Lobsterita

Oh snap, did I have some crazy dreams last night. I dreamed there was a James Bond theme casino in Las Vegas. It was on the older chunk of the strip next to the Stardust or something, and it was big and stucco and pink. It looked slightly like the "Its a Small World" ride at Disneyland. It had a moat with this bridge over it, and they would do shows for the tourists. In my dream I was hired to play the villain in this stunt show. I was this evil Bond-girl named Miss Clean and I had this cleaning apron but I drove a speedboat. Me and this guy dressed as James Bond would zoom around towards each other in these speedboats firing blanks from machine guns on the front of the boat. It was great. But....Miss Clean? My brain could SO come up with something much much cooler. Its probably just my subconscious remembering I have to clean the bathroom. But what would I carry? A gun that shoots windex into peoples eyes? Geez.

While I'm talking about weird random things...
Last night I went to Sororororority. It was some fraternity/sorority get-together. For most sororities, this would mean booze and parties. For us LDS folks, it means another wholesome clean activity that is trying desperately to be cool and wacky. Like if they pick a really weird activity, we won't notice how boring we all are. Anyway, last night topped them all. It topped the complete loser-ness of a sit-down spaghetti dinner with your hands tied to other people's hands with crazy silverware to promote teamwork. It topped the "flour war." It topped the dougnut eating contests, and the trust exercises even girl scouts would consider lame.
We played human foozball. Yes. Human foozball. We went to the gym of the church, and everyone held onto these big pieces of pipe and kicked balls around. And by we I mean everyone else. I faked an asthma attack and went for a doughnut.

I'm so glad that Wonka's days are numbered. I'm still upset about him voting Veruca Salt out of the chocolate factory.

Oh, I love this. It made my day. There is nothing homestarrunner.com cannot do.

I don't think I am a very good secretary

Sometimes at night I'm sitting around thinking of what I want to do tomorrow and I completely forget I have to go to work. I just forget I have a job. Its the strangest thing. When I'm at work, I'm doing what I'm doing right now. Goofing off. I get up and go to work at nine but I don't wake up until noon. Its like a pleasant fog hanging over my head. I find myself wondering, how much actual work do I actually do? But then I start singing Pink Floyd's "Money" in my head and that kills an hour before I get back to what I was thinking about before.

Aside from moving into my new house in Salt Lake, I haven't had much to talk about this week so I thought I'd get nostalgic about one of my favorite thrift stores, a little place called Grunts and Postures. My first college apartment was across the street from this store. No, it wasn't a coincidence. In High School me and my friends would play hooky, take the whole day, and drive to Salt Lake (a 45 minute drive from Heber, mind you) for the sole purpose of hanging out at Grunts and Postures. The list of things I've purchased here is long and random and wonderful. I've bought genuine Neiman-Marcus jackets from the 1960's, a glow-in-the-dark plastic nun, ballgowns, saddle shoes, Hash jeans, and a vest that looks like something out of Hackers. Late one night I was walking to my car and spotted someone trying to break into my beloved store, and called the cops on 'em. Ask any Utah thrifter, and you'll get fierce and loyal reactions to this wicked cool store. The staff has been there as long as we can remember and the clothes are grrrreat.

Want to know more about Grunts and Postures? Here are some of the more memorable links I found on the subject:

G&P directory listing
Some BYU yahoo's whine-fest about my precious store
Another Review

:: how jedi are you? ::

I have the words to Pink Floyd's "Money" stuck in my head. I keep replacing the words. Damn you Aubrey, this is all your fault.
Sundance Sundance Sundance Sundance, Sun-DANCE!

Oh man, I need to get out and blow off some steam

I'm sitting at work thinking about all that I have to get done this week. I move into my house on Saturday, and I haven't even started packing yet. I still have to make plans for the Sundance film festival. Its a yearly tradition that I go hang out on street corners and gawk at people who may or may not be celebrities. I haven't even fiddled around with my digital camera yet, and I still need a gym membership. And to top it all off, I have to sit at work all day listening to easy-listening radio.

Is there anything sillier than generic radio? If it were up to these kinds of people, we would still be listening to harpsichord solos. Except way way back in the day, even the harpsichord was too extreme for a generation of people. I remember reading about ladies swooning and fainting at Mozart performances, much to the alarm of their parents and gentleman callers. Easy-listening radio is like saying "hmm, lets take a fluid art form and only allow the most non-threatening previously established music to exist! Lets live in an artistic cave and pretend music makes no forward progress!"

The irony of living in an FM cave like this is that they rely heavily on people who do take steps forward to produce new music for them...they wait for new songs to come out, cause controversy, and then settle into the category of oldies, and then they snatch them up as if they were old friends. They're isolationists who expect outside countries to provide their food and supplies. They're a complete oxymoron. So here's my verdict:
Easy-listening radio = DUMB.

I love Strong Bad

My friends always talk about this website, but I've only just barely tuned into the coolness of Homestar Runner myself. Strong Bad is my hero. Especially after listening to him answering his e-mail. I'm still looking for his fishing jig on Kazaa.

Hooray! I'm moving to Salt Lake! I spent all day yesterday house-hunting, and I found the swankiest pad in the world! The house is even on a hill! Those of you who know me know that my dream as a little kid was to live in an old house on a hill, preferably near the avenues. So this works out well for me. Now I can have gentleman callers over, and save myself a 45 minute commute to work. Plus, I'm down the street from the best 7-11 in Salt Lake City--it has 2 slurpee machines! Eight flavors total, four more than the usual measly four!
I will be like "Hey, want to go get a slurpee?" and my gentleman caller will be like "Whoa! This is an excellent 7-11! You are clever AND beautiful!" and then we will ride off into the sunset on his pony, drinking out of a slurpee with two straws in it. Maybe we can get one of those divided cups so we can still each pick our own flavor but there will be two straws in the same cup. Maybe one of those cups divided into thirds so we can feed some to the pony if he gets thirsty riding up and down all those steep roads in the avenues. I'll shut up now.

I must admit I went a little crazy today. A trip to Deseret Industries turned into a turvy-topsy shopping extravaganza, and I'm loaded with great new clothes! My personal favorites are the oriental dress and the black-and-white saddle shoes. Now I'm going to have to wait until the next paycheck to get those Doc Martens I've been eyeing at the mall, but I've got plenty to show for it.

It wasn't until I was back at work that I realized, hey, I've been living pretty frugally! In the past six months I've only gone for clothing when
A. My only pair of jeans quite literally fell apart, or
B. I needed a coat, socks, or shoes I couldn't steal from my sister's "uncool" pile at the back of her closet. God bless her for never throwing away anything, even clothes she hates.

Find your Role-Playing
Stereotype at mutedfaith.com.
[Angel.]


Today I was driving to work and saw a little old lady wandering around the cemetary with a huge flowered umbrella, even though it was a very warm and sunshiny day. Yesterday I met a woman who had never heard of Little Richard. Life is full of oddities.

I love My So-Called Life episodes. They're putting me in a rebellious, angsty, retrospective, plaid mood. I'm getting a haircut this week and somehow I think it will turn out more early nineties than anything. Also, I suddenly need a new pair of Doc Martens.

TGI Fridays again with the gang. This time no food lost in tubas, but plenty of conversation. Apperently everyone's talking about the body shots from the New Years Eve party. My lawyers are instructing me to give out no information at this time.

My New Years Resolution is to live a more exciting life. How? Here's how:

1. Move to Seattle
2. Spend the summer in Barcelona mastering Spanish
3. Learn to skateboard
4. Spend more time dancing to grow sexy hips
5. Be an actor who actually acts
6. Grow my hair longer
7. Kiss someone while riding a pony

Okay, so I made the pony one up. But I really really plan on making something of myself this year and not just wasting lots of time watching Buffy re-runs and buying brightly colored plastic things on the internet. Okay, buying FEWER brightly colored plastic things on the internet.