Melissa Joan Who?

It has been a while since I last posted something insignificant, but I'll just have to skim over that stuff and get to the more important topics.

So I spent a weekend in Utah to see my mom and family. It was really great to see them all, and especially my mom. I love my family and wouldn't trade them for anything.

Now, on to equally as important topics, such as the second time in my life someone told me I looked like Melissa Joan Hart. Yes, the second time. No one has ever told me I looked like anybody except this specific celebrity (can she really even be called that?), and I have to say that it upsets me greatly. I feel that I am slightly more attractive and remarkably less annoying than she is.

The first time someone told me I looked like Sabrina the Teenage Witch was when I was a junior in high school. It was a boy I thought I could possibly like and when he said I looked 'exactly like Melissa Joan Hart, its freaky...' I paused for only a few seconds, just to throw up, and then remembered that I absolutely detested him and had never even thought him remotely normal.

The second time someone told me I looked like her was a few days ago, from one of the patients at my work. She asked me if I knew who 'Sabrina the Teenage Witch' was, and I said that I did, completely ignorant of where the conversation was leading. I quickly thought of the hideous boy who once told me I resembled her and began remembering what terrible destruction I wished upon him for making up such a lie. She smiled and said, "you look just like her!" I smiled and walked away smiling. I smiled all the way to the kitchen, where I picked up a coffee maker, still smiling, and carried it back to the room where the patient was waiting. I smiled at her while I threw it at her, shattering the glass pot against the wall, all the while smiling.

Say I look like her and be prepared to face the consequences: a smashed coffee pot behind your head. I mean, is it so arrogant to think I am more attractive than her? Has anyone else ever gotten a 'You look exactly like...' remark, that is absolutely uncomplimentary? I never walk up to someone thats really short and said, "you look exactly like Danny DiVito!" or to someone fairly pale, "Wow. Do you know who Marilyn Manson is, because you could be twins!"

Crap. I just really looked at some pictures. I think I do look like her, but that she actually looks better than I do. Crap.

Six Flags baby!!

This weekend was way more fun than anyone else' weekend, and I'm here to tell you about it. To further contest the idea of me being antisocial, Josh and I did social things. We went out to eat on Friday night with our friends in Irvine and some of their friends. No, I don't have pictures so really, I could just be making this up to make myself sound awesome (only truly awesome people have friends who live in Irvine and only truly awesome people go out to eat with the said friends), but I'm not. I promise on the integrity of Nordstrom that we did in fact, go out to eat with Anjanette and James, and their friends who are now our friends also, Heather and Fabio (his actual name... he does not have a ponytail, much to my dismay). After we finished up a long dinner, Josh and I headed up north to LA, where we spent the night anticipating oue date with Six Flags. Six Flags was fun and great, but has anyone been there lately? Because I'm pretty sure that if you have, you most likely fall into the category of gangbanger, white trash, or latino trash. Seriously. The place is a dive and likely the breeding ground for everything STD-related.

When Josh and I first walked in, Josh took a look around and remarked, "We're probably the best-looking people here, and thats saying something." I couldn't agree more. I put together a pretty valid list of why not to take your children to Six Flags.

1. You don't want your children to grow up wanting to be like either of the two blond lezbiens with piercings on every realm of their body, including inbetween their clevage.
   
2. You don't want to have to explain to your children the reason why a man who is 40 years old is flirting and eyeing a 13 year old.
3. You don't want to have to explain to the kids why they have to wear underwear, and the guy smelling like he just ran a marthon 7 weeks ago and still hasn't showered doesn't.
   
4. You don't want to have to explain why the Europeans don't shower, because honestly, has anyone really figured that one out?
   
5. You don't want your kids hearing the spanish profanity, intermixed with the occasional woman over 60 dropping the F bomb.
6. You don't want your kids asking if they can have beer in their bottles too, all the other toddlers get to!
7. You don't want your kids picking up the gang signs, being flashed between rival gangs while in line to get slurpees.
8. You don't want your kids contracting syphilis just by touching the hand rails.
   
9. You don't want to have to give your children the sex talk, just because they witnessed two people doing it while in line to go on Goliath.
10. You don't want your children asking you what "Get the *&#@ away from the %$#$ing !@*%, you %*#ing *&!@! And $#@# you, too, you wanna-be *%$!! And *&^% that!" means. It isn't so cute when your three year old says, "Mommy? Can I have a *$&#ing drink?"
    

Six Flags was awesome and if you like roller coasters, I recommend it. If you like the eternal salvation of your soul, however, I don't recommend it. Not really, though. Just close your eyes, plug your nose, and avoid touching anything or anyone and you'll be just fine.

I should mention that on our way back from Six Flags, we went to dinner with some other friends in Dana Point on the pier. That was actually quite a place to eat (not so much for the food, but the atmosphere). We were on the water, eating fish with Mike and Misty, when we realized that life isn't so bad after all.

Apology

Josh told me that my last post sounded a lot like, "...a 14 year old in teenage angst." Whatever that means. He said that my blog is a little harsh and that people who don't know me (why are they reading my blog then?) will think I'm an angry (true...), ornery (still true...) cynic (even more true...), who doesn't like the general public (nailed it.). Good. Looks like they know me then after all. Anything else they can learn along the way.

But really, I'm not such a bad and angry person and I think that maybe I should make that more obvious to people who are still deliberating whether or not I would knock their block off if they cross me. Chances are, I won't. For me, my blog is a place where I can let my sarcasm fly, rather than always having to keep it in check. At work, for instance, I can only use it sparingly and curbing my sarcastic urges nearly kills me. So, I create a blog where I can relish in my sarcastic appetites and release the building cynicism that flows from my being, and then Josh tells me to curb that as well. Well, I'll try to be a little less angry and little more bubbly. Apparently that is who he thinks he married, and I would hate to disappoint, although I think he knows better.

Consider this, though. I don't have children to soften the blow of my harsh words or even harsher personality. Someone can say they hate the world and then put up a picture of their two-year old and everyone forgets the words 'hate' and 'world.' I don't have such a luxury. Nor do I have the luxury of posting cutesy pictures and explaining the pictures with sentences like "it was so fun" and "I love everything about everyone." I gag reflexively just pretending to write it. So I'm not a feel-good person. I just want everyone (the three people that read this...) to feel customarily warned that my blog is an exaggeration of my irritations and impatience and that I will do my best to keep the uncomfortable feelings to a minimum. There. That should satisfy the tyrant.

Antisocial?

As I was sitting at work, trying to numb my mind to make the hideous task of inactivating 2000 patients from the 1950's less painful, I was thinking about having to hurry home to make some kind of salad for some friends' bbq. I was in the midst of thinking about how to get out of such an event, when it truly struck me that were it up to me, which it is obviously not, I would never for the rest of my life attend another social function. I was somewhat in awe as I considered that truly being happy had the motto of 'Leave me the hell alone' somewhere along it. I immediately felt shame for these thoughts, being that I'm married to Josh, the world's biggest lover of social gatherings, and he is always making comments on how antisocial I am and how I am a terrible person because of it. Then, when I really thought deeply about it (inactivating patients from the updated system requires no concentration whatsoever and I'm close to having the monkeys trained to perform this task without supervision), I was irritated about the shame I felt; why should I be made to feel as though solitude is an evil thing and being surrounded by nameless faces the better alternative? I hate having to sit amongst people and remain civil, without so much as a light punch to anyone's face. Its nearly unbearable not getting to punch anyone in the face in a day, you know, and I have had to live that way for nearly my entire married life! Josh doesn't think it acceptable to punch someone in the face when you disagree with them about reality tv shows or anything else of such high importance, and so he has made me promise I would not.

I should make it clear, however, that the social gatherings I refer to are not actual friends' social gatherings. They are gatherings with people you do not feel comfortable punching in the face or openly insulting, and they tend to involve things like smiling and shaking hands. I hate doing that, by the way, shaking a new acquaintance's hand. Its rather unbearable and I think that maybe we might like to switch the hand-shaking ritual to something more preferable, like kicking a new social contact in the shins. That would definitely be advantageous, since I guarantee there would be less social gatherings and people might actually put some thought into who they are meeting and being introduced to. You won't go to a random assembly without being pretty sure that you're going to like the people. It is way more responsible, really, and I plan on starting it immediately. I think then, I would not be invited to anymore outings (until the shin-kicking thing caught on, of course), and Josh could still go. I can't figure out why he doesn't just go to these things alone, but I guess its probably because he doesn't like to be alone at any point in time, and driving 10 minutes in the car alone would likely be the death of him.

Thankful for Pazooki...

Here are some pictures of Josh's birthday where we went to a restaurant famous for their Pazookis (not sure how to spell it...). We ate that stupid thing until we felt sick, although being that is how I typically eat, it wasn't so out of the ordinary and while everyone else was complaining, I was sitting there untouched by my bulging stomach. Okay, now that I'm done with that part, I'll copy my sister Britt's thing, and do a 'Things I am Thankful for' list. Here it goes. I hope I can think of more than one:

• My past as an athlete: I've taken up running again (meaning I've run twice in the past week), and I haven't felt too shabby during or after. I'm pretty sure that is due to having once run before, and my body understands the impending need to alleviate the problem of my stomach actually sitting on my lap. Either way, I'm pleased that my body isn't in total protest of the new nighttime activity.
• Halloween: I did a little shopping on my lunchbreak with some girls from work, in between the awful backbiting and gossip, of course, and they took me to the coolest store in the whole world. I ended up buying a Halloween decoration or two, and found myself asking the sales clerk when it was moral to start decorating for Halloween. She gave me a dumb look, to which I rolled my eyes and promised not to start until the last week in September. Although, if I technically just don't put the decoration I bought away and it conveniently sits on a shelf posing as a decoration already set up, well then, that isn't technically decorating...
• The Eddingtons: Despite constantly saying I don't have any friends here, the Eddingtons are my friends (maybe not so much Jeff anymore as he was making fun of how young I was...) and Josh and I are always grateful that we came to live behind them. They are awesome and we will owe our first born to them, literally, since they referred us to our current doctor (no, I'm not pregnant)! Also, although Jeff wanted to bash the hurt crow (we found a crow with a broken wing in their backyard) in the head, he swallowed his killer instincts and put the thing in a box, let it sit in his garage, and even transported it to the animal place, and all because I whined enough. Maybe he can be my friend again...

Happy Bithday Old Man!

Today is Josh's birthday, and following my family's example of extending a dedicatory blog to a loved one's birthday seems to be in order.

We started off the birthday bash on Friday, where I gave Josh all his beautifully wrapped presents. I'm not even kidding, I really wrapped them. The presents consisted of new bedsheets (he has some weird thing about sheets and them being clean...), a baby maglight (he really likes flashlights and when we first moved here, it nearly broke his heart when he couldn't find the flashlights. He was constantly stressed about it, regardless of the fact that we had no immediate need for them...), lots of his favorite candy that I happen to like also, gatorade, a board game (this is to show him my efforts of being social; you can't play boardgames by yourself...), and the best thing of all, a massage at a spa place. Josh always makes sly comments that he's never gotten a professional massage, to which I usually just ignore and think how he doesn't deserve one either, but I decided to try and be a nice wife for once and get him something he might actually want.

The next part of Josh's birthday came when I went an entire day without verbally abusing him. Just kidding. Sort of. Anyway, the real next part of his birthday was today, on his actual birthday. He woke up and went surfing with Jeff, our friend and neighbor. They stopped off on te way back at a favorite doughnut shop and got some bars and I so lovingly declined the one he brought back for me. He didn't realize it at the time, but that was just another gift to him from me. He gobbled that one all up, and we got ready for his next birthday adventure, sea kayaking with friends (I didn't take pictures; I'm not that dedicated to this blog). That was honestly fun and we saw seals and just paddled around La Jolla Cove. Don't think his birthday stopped there, because we hurried home and ran off to the ward party. You might not think a ward party to be birthday-related, but I didn't say that "we hurried home and I complained and moaned about having to see people from our ward outside of church while Josh rolled his eyes and got ready to drag me out by my hair to this ward festivity." That was another unsaid present to Josh; I went willingly and even faked a little enthusiasm when I didn't immediately punch the first person who said anything to me. To top it all off, we're going to get dessert tonight at some awesome place. I'm really good at birthdays.
But really, Josh is my best friend ever and even though he's ridiculously old, I love him. I'm glad he sticks it out with me since I'm not overly pleasant the majority of the time. We have so much fun together and both have big enough egos to endure the constant teasing. We never take each other too seriously and Josh always keeps me laughing. He is so good for me and is always forcing me out of my comfort zone, which is incredibly good for me. I love this guy so much, not even a sugar daddy offering me limitless amounts of spending could pull me away.
This picture was from another themed party, where you had to dress up as 'things that go together.' He was Britney Spears and I was paparazzi. I look disgusting.

Off to the races...

I just wanted to post these real quick, since I have another post on it's way, and I couldn't just not post them since the whole purpose of a blog for people without kids is to make it look like you're having more fun than anyone else. Here are Josh and I, having more fun than anyone else at the Del Mar racetrack. I would be lying if I didn't admit to crying every time the horses raced. I was so in awe of how absolutely beautiful and incredible the horses were, I couldn't help the tears. Yup. I'm a wacko.