A Little More Latin Than Necessary

I love latin dancing. As I am a short white girl, you may ask how this came to be. Well this guy from my ward in Illinois was like, "Hey, I need help learning how to salsa dance. Help me." And I was like, "Sweet. I love dancing." So then we started learning. And he took me to this place called Salsa Chocolate where there is much dancing and happiness. Then he dropped off the face of the planet (as in he got a girlfriend) and I didn't do so much dancing. Then my cousin was all like, "Hey, I need help learning how to salsa dance. Help me." And I was like, "Sweet, I love dancing and I kinda know what I'm doing." So then I started helping him learn how to dance. But I'm his cousin, so he's not very good at dancing with me outside of specified practice time. But still, because of that I started going to salsa club on Tuesdays. Then I forced my roommate to learn how to do some basic social latin, and we went to Salsa Chocolate with my cousin and a few friends from the ward. Which was fine and dandy. All kinds of fun. Then I met an Asian who wanted to practice salsa with me, and I was like, "Sweet. I love dancing, and I hopefully I don't disappoint." (He was a ballroom dancing at UVU for awhile; i.e. good dancer). So me and my roommate went back to Salsa Chocolate again, this time with our Asian. Which was mostly fine and dandy. Until.....

The Roommmate's Trauma Story

There was this guy (there are a lot of them actually), but he was phenomenally attracted to her long, blond, glorious hair, and her curvalicious body. So she danced a billion dances with this guy (which really means he asked a billion times, and she couldn't always escape) . He says things like, "You're the most beautiful girl in this room." And tells her not to go on a mission, that all of the guys want to propose to her, and that she should stay. And that she was the most beautiful girl in the world. And that they had a song, and that he would wait for her. He added her on Facebook. And asked if she remembered him. In her words, "How could I forget?" I mean, he got as close to a marriage proposal as is possible for knowing someone for only one evening. 

And then there was....

My Trauma Story

So there's this little latin guy, who I have danced with a lot over the course of the my Salsa Chocolate and salsa club experience. And every time we dance he got a little closer. And so I try to avoid dancing with him much, and do my best when we do dance to avoid too much closeness. I do my best, but it's incredibly difficult. In any event, this past Thursday night was serious escalation. It wasn't so bad for most of the evening. I had avoided him pretty well for the most part. But then, I was sitting, and it was late, and it was fine and dandy. Then he came and sat next to me and we started talking and stuff, and that was still pretty alright. Then he asked me to dance. And it should have been a dance that's hard to get close in. But he made it a different dance. So I was trying very hard to not let him get as close as he was trying to. And he essentially almost kissed me once. Then... he says,

"What are you doing after this?"

"Sleeping," I say as my heart skips a panicked beat.

"Well would you like to get some food, or something?" 

"Uh, no thank you..." I say, hoping that's enough.

"Why not?" he asks slightly pouty like.

"Well, I need to get up in the morning and move." Which is the absolute truth. And then he asks for a second dance. I notice roommate has been dancing with proposal man. I say, "No thanks, we're actually leaving." So I steal roommate from proposal man and we book it out of there. Why is this so traumatizing (other than tendency toward way too much physical)? Because this little Latin guy is well over forty. That's why. He's more than twice my age. Could be my father. And I know that I've been mistaken for the mother of my fourteen year old brother, but still....

Think Digestive Thoughts

You know that feeling when you've completely overstuffed yourself and you feel fat? Not like, "Oh I'm such a pig and I am grotesquely obese and I look fat" fat, but like, "Go my oodness my stomach is distended and I feel fat" fat. Yeah, that happens to me frequently. And of course, whenever this happens one must so say with the phrase, "I am feeling fat, and sassy" (because some of us can't avoid being sassy). So I was out with my engineering friend for dinner at a delicious restaurant (Banana Leaf. Super good. Go there.), and I ate tons of food really good. So then I was like, "I am feeling fat, and sassy." And he says, "Just think digestive thoughts." I laughed. Because that's hilarious. But then I began to think. And the more I thought about, the more I liked it. I eventually came to the conclusion that it was brilliant. In fact, it should be the new way to lose weight. I mean people are all about having healthy metabolisms, or getting their metabolism started in the morning with a good breakfast and stuff of that sort. So mind over matter, right? Think digestive thoughts. Think enough, and you can make your body digest more and better. Who needs a naturally speedy and healthy metabolism? Who  needs liposuction?  Using the power of our thoughts, we can become slim, healthy people. Easiest and least expensive weight loss product ever. Kind of like FDR did his fireside chats, we can have Michelle Obama do a weekly Digestive Thoughts program. That would help tremendously with our nation's obesity problem. And then we can make apps and programs for our smart phones and tablets to guide our digestive thoughts. Then we can move from digestive thoughts to active thoughts. We can think about running, swimming, dancing, football, etc. to complement our good digestion. Then we can think thoughts about thinking to make ourselves smarter too. We can do anything if we just believe. So, let's get started thinking ourselves some digestive thoughts.

Chapter 91: In Which The Roommate Brings Home A Boy... Who Isn't Her Boyfriend

Let's preface this by the text I got from her earlier today. "Is there a proper way to respond when someone professes love to you...and isn't your boyfriend?" I thought this was rather odd. Truly. But then I came home from work, and walk in to find my roommate and a boy on the couch. My immediate reaction is that hey, it's the 30 year old boyfriend. But then it is clearly not. This guy is blond, not bald. He is introduced as that one guy in her physiology class that she talks about all the time. And then the whole professed love thing made sense. Apparently it's not terribly unusual during the massage trains in their class together. So. They are studying, which truly they are (no funny business, don't worry, 30 year old boyfriend). And they seem to be happy, and well fed. Because before leaving for work I had left a chicken breast out to thaw. I come home, thinking that either it would still be there, waiting to be loved and made into deliciousness, or that the roommate would have made it into something. And she did. And she and he freaking ate it all. So I need to study for a final, and I need to eat, because I never really ate lunch, even though I was going to have roast.... so now I'm like, "Go my osh, they ate my food and are super loud and I'm horrible at studying when there are people here." So I decided to write a blog post about it because I'm whiny. And then secretly what they're doing is studying randomly interspersed with interesting and good conversation. So nothing is accomplished on my end but vague frustration. Which continues to be the case, as he leaves, and my roommate does her D&C final. Which should be good, because peace and quiet, right? Good for studying. No. Apparently all I want to do is talk and avoid studying for this final. Which I imagine wouldn't be terribly difficult if it weren't for the very insistent nagging voice in my head telling me to make good decisions with my life, as I have thus far failed to do so. But I will prevail! Hopefully in the making good life decision direction...

Chapter 22: In Which Being Upside Down Is Introduced

So I coach gymnastics, which is all kinds of fun. And today me and my roommate worked out together. Part of my quasi regular routine is handstand push-ups. So naturally I had to teach her to do handstands. We used the wall for this, because that's the easiest way to do handstand push-ups. And it's much safer for everyone involved. It was quite the adventure. She did eventually get it, but on the journey there were several moments of uncertainty. Screams, hysterical laughter, collapsing, the possibility of imminent death once or twice.... But it was good! Learning new skills is so useful. I mean, how would being able to flip yourself upside down be not helpful in real life? For instance. When my roommate loses oh say.... her paycheck. Or her keys. Or her temple recommend. In the dumpster. Now she will be able to ninja-like flip herself into the dumpster, instead of the awkward climbing that usually accompanies such situations. Or when you see some money on the ground. What's the best way to get to it? Bend down and pick it up? Of course not! You cartwheel and grab it at the same time. Or what if the ground is super nasty and you don't want to get your feet gross? Walk on your hands! Or when you're in a crowded club and you want to impress the humanoid of your choice, how would you do that? Look sexy and smile invitingly? No, don't be ridiculous. Backflip! Or say you want to hear what your friend is saying about you to that attractive person over there. Casually enter the conversation? No! Spiderman hang. Oh yeah.

Return of the Leprosy

My body does not love me. Imagine how much you do not love termites or cockroaches. Imagine how much plant life does not love the desert. Imagine how much you do not love something you do not love. That is how my body does not love me. I am a leper. And it is getting worse. Not just getting worse from the getting better that previously it was, but extending beyond the condition it had been in to one that is worse. So, so much for my antibiotics and steroid creams. Oh well. It's just pain.

Chapter 57: In Which Well That Was Weird

Sometimes I never really talk about my roommate except briefly. Then she becomes a porn star, and now I have an entire blog post devoted to her weekend (which secretly includes Monday). We begin with boyfriend who buys her a swimsuit. For which he needs measurements. Then, she goes home teaching (which is a male activity) and has a church brother hit on her. Even though he knows she has a thirty year old boyfriend. They spend several hours together. Then the boy next door comes by, bearing me kind gifts of carbonation, and tells her to spoon with him. Then, reposing on our couch, he stays and takes a nap, after making her sing him lullabys. Then she aces her physics tests. She then comes home, discovers she has won one hundred dollars, and then floods the kitchen trying to clean the dishwasher. She then gets turned about and very confused trying to find me to pick me up to attend our family home evening. At which she eats a splendid supper of cookies and cannot speak English. And there was decidedly more weird stuff that only makes sense if you know her, and still other things that I probably just shouldn't post about :) So I won't... Even though I really want to.

Daydreaming By The Daffodils

Picture this. An Arby's sign, with a crowd of daffodils (as in three) growing around one of the posts. A solitary figure sits between, gazing at the flowers. What goes on in that head? A day dream? A conversation rehearsal? Contemplation of the world at large? An internal discussion about the biology and chemistry of plant life? Who knows. Let's make something up. The solitary figure is a girl. She's at a fast food restaurant. Let's stereotypically assume that she is emotionally distraught, because clearly being near a fast food restaurant means she's going to be eating. Fast food, as it were. So. Emotional distress. But what? And why? Well.... men of course. So now she's emotionally distraught over men, and is sitting in front of a fast food restaurant, but why not in it? How about because... she's waiting for a friend. On whose shoulder she will cry and with whom she will eat chocolate. Yes, good plan. Okay, so emotionally distraught over men female waiting for a friend. What happened that she's emotionally distraught? Well.... let's assume her heart is broken. Yeah... good plan. Seems logical, stereotypical, and cliche. But how and why? Well there was this guy. And he and she clicked super well. Yes, yes indeed. Good plan. But that's generally happy making... So... They were together, and life was grand and beautiful and romance flowered, and they were meant to be together. They were soul mates even. But then! He, in a moment of panic was like, "No, though I love you madly and passionately, and you feel the same, we cannot be together! For we've only just met (and this isn't Romeo and Juliet)." And so a decision is reached that together they will not be, but "merely friends." Alright. And they must have been together near an apartment complex, or maybe a park or something, and not terribly far away... So after this discussion, they part ways. And even though they both think (or pretend to think) it was a grand decision and that the other is happy, probably they both think life sucks. Yeah.... But then they won't tell each other, because it's a love story, and communication isn't allowed. So then this lonely, miserable girl walks over to the Arby's sign, and waits for a friend. But why was she walking? Why no car? Because.... She's a college student! Which means she must be waiting for her favorite roommate. Alright. Recap. Emotionally distraught college student female, over a man who she loves and he loves she, but they can't be together because of an unclear objection. This might be Shakespeare worthy.... Or a bad Hollywood romance... Oh look! Her favorite roommate arrived. She has a car... That's nice. And they go into Arby's, presumably to eat. Well. I vote we were right. Hopefully her life works out and she's happy... Because there are a lot of things in fast food that ain't so good for you... Wouldn't want her to join the ranks of the American obese...

Chapter 9: In Which I Forget All Cool Blog Titles Possible

There are some beautiful flowers on my here table. Why? Because some marvelous romantic young man swept me off my feet, bringing me roses and showering me with sweet nothings. Oh wait, no. That's not how it went at all. They're not even roses, and my roommate bought them, cuz she felt like it and they were 99 cents and oh yeah, she's compensating for her completely unromantic thirty year old boyfriend. Which is close enough. Flowers are nice to have. And I love Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. And sometimes I come home, thinking that I'll make myself oats. But no! Because forsooth, there are barbecue chicken taco thingamahoodahs waiting on the stove. Because my roommate is beautiful. And it was marvelous. And sometimes I go to BYU concert choir concerts when I could be a) at a Synthesis concert or b) studying with the dang cute guy in my American Heritage class. And secretly I'm kind of whiny about it. But then it is a thing of glory and beauty and my soul is enlivened and enriched. And life is beautiful. And then you get home after a long day, and less clothes. And then your roommate comes home and says, "I'm going to less clothes." And so you say, "No, that's not allowed." Then she goes, "Says Miss Knee-High-Socks-And-Man-Shirt-With-No-Bra." Then she goes and takes off her clothes, and wanders around in short shorts and a bra. And you're glad for once that it's her who needs to make sure that the blinds are closed. Sometimes you need to do lots of homework, and your roommate quasi swears and makes fun of you. Frequently. Oh yeah, and she dated your brother. Twice. Wait, no, not twice. And then she's like, "Do I ever happen in your blog?" And I'm like, "Yeah, briefly." So now she's starring. And she's naked. So now she's a porn star.... Well that escalated quickly. But it's okay because she's a babe. Like, the men want her, the women want her, the young men want her, the old man has her.... The usual. In fact, even guys who have their own quasi-non-girlfriends spend hours making fun of her, just like grade school. But with less tag... And decidedly more sexual tension. Well, this is a really weird blog post... I hope that no one is traumatized. And kids, don't eat too many marshmallows in a sitting, or your stomach blows up and you die an unpleasant death.

Chapter 35: In Which What?

Yup. Sometimes, that's all there is to be said. What?

Chapter 34: In Which It Is 12 O'clock At Night (Morning?)

I am going to babble. I believe that's what one does late at night. Or is it early morning? I'm not sure I love the way we have of counting days. The biblical Jewish way of doing it was good. Evening to evening was a day. Makes sense right? The morning was the morning, of last night's previous day, and that evening a new day began. In all fairness though, deciding what the devil the month was was not scientific. I vote we don't do that. Basically, people saw a new moon and went and told some guy, who had pictures, and they pointed at the picture, and if everyone agreed, a new month began! And then they lit fires to tell everyone. And sometimes the Samaritans, just for fun, would light fires whenever to throw people off. So. Dates of the then time, don't agree so well. But hey! Not that it's terribly relevant to anything. Also, I'm always proud of myself when I spell words right that I used to always get wrong. Sometimes, I forget that I'm not in grade school, that I'm not 12, and that other people know that too. Alas, no more gold stars for me. Not that I ever got them anyway. I sincerely believe them to be a myth, as I have never experienced them for myself. Naturally, they can't exist. So neither does heroin. Also, hair. Sometimes, I think that I wish I had long hair. And then I remember how I would look just like everyone else. And I also think that I like my short hair. Then I think how it's money. And how my current length represents an entire four months of growth. Do I really want to give that up? Especially since there are so many males who tell me to grow it out? And attractive ones? But at the same time there are people who like it short. And in the end, I don't truly care what any of them think anyway, and I'll do what I want. If only I knew what I wanted.... Oh hair. How you beset me so. Good thing I don't have to think about it until I have money and can afford to get it cut. Then I have to make a decision. Which secretly I already made. I think.... So I write unpublished blog posts. One of them was me whining. If you happened to view my blog for like, a specific five minutes, it was published for a bit. But then it stopped. So this one kind of replaces that one in the what-the-devil-is-she-going-on-about-this-has-nothing-to-do-with-anything kind of a way. Also, my leprosy is getting so much better. I just want everyone to know that I am much less leprous than I was. Though I still need to bathe in bleach a few more times. Note to all of you people who someday get a skin condition that makes your hands dysfunctional and/or causes some kind of serious pain or discomfort; rinse off after you bathe in bleach. Your skin doesn't love you otherwise. Though if you have a skin disease for which you need bleach bathing, your skin probably doesn't love you in the first place. Which is unfortunate, because it's unity at home that brings about healthy relationships. How you gonna make good relationships if your insides can't get it together? Once upon a time I deleted facebook. And sometimes I wish I hadn't. And right now is one of those times. But it's good that I don't have one, because then I would get even more distracted than I am by this blog post, and then wouldn't go to bed for hours instead of just minutes. So Phew! Good thing. That's all I'm saying. Well, no, I've said a lot. Also, I would like to add a disclaimer about bleach bathing. It merely means you put approximately a fourth cup of bleach in a full tub of water. It helps to draw out infection. So you're not really submersing yourself in chemicals. That would probably not be beneficial :) Emoticon! Now you know how I feel. Not really. You just saw the ironic smile that accompanied the last inane statement. I love dancing. And once upon a time, there was this guy at church who was super cute. And then I saw him all kinds of random places around town. Turns out that he lives with this other guy I know, and I finally met him and he has a funny laugh. Coincidences have been happening like crazy recently, and I don't know what's up with it. Also, I rather enjoy fruitsnacks... I think they would be useful on the chemistry exam that I'm going to be taking, for making up molecule models. I hear dots are the way to go, but I feel like you get more bang for your buck with fruitsnacks, and I like them better. Also, sometimes I am truly a poor college student. And realize how poor I am. I don't even have spare change. That means I have nothing. Silly rent. Silly me, not going to get paid until my employer had no checks and we went on spring break for a week. Good think I have rice and chicken, and really, that's all you need. False, on both counts, but I do have food. It's just not as exciting as it could be. I made fried rice tonight. It was good. And now there are leftovers. YAY! And.... Sometimes people happen and then I think about how I should go to bed but then I just word vomit onto this blog post that is getting really long. I know people who never use punctuation and it almost sounds like that in my head. I hope you're reading this in an entertaining fashion or this will be completely wasted on you, which would be truly unfortunate. Waste not, want not, as my good friend They says.