Today I took this picture:

Then, after removing the fish-eye attachment and attempting to replace the lens cap, it slipped out of my hand, bounced twice on the wooden deck and jumped over the guard rail into the water. I was quite upset at myself, but after realizing it hadn't sunk and the water was pretty still (thus it stayed in the same place) I ran to the nearest aquarium employee seeking aid. After being assured they'd send someone with a net, I went back to the scene of the accident to keep an eye on the helpless victim. I waited and waited and waited. It slowly moved under the boat, then came back out and just as it was about to disappear under the dock, a man with a net attached to a long pole came out and rescued my cheap, but irreplaceable, lens cap from the green, slimy depths of the Albuquerque Aquarium pond. I took the lens cap, and as I wiped it clean with the sleeve of my sweatshirt, I said with determination and sincerity, "Thank you!" He said, "You're welcome," and nothing else. I kinda laughed to fill the silence as I looked down at my feet and walked away. I felt like I needed to say more, but what? The gap of time I had to say something else was about 2 seconds, and it passed in silence. I've never been good at verbalizing things, whether it be gratitude, love, praise, sorrow, or anger (Though I sure do verbalize things when I'm angry, it just never sounds good.) Give me a piece of paper and pen and I have no problem saying exactly what I want. But out loud? On the spot? Nope. I feel bad though. I'm really grateful for that man, but he probably doesn't know it. I guess I should write the aquarium a note.

I bought a song from a movie soundtrack online today. As I listened to it I thought, "This is a good Christmas-time song. I'll have to remember to play it when it's Christmas soon." But in an instant my mental calendar flashed in front of me and I realized Christmas was over. What happened? I feel like I missed it. But I was there. I saw the tree, heard the carolers, ate the cookies, smelled the peppermint, felt the wrapping paper. But some how I still missed it. Or maybe there just wasn't enough of it. School crowds into it on both sides-- finals on one side, new classes on the other. I think that's bogus. There is a severe need for more Christmas. Or maybe less school. Or both. Yeah. Both.

If you're ever looking for a way to make the aquarium more exciting, just take some cold medicine before you go. Holy wow, I felt like I was in the fish tanks and the kids were tapping on the glass and there was a strobe light going off. The jelly fish area was especially hallucinatory.
The fact that I was drowning in my own fluids also helped the overall experience.


i promised i wouldn't post my stop-motion short until someone else *cough*catherine*cough* posts hers (which, p.s., she hasn't even started yet). But here's a picture to tie you over as you anxiously await the next production to come from E.Go Studios.

i know, right?

At work, we always jokingly type in headlines that we know the editors will kill (a.k.a. make us change) before the paper goes to print. Apparently the web editors at CNN didn't think this one needed any adjustments. You can't blame 'em. They're working on Christmas, they needed a little pick-me-up.

I feel pretty awful when something bad happens to someone else. That's what's I'm supposed to feel, yes? But sometimes something bad happening to someone else makes me happy. No, not because I have a vendetta against them or I like to see people suffer--heavens no. But sometimes something kind of unfortunate for one person means something awesome for me. --- Wow, that sounds even more selfish and awful typed out than it did in my head. It makes a lot more sense and makes me sound like less of a jerk if I were to actually explain the situation. But seeing as this is a public blog, I better keep it vague and just allow the world to see me as a self-centered, heartless wench without a soul. Eh. It could be worse.

i mean, i could have this face. oh wait.....


Happy Christmas from Texas!
[For more pho-to-graphs of mine, click here.]


You know when you feel your phone vibrate just to pick it up and realize it wasn't vibrating? I experience that at least twice a day. I think there's something wrong with me.

You know how during finals week everyone and their dog posts fifty-bajillion status updates about the finals they've taken, are going to take, or their dog is going to take? This week was finals week and I didn't mention it at all. I hardly care, why would anyone else? I think there's something right with me.

You know when you're really bummed out and you want to feel sad but something is telling you there's no reason to be? Well, sometimes that voice is wrong and there is a reason and I just want to feel sad for a little bit. And that's OK with me.

You know how college students say they "bleed blue" or "bleed purple" or whatever, depending on their school colors? I bet U of U students feel pretty silly when they have to say, "I bleed red," because other people are probably thinking, "Well of course you do. Genius."

You know when you're typing a Word document and you spell something wrong and a jagged red line appears beneath it? Sometimes when I'm writing in my journal I expect that line to appear below my handwriting. I'm always disappointed.

You know what makes Christmas, CHRISTMAS in my mind?
  • Ginger cookies
  • The Cajun Night Before Christmas
  • Ornaments from Grandma Deon
  • Bingo on Christmas Eve
  • Thin mints in my stocking
  • A really haggard picture of all of us on Christmas morning (except Thomas, because he always makes us wait so he can shower.)
  • Watching movies with Catherine from 4 a.m. until everyone else wakes up.
  • Breakfast burritos
  • Family. Of course.
  • Realizing that no matter what else happens, my Savior will always be there. He lives. His life, His Atonement, His death and His resurrection are what make everything possible. Everything. Surely it is true that by small and simple means--a baby in a manger 2,000 years ago--great things are brought to pass. Things we can't even comprehend. I think my head would explode if I was able to fully comprehend it all right now. Yeah, that great of things. Woah.
Merry Christmas!


My little buddy Mason. Well, we're not real buddy-buddy yet, but he's getting more used to me. He's a crack up. He looks like a different member of the family depending on the angle, huh?

Tucker was a little less focused on Indiana Jones than Hayden. ;o)



Finals were this week. On Monday I had two, both scheduled and both essay format. After conquering the first, I came home to study for the second one and was met by the strong desire to make balloon animals instead. And I did. And I liked it! (That was meant to be said in a voice resembling that of Michael 'Squints' Palledorous.)

Lions 1 and 2.

The monkeys proved to be the most difficult. The lion with the mane worked fine, but that green monkey looks more like an alligator -- especially with those fangs. I appropriately deemed it a zombie monkey because of the ambiguity of its form.

I discovered I'd make a mediocre clown and that there are way too many grown men making YouTube videos about how to make balloon animals. As for MFG 201? Well, I'm sure my test scores will reflect how hard I studied...


Katie, Kyle, and I went to lunch today for our December birthdays. I think it's fun that we've known each other since 9th grade and still hang out every once in a while. ;o)

I don't know where Katie was on graduation day ... I was only there visiting after being at BYU for a semester. Huh. Wait, she graduated early too, I think. Yeah. Huh.

Fall 2006
Christina, Molly, Katie and I holding Kyle. Cuuuute.

I know I have pictures of us Poulsbo/Kingston kids at dances and stuff somewhere. I gotta find those, they're pretty great.

Looking back, I sure was blessed with a lot of really good friends in high school. Some people get a few years away from their teenage years and say things like, "Man, high school was horrible." or, "I'm so glad I'm not a high schooler any more." I've said that about junior high, but high school was really good. I wasn't part of the so-called "in" crowd, but I didn't want to be because I was in with THE crowd.
Ha. Yeah. I had and have some really good friends. No booze, no sex, no alcohol, no peer pressure. Just stake dances, early morning seminary, game days, movie nights, Central Market, inside jokes, and outside lunches.


I turned 22 on the 8th. After getting home from work, my roommates (Kathryn and Sarah), friend Jordan, and I had brownies, ice cream, and pizza. I'm not much into parties any more, so it was perfect.

p.s. Relient K's Christmas album (Let is Snow ... Let it Reindeer) is great. G-R-8.

12.9.09 #2

This looks like a keeper. ;o) It comes out on the 18th. Rated PG.


"A BYU Greek Tragedy"
As promised.
And the critics are raving, truly. My professor even liked it. (No doubt a great shock to me. A score of 195/200? Shut up!)
Please laugh. Please ridicule it. If I made it to be taken seriously, I wouldn't have made it.



As much as I hate the snow, it does make me feel like our apartment is more like a home, that my roommates and ward members are more like my family, and Christmas really is coming.

I went to the Creamery last night to get milk. On the way home, with hood up, mittens on and head down, I was just concentrating really hard on not falling on my ice--i mean, the ice. A car pulled up next to me and a girl my age shouted to me, "Wanna ride?" Obviously, my first instinct is to say, "Nah, I'm good. Thanks!" She asked if I was sure and I assured her I was sure. As she drove away after the 3 second encounter, I realized why I had said no. It's not because of the dozens of lessons and lectures from pre-school to junior high that taught me never to get into a stranger's car. No, instead I thought to myself, "I don't want to get a ride from her. I'd have to make small talk. I hate small talk."

Yeah. So I guess all I have to do with my kids is express to them the horrors of awkward small talk with strangers and they'll run screaming from any stranger's car.

I really like this idea. I should do that. I WILL do that. Over the break.

Happy birthday to me!

[get it? i'm 22. ha.]


"Stories only happen to those who are able to tell them." -- Paul Auster

Is there anything that sounds more ridiculous, when it's supposed to sound serious, than "Hail to the Chief"? I submit there is not.

I'm sitting at the airport on the thin window sill, a handrail in my back, waiting for my flight that leaves in an hour. Directly in front of me is a couple, dressed as if about to climb a mountain and sleep in a tent. They seem nice enough. But any kind thoughts I have for them are clouded by the fact that they have taken a bench of 3 seats and pulled it toward themselves so they not only have a place for their back-sides, but their feet also. Heaven forbid I should want a seat without a rod sticking into my back if that means imposing on the comfort of their feet. Seriously? They look like they could hibernate on a pile of rocks, and yet they need six seats for two people. Nice.
Update: An old man, bless his soul, came over a few minutes after I wrote the above statement and pulled the bench right out from under their feet. He smiled and made an inaudible comment, then he sat down and read his newspaper. He's got the right idea: don't blog about your people-problems. Do something about them. But I have to say, people forgive you a lot easier when you're either very young or very old. They must assume you're incoherent or crazy. I can't wait for those days.


Coming soon: 

"A BYU Greek Tragedy"
Starring Barbie and Ken as Molly Mormon and Peter Priesthood

Critics are raving.


Thanksgiving was awesome. In part because of this little face, and the other one that looks just like it.


Thoughts on a Sunday night:

Do you ever wonder how you can miss someone you've never met? I do.

Why is it that I feel the need to use an expenentially larger amount of exclamation points when writing to females? Especially ones I don't know very well? I could tell you why, because I know why, but it's much too tiring to write.


Sincerity is in my top five favorite attributes. Think about when someone genuinely says, "Have a good night." Not in passing, not in a habitual farewell, but with real caring in their voice, says, "Hey, have a good night." My night is good, because they said it.

Yeah, I really like sincerity.

I used to be afraid that as I grew older, things of my childhood would lose their excitement. Like Christmas and birthdays and getting your favorite food for dinner. In some ways it's true. I can sleep pretty well on Christmas Eve. My birthday isn't as special as it was when I woke up to my mom singing "Happy Birthday" into a wooden spoon. And if I want my favorite food, I go out and buy it myself, whether it's 4 in the afternoon or 4 in the morning. But I think something more awesome has taken the place of my excitement for events. I get excited about the people. When Kelsey came to Provo in September, I couldn't sleep the night before. This week I'm going to Texas for Thanksgiving. I don't like Texas very much and turkey is all well and good, but it's getting to see my mom and dad and Catherine and Ben and Kelsey that is making my stomach do flips. And the thought of Charlie hugs, Rora jokes and Twin giggles. For Christmas I'll get to see Sarah, Devon, Spencer and James, and that's when James will get to see his favorite aunt again! And in December I'm going to New Mexico. I've never been there before, but that's not what I'm counting down the days 'til. It's getting to see Deon and Dillan and their boys, Conner and Scotty, and hear them say "Aunt Dizzy" (or "Dippy," whatever works). This weekend I didn't do much, but I did go to see "New Moon" with Anna. It was the best Friday night I've had in a long time. And yesterday I hung out with Thomas. When he said he was free to go take pictures with me, it, well, it felt good. I can't explain it. I love it when Gabe invites me to play Guitar Hero. We may be 12 years apart, but playing the Wii, we're equals. ;o) Well, until Brianna, Hayden, Tucker and Mason decide I'm the monster and tackle me.

I love my family. Big, loud, sarcastic, hungry, and they're all mine. That's what I get excited for now. Not for presents or Christmas music or chicken enchiladas, but seeing my family and knowing we've got each others' backs and we're together forever. Whether we like it or not. Luckily, I don't like it.

I love it.


See more pictures of my studly brother here.


"Everything makes sense when you're with me." --Relient K, "Savannah"

I've never been to Europe, but when I think about my future, I have this romanticized vision of living in  Europe. Or at least somewhere with a very European feel -- I guess just about anywhere but the cinder block apartment complex I live now. I don't know where this feeling has come from. Maybe too many Jane Austen movies, too many Michael Buble and Jamie Cullum albums, maybe too many years of dreaming and planning and so little doing. In my head there is a daydream playing on repeat, of white-washed walls and yellow dishes. Of corner markets and mom & pop shops. Of a journal full of more answers than of questions. Of not flying solo, but of having someone to share my laughter with, my dessert, my laundry detergent. This doesn't sound very European, does it? But maybe because both things are foreign to me, Europe and my future life, my mind has combined both together. And both are things I'd sure like to have.

So, Europe, I'll get there someday. And you, whoever you are, we're gonna share a really good life. Laundry detergent and all.


Yeah, I should hope it would ship for free.

[Something to ponder:]
"The length of a film should be directly related to the endurance of the human bladder."
  - Alfred Hitchcock


"Every single night for the past month, I wake up ... and I'm reaching out.

For what?

I don't know. 
It's right outside the door, around the corner. 
But it's comin'!"


OK, so I realize most of you don't like the same kind of music as I do, but I'll post this anyway.

A locally based on-line magazine, Rhombus, made a compilation of local musicians and is giving away free downloads of the eclectic sampling of Provo's indie-scene. So, check it out. Hey, it's free. And maybe you'll even like some of them.

I mean, I do.

Click here. Eh?


I was thinking today about going outside and taking pictures with my new camera. Then I thought I'd also like to listen to my new album, the soundtrack from "Away We Go." But, then I realized it'd be kind of a hassle to have ear buds in and the camera strap around my neck and all -- too much going on, you know? Then it occured to me, "I wish I could just have music playing without ear buds. Like, so that I just hear it as I walked around. Like using the speaker phone instead of holding it up to you ear." And then I thought, "Oh yeah. They have that. It's called speakers."

I took the seat next to the power outlet on Tuesday in my religion class. The kid that usually sits there walked in, saw me, and he started to pout. And it was a serious pout. His hands were hanging down, and he raised them slightly just so he could throw them down in a huff. Really, kid? There are other power outlets. I'd hate to see him when someone does something actually bad to him, like takes the last cookie from mommy's cookie jar. What a hard life he must lead.

So, my new camera came in the mail yesterday. I've been waiting a couple years to be able to afford it, so it's kind of a big deal. I pulled it out of the box, then out of the mesh wrapping, then out of the bubble wrap. I set it on my lap and just stared. "It's mine," I thought. "All mine. I get to keep it." It was like I'd given birth to it or something. So, future kids, just imagine how much more I'll love YOU. I mean, if I reverence a camera like it's the Holy Grail, my kids are gonna suffocate with all the love I have for them.

Today I took a test. After studying for over an hour (which, p.s., is a big deal. Usually I study for about 20 minutes for tests and come away with a 90% or better). And guess what I got on said test? A 78%. You'd think I'd cry or at least be fuming with a fiery fury (you like that alliteration?). But no. I just stared, a blank stare actually. I couldn't quite process the number. Really? A 78? Really? I think there's been a mistake. Or I'll make you make a mistake ... that didn't make sense.


ten things that make me happy.
[forgive me if i've said some of these before. my memory is failing me, as it usually does.]

1) the thought of being home in 12 days.
2) wind and autumn leaves and my hair all mixed together.
3) when my phone vibrates just when i was feeling all alone in the world.
4) flowers, bows and feathers for my hair.
5) fake mustaches.
6) spelling a hard word on the computer and no jagged, red line appearing underneath it.
7) sweatshirts. the kind with hoods.
8) mail. the good kind, not the junk kind.
9) watching 'Robin Hood' with my roommates.
10) the thought of 2010. i have a feeling i'm going to love that year.

11) playing board games via skype with my family.

[screen shot taken by ben of me playing the harmonica for them in between rounds of trivial pursuit]

[catherine was stumped apparently. crazy canadians.]


Today is the 40th anniversary of Sesame Street. These are two of my favorite videos. Which ones do you remember the most?

[i still sing this song in my head when anyone ever says "12." ;o)]


Once upon a time I went for a scooter ride. While driving through an intersection, a car attempted to turn left in front of me--as in, he was facing me, yielding on green, but decided he'd had enough yielding. Well, good thing my brakes work, or else I would've T-boned him and ended up looking like ground beef.

Then, later that day, I was out-and-about on my scooter and it was dark outside ... because it was nighttime. I noticed out of the corner of my eye a large object moving across the street toward me--as in, larger than a bread box. It was a biker trying to cross the street in front of me, maybe trying to make a left turn onto the side street. As I swerved around his idiocy, I yelled out, "Sorry!" and made a horrifically horrified face. "Wait a second," I thought, "I shouldn't be apologizing." He should be thanking me for showing him (without a fatality) what can happen to bikers who think they rule the road. Even a lowly scooter like mine could turn him into oatmeal.

I'm hungry.

words i dispise:
hubby (for "husband")
bestie (for "best friend")
pissed (ugly word)
aunt (said like "ont")
chick (for "a girl")

You know what's good? Knock-off brand Oreos and Creamery skim milk. It's so good, I had a dream about it last night.

Seriously, I'm so hungry.

p.s. 30 days until my birthday.


i discovered a sign on my forehead today. i've had a feeling it was there before, but today it was confirmed. it says, "boys: tell me your girl problems."

i don't mind it too awfully much, but you wouldn't think so many would heed a sign on a girl's forehead, a girl they hardly know. but they do. and they talk. and i listen. and we walk. and i wonder, how can i get rid of this sign and get another that says, "boys: ask me out. i'm awesome."



I was contemplating doing this to a pair of my jeans ... not sure what i was thinking. My hips don't need that kind of accentuating. ;o)

I think I've fallen in love. With Jimmy Smith. From "Thoroughly Modern Millie." By-jingo.

(Catherine! Remember when we used to speed up the record player and listen to this song? "Franks-Franks!" Ba ha ha ha!)

And I just discovered he also plays Mr. Salt (Veruka's father) in "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." Ha ha. Well, I still think he's adorable in his younger days.


There is something oddly thrilling about having food in your cupboards. Usually I think, "Shoot, what the heck am I going to eat?" and then not eat at all because either nothing sounds appetizing or I literally don't have any food. But today I went grocery shopping and all day thoughts have been popping into my head like, "Oh! I could eat a sandwich for dinner. Or mashed potatoes and gravy! Oh, and I have apples and miniature bananas. Mmm, bananas. And yogurt!"

Apparently I'm a simpleton, because I find such great happiness in the simplest of things.

We better be able to eat in heaven, or eternity is gonna be really boring. ;o)
This is the trailer for the movie, "Bright Star." It's based on the romance of the poet John Keats and a woman named Fanny Brawn.


Bit of a conversation I overheard today:

Socially awkward guy, in a low voice trying to sound like more of a man: "Do you have a cellular?"

Socially sheltered girl, in high-pitched flirty voice: "Of course! ... Oooo, yours is so sleek!"

Guy, with an even deeper voice: "Yeah..."


"Somewhere someone is traveling furiously toward you,
At incredible speed, traveling day and night,
Through blizzards and desert heat, across torrents,
through narrow passes.
But he will know where to find you,
Recognize you when he sees you."

--john ashberry ["At North Farm"]

Short, non-fiction, story:
(meant to be comical, above all else.)

Last night I decided at 9:30 p.m. that I was going to see a movie. By myself. On my scooter. In the rain. But with no homework to do and all my roommates gone, it was a good idea. I drove up University Avenue and arrived at the theater. There were about 30 cars in the parking lot and at least 4 people working. It was a very slow Wednesday night. I gave the guy my ticket, which he tour poorly, ripping half of the movie title off. In a monotone voice he said, "Down the hall. Last theater on the right." I got into the auditorium and, to my delight, I was the only one there. I picked the seat in the exact middle of the theater, my helmet and scarf sat to my left.

The movie was amazing. It made me smile, made me cry, made me fall in love John Keats' poetry, ripped my heart out and increased my adoration of England and British accents. (The movie is called "Bright Star." Go see it.) I sat through all the credits, listening to the beautiful poetry of John Keats read over top cello music. I wiped away the tears, picked up my helmet, put on my jacket, checked my phone for missed calls (none) and headed out of the theater. It was 12:15 a.m.

I walked down the hall, glancing around one corner to see a long hall way ending in glass doors that lead to the parking lot. Unsure of whether that was close to where my scooter was parked, I kept walking to the main lobby. To my surprise, it was completely dark and the exit was blocked off. My heart beat a little faster as I realized I was all alone.

Oh my gosh, I was all alone. In a dark theater. In the middle of the night.

I'm pretty sure that's when people get murdered and the custodian finds their body the next day in a trash can, covered in popcorn and Raisinettes.

I don't even like Raisinettes!

Turning quickly on my heal, I practically sprinted back to the other hallway ending in glass doors. One door was propped open slightly. As I pushed on it, I glanced out into the parking lot. All the cars were gone. All of them. My scooter sat alone in the middle of a vast expanse of blacktop. I knew that was the place people got murdered. But there is no body, or if they do find one, it's in a ditch or a river a year later.

My heart was pounding as I scanned the area, looking for anyone who might pose a threat. I clutched the sharpest key on my key chain between my index and middle fingers, ready to jab it into the eye of an attacker. I shoved my helmet onto my over-sized head, only to realize with a gasp of terror that it deafened me and blocked my peripheral vision. My breathing had now matched the pace of my wildly beating heart.

"I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die. I can't see, I can't hear, I'm gonna die."

With shaking fingers I struggled to zip up my jacket. I wrapped my scarf around my neck, my keys still tight between my fingers. With a moment of hesitation, I released the grip on my keys to put them in the ignition and pull on my gloves. My heart was on the verge of exploding as it reached the pace of a humming bird's.

"No one will even hear me scream. I CAN'T scream! My helmet is blocking my mouth! I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die..."

It was raining and my seat was wet, but because I valued my life more than my pants, I jumped on the scooter anyway and, had it not been raining and the asphalt slippery, I would've sped away. Still nervous of an attacker, I whipped my head back and forth as I cruised through the parking lot, scanning the trees and bushes for any sign of movement.

My breathing slowed and my heart relaxed as I got onto University Avenue.

I had survived.

So, my Facebook photo uploading application hates me, so I'm going to post pictures here instead. Here are some from Amy and Jared's wedding in September.

Kelsey and me at the reception.

Jared and Amy with some stellar facial hair.



Gent and Ellie. They swiped a couple bride's maids' bouquets.


Elder Boyd K. Packer said this:

“I’m not ashamed to say that … I want to be good. And I’ve found in my life that it has been critically important [to establish this intention] between me and the Lord so that I knew that he knew which way I committed my agency. I went before Him and said, ‘I’m not neutral, and you can do with me what you want. If you need my vote, it’s there. I don’t care what you do with me, and you don’t have to take anything from me because I give it to you—everything, all I own, all I am—,’ and that makes the difference.” (“To Those Who Teach in Troubled Times,” address delivered at seminary and institute conference, Summer 1970, Salt Lake City.)


"I promise you kid to give so much more than I get,
I just haven't met you yet."

--michael buble

michael buble

how can you not fall in love with this guy? really.

his new album comes out TOMORROW. mmm, yeah.


Consider these:

"The only useful knowledge is that which betters us."

"The unexamined life is not worth living."

"Know thyself."


short story:

It's amazing what crying can do to a person. Some say it's exhausting, that it "takes it out of you." I can see that. Well, I know that, actually. But lately, when I cry, I'm filled with a new kind of energy. I'd like to be able to cry myself to sleep, but instead I cry and lay there, wide awake in the dark. My eyes feel worn out, like my muscles do after working in the yard for several hours. But it's a satisfying feeling amidst the tenderness of the skin. My eyes feel big, like they're protruding out of my face. But "protruding" is such a harsh word, and the feeling is not a harsh one. Under my cheeks and nose I can feel my sinuses tighten and relax. That too, is oddly satisfying. My head feels clearer after I weep. My body feels cleansed. What crying takes out of you is tears and snot. And what it lets out of you is emotions you didn't realize were so strong, cares you didn't realize were so important. For me, crying releases things from within you that are no longer needed while creating a resolve within you to take what you still need and make it better, more important, more treasured. It's amazing what crying can do to a person.

dahlias? yes, please.
[found at StudioChoo.com]


Song lyrics I've enjoyed this week:

"She's so strange and she wore a black mustache.

And she pilfered all the petty cash.

... She's so cool and she knew just what to do.
And while all the cats are sniffing glue
They played their silly games and now they'll take the blame."

--"She's So Strange" by Travis

"The silence isn't so bad
'til I look at my hands and feel sad,
Cause the spaces between my fingers are
right where yours fit perfectly."

-- "Vanilla Twilight" by Owl City

"I am waiting for someone who gonna love me.
Waiting. Mmmmm, for someone who gonna need me, love me, and take care of me.
Hold me, so won't be lonely.
Waiting, waiting, can't you see why?"

--"Waiting" by Harry Nilsson


Who knew two fake mustaches could be so much fun? Well, now you know.
[kelsey and me after winning 143 tickets at the nickelcade]