here you go, reebok.

designzzzzz.designzzzzzz.

 

photos from rock canyon.

 
 

 
 

 
 
 

whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat.

so check it out.  i ripped the above ad out of a sports illustrated because i think the commercial is funny.  i simultaneously ripped out an ad with ashton kutcher in it for my roommate; she's got the hots, and i don't mean menopause.  

the two pieces of magazine sit on my desk for a couple days, just blending with the clutter.  then, yesterday, i pick up the centaur and show it to nicole and we're just talking, and i look down at it in my hands and suddenly wonder what's on the back of it. so as we're both looking intently at it, i flip it over and reveal the below photograph: 

christina aguilera holding a real-life baby.

no joke, we both screamed.  loudly.

sorry, christina.  i never realized how bad of a person i think you are until my body repelled the image of you holding an infant.  i couldn't reconcile the tender scene with all the sluttysluttyslutty dance moves i've seen you do in commercials. 

and it doesn't help that you wrapped the kid in an american flag.  in fact, that just makes it more wrong.  the flag shouldn't get spit up on.  

today's epiphany

found this while browsing a link from my new art teacher's website. i don't know why, but the words really jumped out at me.

that was a lie. i know exactly why. it's because i sleep in more than anyone i know. except alison.

"i don't think you really ever shower."

-cassi

my deodorant bears a sticker that says it's a member of the "wetness protection program." 

hahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaa

awkward graduation faces

 

 

what's up with graduation, anyway?  they make you sit around for hours in uncomfortable seats and watch thousands of people you don't know walk by, and then you can't cheer when the one person you can tell from Adam finally gets to walk across the stage.  well, you can, but if you do your parents get mad and look at you like you just tore off your shirt, painted war stripes on it, and scalped the elderly woman next to you.  it's not really that juvenile to cheer, though!!!  come on! 

(parents just have crippling social phobias.  they don't like to be looked at.  at least, that's my theory.)  

and i get the whole "if there's a big cheer for one person and not the next, the second person might feel bad."  but seriously?  they're graduating from college.  whether or not they get a cheer shouldn't make or break their spirit.  it's not like hearing silence after their name is called will make them think, "daaaaang, gina. why'd i even go to college?"

instead, they should think "Holy crap, I just got a degree.  I am now legit."

and whether they choose to celebrate in their head or i yell "hoodright!" at my bro-in-law, that's something worth cheering about.  

I hate Easter.

someone decided that our apartment needed to consider our peephole a little more literally.  so they soaked a peep in saliva and then stuck it on there.  get it? 

pahaha. very punny.

then it dried, and by dried i mean petrified.  trying to get it off was like trying to get Roo out of Kanga's pouch.

tmi

sometimes...when i go to bed i choose not to brush my teeth first.  because i feel like i’m breaking the rules and somehow stickin’ it to the man that way.  which is ridiculous.  how is being lazy (and letting your teeth mold) ever stickin’ it to the man?  i’m pretty sure anything that has ever stuck it to any man required some effort.  and planning.  and fighting against the system.  and has usually involved creating an undercover elementary school rock band.  usually, but not always.  

i like saying “stick it to da man” often. as a filler.  also, “love will find a way.”  that’s a good stumper when someone asks a difficult question.  very hard to dispute.  for example:  

“what time are we meeting for lunch?

“love will find a way.”

“what’s the square root of 3?”

“love will find a way.”

“whose turn is it to make dinner this week?”

“love will find a way.”

hmmm. 2 out of 3 of those involved meals.  i think my stomach just took over my fingers and made me type that so i could look back at it and say, “hey i think my subconscious is hungry.”  but. it’s 3 in the morning. baaaaaaad time for secret eating.  though i’ve heard it’s a myth that eating food late means it automatically goes straight to one’s thighs, gluteus maximus, relief society arms, etc...(pick your fattest body part).  it just seems like that because one usually eats more unhealthy foods late at night.  

well, DUH.  when someone gets a hankering for some eatin’, they’re not gonna cook up some rice and beans or make tomato soup. psssssssh. that’d be weird.  

nope. it’s always “hey, it’s 2 am. i could really spring for a banana split, and by banana split i mean a pig head wrapped in bacon with 3 scoops of ice cream on top.  and some miracle whip.”

crap.  i want one.

check it

this is the coolest thing i've ever seen:

 bathtub couch. schweet.

and this is a close second:

aleisha lyons.  

FAT.

musings.

I've just realized something incredible.  I cannot do any assignment for school until ABSOLUTELY the last possible minute.  I mean, it's 5:45 in the morning and I have a Marriage Prep project due at 10.  That's a fairly imminent deadline.  But instead of working on it, I spent the last hour stalking mission pictures of boys from my freshman ward on f-book (Michael Babcock put up some sweet Croatia photos), reading through the ridiculous quotes I've written down from my English professor this semester (favorite: "I've read many a book because of the cover. A sexy cover always gets me. And in this case, sexy doesn't necessarily mean heaving bosoms and cleavage."), and staring at the quote wall that's up in my apartment (Aleisha, myself, and our constituents have really said some inappropriate yet hilarious things).

I guess those 3 things have something in common: nostalgia.  So maybe I'm not being a lazy bum and avoiding work, but rather, I'm taking a time out to reminisce.  Which is an important thing to do, but I'm pretty sure I do it way too often.  My friend Ian wrote me a letter from Canada and said he didn't like my letters because they made him trunky.  But heck, I'm trunky, too.  For freshman year.  You don't have to be on a mission to get like that.

I think it's just the lack of closure that bothers me.  How all the guys who went on missions got yanked out of my life.  It's like social suicide or murder.  I don't care when relationships and friendships fade out in a natural death; for instance, losing people I know who are graduating or getting married and moving away don't bother me, because I know they're moving on to the next phases of their lives, and I don't want to try and tag along on those journeys.  But missions cut right into the college life cycle.  The boys disappear for two years and then come back different.  Always somehow different, and always unpredictably so.  It's like they're returning from war, almost: you have this image of them in your head of how you perceived them before, and you can't tell in what way that image should change until they step off the plane.    

I mean, missions are great.  In fact, I want to serve one.  But they are such a strange social phenomena, and a HUGE part of Mormon culture.  They've created so many stereotypes around the words "premie" and "RM."  I could really puzzle over it all forever.  Or at least for a couple more hours until I finally start my assignment.

ODE TO ONE SIR CHRISTOPHER WALKEN

he is the coolest

nobody else ever made crazy-weird look so good.

he kind of looks like a woman, especially in "hairspray."

plus, he's comfortable dancing with a man:

"i don't need to be made to look evil. i can do that on my own."

he doesn't care when his strange manner of speaking is imitated. he's proud of it.

http://www.hulu.com/watch/16389/saturday-night-live-meet-the-family

and he can shake it, unlike anything i've ever seen before.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sMZwZiU0kKs&feature=related

Ode to the Librizzle

Today I finally loved the HBLL fully. It is such a wonderful place.

Except for when I'm doing homework there.

But at all other times, it's magnificent. I see people I know, I chat on facebook, and sometimes I am blessed with the opportunity to witness strange social happenings. For example, today I sat down at a computer in the LRC. Two minutes later, a guy

walked in sporting the Fresh Prince of Bel-air hair.

He looked EXACTLY like him. And then a guy with a lumberjack shirt and a super-stringy, nasty blonde mustache sat down next to him. I sat back and marveled at their juxtaposition. It was the backwoods meeting the inner-city. It should have been photographed.

The library is also the best place to overhear strange bits of conversation. Or gawk at nasty couples who only came there to cuddle, not study; you know, when the girl is sitting in the guy's lap and stroking his hair while they stare into each other's eyes. It's also a good place to find people watching funny videos, like a few moments ago when I glanced at the girl's screen next to mine and saw she was watching a video that at one point flashed these words on the screen:

"...i know i'm a sex kitten in the morning."

Riiiiiiight. Still, what with that, the lumberjack, and

will smith, I almost exploded from pure randomness.

Ooooh! I almost forgot. Two more things:

1: My friend Rosanne worked there and made shirts that say "What in the HBLL are you doing?" Paha. Clever, veiled profanity.

2: When you say "No-Shhhhh Zone," it totally also sounds like cursing. Isn't this the biggest oversight at BYU? How did any prophet ever approve the naming of that? And what if a

general authority were to visit now, and for some reason they had a reception for him there, could they really announce "After the devotional, if you'd like to meet President Eyring, please meet in the NO-S*** ZONE?!?"

Someone's gotta tell somebody.

final p.s.

the library makes itself really hard to steal from

this is cool.

i bared my little old soul and applied to the illustration program.  and they don't notify those accepted until april.  

seriously?

it takes them 2 months to decide if they want to say

"you downright suck" 

or 

"we welcome you with open arms into all the glory of the visual arts program.  let us mold you" 

???

maybe if i get accepted and have a somewhat prestigious art career i can one day get hired at BYU, sit on my butt all day, and gain a reputation for judging people real fast-like.  kids can line up outside my door with art pieces in hand and high hopes, and i can make them or break them in 3.4 seconds.  "green hippo with a mustache?  intriguing.  you're in."

"still life of a potato?  boring.  denied."

"drawing of me that makes me appear more attractive than i really am?  come on in."

"bloody depiction of a puppy killing his 4-year-old owner?  we'd like to monitor your progress very closely and may commit you someday, but for now, you're hired."

yeah. i could do that.

anyway.  some people asked to see what i turned in.  so voila.

HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY,

MISS JUAREZ

[i hope my first tribute is up to your par]

oh. my. lanta.

every once in a while i see an oldies 

music video that makes me think 

"how on earth did they not realize how stupid this looks?!?"  

i'm used to it.  the bad clothes, the even worse hair, 

and the lead singer looking angry and 

stomping one foot in time with the music.  

but this one takes the fa-reaking cake.  

i guarantee you, if you watch it in its entirety,

it will blow your mind.  it has ninjas, swimmers, 

glowing eyes, doves, and schoolboys with wings.

and a backstory that i think has something to do with being a pedophile.

how can you resist??????

oooooooh how i love people.

i vaguely recall once promising meg this would never be on facebook.

so blogger's the next best thing.

meg. i miss you. you enrich my life. and you're the one who taught me how to give little tribute moments like this, so here's one for you.  i always feel like i'll remember how i feel about people and things that happen because they're so immediate, but i always lose them when i don't write them down in my journal or record them some other way.   but doing things like this help me slow down life and pinpoint things that i can look back at someday 

and say, hey, that really mattered. 

so here's your tribute moment, narfbag.  this video captures the best moment of the best night (so far) of our friendship.

T-SHIRTS I WOULD BUY IF I HAD MORE SUFFICIENT FUNDS