the radio ring. I've been noticing this one a lot lately. I feel like there's so much background shrapnel going on in some of the songs on the radio these days that I actually think I can hear my cell phone ringing. I turn down the radio and realize no one is really calling–I've been had by the radio ring. But, I do think the additional flare in songs needs to be outlawed, because sure enough, not but thirty seconds after turning up the radio, I have to turn it down again, because it sounds like someone is calling.

FYI, those are pictures of my new cell phone, the LG Versa.

Monday, April 20, 2009

While you are sleeping...

About every other day I wake up and find one or two wolf spiders in the basin of my bathtub. Just so you all know, I am TERRIFIED of creepy crawlers. I'm not talking about the bake-your-own Creepy Crawlers gummy toys that were advertised heavily in my youth (Johnny Mahoney got the oven for Christmas one year).
I'm talking about things like spiders and centipedes, things that you see in your house that may or may not crawl on your face while you sleep.
When somebody told me in junior high that, on average, you swallow twenty-seven bugs and one-and-a-half spiders per year, I freaked out and slept with my head under the covers for about six months. I slept with fear that I would be bitten by a brown recluse and the poison would eat away my nose and I'd have to wear a detachable nose for the rest of my life like the guy I saw on Ripley's Believe it or Not. What, nobody else had that fear?

The "half" of one-and-a-half spiders became a lot more real after my roommate, Ryan, told me that he woke up one morning on his mission in the Philippines and had some legs and part of a wing of a cockroach sticking out of his lips. He realized he had eaten a cockroach that night! He knew transfers were coming up soon so he slept with a sock in his mouth until he was transferred a week later.

My other roommate, Scott, was in the Philippines and a cockroach bit his lip while he was sleeping. His lip suffered significant swelling after the cockroach tore into it with its dirty jaws.

I'm actually getting really creeped out just writing this post. I think if someone were to come up behind me and grab my shoulders and scream or blow on my neck I would accidentally kick my computer off of the couch.

Don't get me wrong, I don't scream like little girl when I see these things, they just give me the willies and make me shiver and make me scared to do certain things. For example, at my old house I used to be very cavalier about sleeping on the floor of the living room. Yeah, I know, it's not a good place to take a nap and you'd think that having your ribs hurt when you wake up would be enough to dissuade such a habit, but it wasn't. I'll tell you what was enough to get me to never sleep on the floor again, though–I saw two wolf spiders that, with their legs, each had the circumference of a clementine orange.

Anyway, at least with the spiders that are always waiting in my bathtub, even though they still give me the heebie-jeebies, I've gotten to the point where I can at least still function, instead of stopping in frozen fear. Now I clean while I kill. I take whatever cleaning agent I can find and spray those suckers down until they wither and die and then turn on the shower until they float down the drain.

Anything to not have to try to grab them with a tissue and risk them crawling out of the tissue onto my hand. Plus, that way my fingers never have to feel chitin crushing and bodies popping through a tissue.

Sunday, April 19, 2009


I was sitting in the kitchen with Mom and Dad this morning and saw an article written in the newspaper about the Oquirrh Mountain Temple.

Mom had been reading earlier about the Draper Temple open house and read aloud that there were 700,000 people that attended the open house. I asked Mom if there were protesters at the open house and she confirmed that there were and told me that the Church had people assigned go take them hot chocolate and cookies.

I told Mom that people shouldn't be allowed to protest at the Oquirrh Temple open house unless they can spell "Oquirrh."

Mom thought most people would try to spell it as "ocher" (see also ochre), a word used primarily by the British to describe a pale brownish yellow color.

Dad thought they would try to spell it as "okra," a plant of the Old World tropics whose immature seedpods are eaten as a vegetable and also used to thicken soups and stews (see also gumbo).

I had nothing meaningful to contribute to the conversation, so I just decided to lead them into a joke with an oldie but goodie, "What's green and sings?" Elvis Parsley.

Followed by, "What's green and has its own TV show?" Okra Winfrey (wocka, wocka, wocka)

Monday, April 13, 2009

Steep and Cheap

Tommy introduced me to a little over a year ago. It's a company based out of Salt Lake that sells items for the outdoorsy niche at deep discounts. They sell items for about 15 minutes or until they run out, and then start selling a new item. They bank on people making impulse purchases by feeding fears that items will be gone if purchases aren't made immediately.

I've only bought one item on the web site, but I'm on the mailing list for the company, so everyday I get a funny e-mail from them called "The Daily Dose." I don't read every Daily Dose, but I've found a few gems. The other week, I received this one about blogs that I wanted to share because I thought it was pretty funny.

One of my friends sends me e-mails every couple days to let me know that he's posted new items to his blog. It's like, hey man, the whole point of having a blog is so that you don't have to e-mail me with news all the time. It makes it easier to ignore what's going on with you in one convenient place. I've read that an average blog gets one reader, which makes sense. After all, some blogs have hundreds of thousands of readers, so there must be hundreds of thousands of blogs with no readers.

Friday, April 3, 2009

In My Dreams

So, I hardly ever remember dreams, but I remembered one this morning. The dream just goes to show how nerdy I am, even while I'm sleeping.

There were a lot of crazy things happening in the dream, but to cut a long story short, I dreamed I was on campus helping a girl in the accounting program with something in Excel.

When I came back from the computer lab my roommates were giving me a hard time saying, "So what's going on between you and her anyway? I think she likes you!"

I looked at my roommates and said, "Helping out a girl with Excel isn't exactly a formula for love."

Wait, what? Why was I thinking in pun while I was sleeping? And more importantly, why did I have a dream I was helping someone with Excel. Nerd alert! From now on, I don't want to be thinking about anymore spreadsheets in my bedsheets.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Lunch with President & Sister Callister

It's always good to see the Callisters. It always brings back a flood of memories of my mission and listening to President Callister unfold doctrines of the Restoration at zone conferences and interviews. He always has the most interesting stories could always keep missionaries listening with rapt attention. As I got to work closer with him, I also discovered that he has an appreciation for bad puns and could keep going with puns after mine were exhausted. One of my favorite moments was at my farewell lunch when he got my attention at the tepanyaki grill to make sure I was listening before he shared a pun with the rest of the table.

Currently, Elder Callister is serving as a counselor in the Pacific Islands area presidency. He lives in Aukland, New Zealand and his assignment covers many islands in the Pacific, such as Tonga, Papua New Guinea, Australia, Somoa, the Marshall Islands, Kirabus, Fiji, Vanuatu, and many others.

During lunch, President Callister was telling me about the island of Vanuatu where they speak a language called Bislama, a type of pigeon English. My roommate sophomore year served there and they would say things like, “Me name Elder Robertshaw. ‘Dis be da Book Mormon,” etc.

President Callister said that on the island they have a problem where husbands are beating their wives and children. So, a member of the Seventy was speaking at a conference there and said, “Brethren, do not beat your wives or children.”

The speaker then heard the translator say, “Bredren, do not kill wives and children.”

The general authority stopped and said to the translator, “That’s not what I said. I said, ‘Do not beat your wives and children. I didn't say kill.’”

The translator said, “Yeah, but that’s how we say beat, ‘do not kill wives and children.’”

The general authority asked, “How would you say, ‘murder your wives and children?’”

Then the translator said, “Oh, for that you say, ‘Do not kill ‘em ‘til they dead wives and children.’”

So, if you're ever on Vanuatu, make sure you are distinct with your terminology.