Tuesday, February 28, 2012

I'm Obnoxious!!

Definition of 'classy': picking stubborn strawberry seeds out of your front teeth with a swiss army pocket knife while in the Mesa Arts Center restroom.
I kinda wish someone [not on staff] had walked in.
I love laughing. And people are pretty cool...sometimes. Showers at the end of the day are amazing but my hair ruins life and won't let me make a habit of it. Waking up with silky tendrils dried into a wacky, distorted mess of kinks and waves that refuse to budge even under the scorching power of the straightener is just not how I want to start all of my days. Call me bonkers.
I had my first bridal meltdown last night. Considering tomorrow will be 10 days till the wedding I say that's pretty reasonable. And for the record, I didn't go all bride-zilla or anything, I just...could not look at one more string of lace or talk about which vase gets the colored sand or what kind of soup we should test next. My sister, mom and I went to Hobby Lobby to buy some white christmas lights (with 40% off coupons! wooo!) and when we got back to the house I handed my mom my bag and [calmly] said, "I'm going to stay out here a couple minutes..." she looked at me weird and asked if I wanted my keys. I said no. They went inside.
And I sobbed for about 15 minutes straight.
I wasn't even sad about anything! Or mad, or upset even. I guess my eyeballs just needed a good rinse, or maybe my brain needed to drain.
I told you guys how I've never been one to sift through my brain and pick out my own distinct opinions. Well, being the bride in your own wedding doesn't allow for much wishy-washy, laidback, carefree behavior. You gotta PICK out all the stuff, even the stuff you didn't even know had any variety to choose from, and not only that but decide how all that stuff is gonna be used; where, how, when. So I guess that was my inner turtle having a belated panic attack temper tantrum.
Glad I'm over it.
My best friend's mother gave me these marvelous, silky soft pajamas from Target for my bachelorette party and I kinda haven't stopped wearing them since. Plus they're actually decent and cute. Unlike wearing my old, dirty sweats and Mark's t-shirt that some mid-sized puppies may as well use as a picnic blanket. Which I will still end up wearing sometimes because I like that, too. But it's nice to not look like a hobo every once in awhile. Basically what I'm saying here is I like to get fancy in my Target pajamas. Which is almost depressing when you put it that way.
Moving on!
I still hear voices constantly in my head...
"Dwarves are very upsetting"
"Little gurgles"
"I never thought I'd be so happy!"
"Children will listen"
"In the first place! Second place?"

They start arguing with each other and yelling at me and I feel like if somebody hooked my brain up to any sort of machine they'd be very afraid and lock me up good and quick.
Oh, mama. It's after 11. It's actually 11:11, what luck. I guess the good thing about running myself ragged is I get super exhausted at night and sleep really good. But my dreams are terrible. Woot apocalyptic death.
But I shall go braid my wet hair now and curl up under my new quilt in my lovely PJ's.
Good night to you.

Monday, February 27, 2012

Bleep Bloop

It's gettin' kinda hard to think actual human thoughts around all these lyrics spanning from Rio to Prince of Egypt to Into the Woods. Not into music? We just basically went salsa to ballad to CRAZY-JUNK-NO-ONE-UNDERSTANDS.
Dear Sondheim,
You're a genius. But I hate you.

Exercising is my friend.
There's that period after working out when apparently you should keep moving but only a bit so as to "cool down" and all I really wanna do is collapse face-first into the dry, crusty dirt...but I don't. I walk around in circles trying to inhale as many water molecules as I can. And THEN there's the part that baffles me. I don't sweat much...at all. While that's awesome in that I don't get lovely conspicuous sweatspots/stains, it also means my natural cooling system is dysfunctional. But once I'm done exercising and I sit down (read: flop on the kitchen tile) then all of a sudden I'm all sticky and moist, like a little kids hands with a summer popsicle. It's unpleasant and satisfying at the same time. Cuz then I finally feel like I actually accomplished any fat-burning.
"Sweat is fat crying" well, my fat has some serious emotional blocking issues and I just need it to go to a therapist or something. Let it out, ya darn flab!!
Boo and a half.
I think I made up a salad. It's really good and I keep eating it but when I list the ingredients it doesn't sound like it should taste good....I chop up some romaine and celery and a whole small apple. Toss that with roasted sunflower seeds and bacon bits and then drizzle this "Sweet and Spicy" light dressing on top (courtesy of Wishbone). Mostly, I guess I didn't expect the sauce to taste good with it. But it's kind of excellent. And it gets me away from Ranch, aka the diabolical achilles heel of my existence.
I hate talking on the phone with people. Even if I know 'em well. Making it the pizza guy just throws me into a panic and I end up trying to order rocks with nacho cheese sauce. But at this moment I'm avoiding calling the florist because I'm afraid she's gonna ask what kind of flowers I want and I'll stammer something unintelligible and they'll give me tumbleweeds tied with goat hair.

I'm really antsy. I wanna start moving my stuff into the apartment and I wanna scrub down every INCH of that place now that it has [FINALLY] been cleared out and freed of others' belongings. But silly boy-o is having his bachelor party today, so I can't even talk to the bloke let alone invade the premises. Blarg. Mostly I want to make that apartment into a home. Our home. I wanna fix it all up and keep it tidy (mostly) and cook little dinners. I desperately want to have my go at being a good wifey. And it's just so close! On wednesday I meet with the Stake President (my church official) to finalize my temple recommend. I got my confirmation letter on my appointment to get my endowments for tuesday the 6th a couple nights ago and I teared up and got real close to legit crying because I'm just so excited and happy and glad Mark and I are doing this the way we believe is right. The way I've wanted to get married since I knew what that even meant. Woot for achieving goals.
"woah-woah, when my baby! when my baby smiles at me I go to Rio! de Janeiro!"

Ok. There. I blogged. TA-DAHH!!

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Oh yeah, hai

Healthy or not, I've recently discovered that I have no patience for pooping. It takes far too long to be any sort of efficient. Plus it smells. How dumb is that?

Annnnnd welcome back to Hope's blogging world, where subject matter seems to spout from sarcasm, indecency and the least amount of dignity possible.
Speaking of which. BB guns are my new favorite thing. If I were Julie Andrews I'd sing about spaghetti, puppies (both small and wriggling, and old and smelly), rain, mud and BB guns. Those are my favorite things. Along with high heels. And a bajillion other things that keep popping into my brain that I would like to list but there's NEVER ENOUGH TIME. I need the days to be more like 30 hours long, not this silly 24hr nonsense. Who the beep can actually be productive in 24 hours? Cuz I'm sure failing.
Yet here I am blogging. CURSES.
Invitations are dumb. Look, people, just come, ok? Do you really need a sappy, foldy-outy color representation of my fiance and I to feel welcome to our night of celebrating and not-touching-each-other-so-we-don't-explode? I keep going back and forth on that. Some days it feels like, "Nah, we'll be fine. We've gone this long, one more day's not gonna make a difference..." and then I have to kiss him and not let it seep into my brain and suddenly it's more like, "PANIC MODE. How is this gonna work? Separate cars? Monty Python chastity belt? No, I just won't brush my teeth...oh right, pictures...bah."
It's a problem!! Welcome to the life of a virgin dawdling on the precipice of celibacy.
But anyway. It's whatever.
This weekend is my bridal shower. I have to sit there looking all feminine, glowy and refined and answer the same questions over and over, possibly yelling at the older attendees so they feel included and heaven knows what awkwardness will spew from my all too willing mouth. Bridal status just really isn't that great for the turtle-hearted. I like my shell lonely and quiet, thank you. BUT I am actually excited. There will be family and friends I haven't seen in a while, plus I'm super grateful for the opportunity to not have to completely supply the inner workings for a new home. WOOT.
That being said...next weekend is my Bachelorette party (which is gonna ROCK MY FEET OFF thanks to the bestest MOH evar!!) and then the weekend after that I'm hustling like a football player the size of a bison trying to get everything in order for THAT coming weekend...."Impending Nuptials", as I'm calling it. As of right now. And then never again because I'll forget.
Every single weekend until May has something smack dab taking up all the stinking space, it's ridiculous. Goodness gracious.
I can't even type there are so many other things I should be doing. That's it for now.

:P thblhtlphblphtplhblh!!