Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Sorry I Said Something

I should keep my comedy to myself. More laughs for me, less scoffs from everybody else. :) Why do people get offensive/defensive when I try to be funny? Can't they just say, "I don't get it" or "Whatever you say, Manda" or even "That's not funny" ? This happens a lot, but let me share you this one incident:

Lookin' at my facebook News Feed and there is a girl with bleached blonde, Utah-Square hair, cropped at her chin with a shock of pink. She's got a long sleeved t-shirt and a loose vest. I think to myself, "She looks like a hair stylist." I realize I'm stereotyping, but lo and behold, she works at a salon. My stereotyping has been justified and reconfirmed. So I turn to my roommate and show her the picture.

Me: "Guess what her job is?"
Her: "I don't know I can't tell from a picture."
Me: "Look at her hair and her vest."
Her: "So??"
Me: "Doesn't she look like one of those cosmetologists?"
Her: "No."
Me: "I think she looks like a cosmetologist. A lot of them look the same."
Her "No they don't."
Me: "I've seen a lot of cosmetologist with vests like that."
Her: "I have a vest like that, so I look like a cosmetologist?"
Me: "Well, she has short hair too."
Her: "My hair is short"
Me: "Yes, but it's not ratted out to here."
Her: "Not all cosmetologists rat their hair."
Me: "Yes. That's true. I realize that. But doesn't SHE look like a cosmetologist."
Me: "They have a look."

Was I out of line? A lot of cosmetologist do has short, dyed/bleached, colorful hair and baggy vests. I know because I've had my hair cut before. OF COURSE there are exceptions. A girl in my Suite is a cosmetologist. She has LONG, bleached, colorful hair and baggy vests. I'm just saying, there is a look and a lot of them have it. Is that wrong?

These kind of scenarios happen to me ALL THE DANG TIME. Is it my delivery? or are my jokes really offensive? Or Is it that people really just don't like me and want me to shut up and not talk to them so they say something mean to get me to stop?


Monday, January 17, 2011

It's Been Awhile

One would think that I'd really be into this blogging stuff. I love to write and I love to talk and I love to vent. Maybe I don't blog because I secretly don't like to type. You see, when I close my eyes, before I fall asleep at night, I type every word that comes into my head mentally. This can get annoying when I think in full sentences or paragraphs. You know what's worse? When I make a mental mistake, I use the backspace and type it over again. No joke. There is something seriously wrong with me.

There are a few nights that I do not type in my brain. Those nights I finger spell things to myself, or to the universe. I would use full ASL if I knew it, but alas I only know the alphabet and the number 1-10. This is almost as painful as typing in my head because I have to think of each letter as I think the word, where as in typing I can kind of think of one word as one entity. Long words, like "catastrophic", leave me catatonic when I forget which letter I was on and have to start over again.

Maybe there's something wrong with me. Maybe it's like some mild compulsion. I don't know, and I try not to self diagnose. Most of the time my "conversations" to myself are silly things. I'll tell myself I'm beautiful. I'll write myself love letters from an imaginary secret admirer. Not having romance in my waking life has done something extremely weird to my nights.

I have dreams about dates, boyfriends, proposals. I've even held hands with a life-long friend in a dream and I highly enjoyed it. When I woke up I was appalled, because Ben is like my brother and I could never think of him romantically, but in my dream we were practically engaged. How does my mind create scenarios like this? Or, more importantly, why does my mind create scenarios like this?

Last night I had a dream that I got an anonymous note from a "secret admirer." He'd drawn a stick figure likeness of me pouting with the words, "I'm aware of your situation" written below. What does that mean? You don't flatter a girl by drawing a less than flattering stick-figure of her. And you don't win brownie points with pity dates.

Well, I can't promise I'll write again anytime soon. So I guess I should tell you that ShaPi moved out and ApMil and GWil moved in, not like it matters.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Suite-Mates #1 - ShaPi

I have 4 suite-mates. We'll call them ShaPi, TriWil, LinSea, and JesBo. When they do something annoying, quirky, or just down right weird, I will be blogging about it. Our first victim is ShaPi.

ShaPi stays up all hours of the night, singing at the top of her lungs. Her choice of music is much better than TriWil and LinSea's though, so I try not to complain. Today, I'm getting ready for church, got my churchy music on, and ShaPi starts playing her alternative music. This is unusual because she usually blasts church music on Sundays. I think to myself, "does she know it's Sunday?"

But lo and behold, she comes out wearing a dress. But wait, it's only 11am, church doesn't start until one. "Can you zip me up?" She asks. I zip her up as she sticks a dry toothbrush in her mouth and hurriedly brushes her teeth. "Do you have any gum?"

I reply that I might, but she doesn't seem to notice. "I have so much to do! I've got to go!" She yells and she walks towards the door. "I'm meeting President Bush!"

And with that, ShaPi was gone.

Sunday, May 23, 2010

This Poem Does Not Rhyme

This is not a rhyming poem, I just want you to know
The words don’t sound the same, but I cannot tell you how.
Sometimes in a church hymnal the first line ends in “rain”
But the next line down, it seems, they’ve matched it with “again.”
If you’re in a swordfight, and you’re hands are tightly bound,
You better have sweet moves, or you will end up with a wound.
And while I’m on the subject, and talking about swords,
I must say a fight of courage can’t be described in too few words.
I hope that someone likes my poem, and my wonderful ideas,
If not, I’ll feel rejected and go sail the seven seas.
If you want to kick me out, then I will become an exile
And if it’s done swift as lightning, then that’s a simile.
I might be a little crazy, insanity in its highest dose,
Or maybe my allergies make me crazy ‘cause I can’t breathe out my nose!
My mother is a clown, and I’m my mother’s daughter,
And with that much being said, I hope this poem brings much laughter.
This is not a sad poem, so your eyes shall not tear,
But it might be an annoyance, so your hands might tear.
There is something in the forest that many folks are privy,
The thing that I speak of is the itchy poison ivy.
Just the other day, my daddy’s car was towed,
To never let that happen again is what my daddy vowed.
I right this wizened poem, while I am in my Youth,
And I hope I can keep it long after my health goes south.
Alaska is a cold place that I don’t really want to go,
But for reasons I don’t understand, there are many that actually do.
Have you met my darling friend Sally?
If I ever went to war she would be my greatest ally.
And if in some future time I have to go to war
I hope I’m not alone, and I hope it’s not too far.
And now I want some ice cream, I’m talking a whole pint,
The flavor that I’m craving is delicious chocolate mint.
I hope this frustrating poem doesn't make you red with fury,
Until you just can’t stand it and this poem try to bury.
I hope it doesn’t make your brain get hot with fever,
Because I’m afraid something like that might just last like that forever.
If you think too hard about it, your head will start to ache,
You might lose all sensibility and try to grow a mustache.
This poem is so grand, I hope it doesn’t get lost,
Otherwise the memory of this poem will just be a ghost.
Now I finish up my writing, 'cause you're begging me to cease,
I apologize if you were unable to read it with much ease.

Summertime Insomniac

I only have this problem, it seems, during the summertime, but I just cannot sleep! Take tonight for instance: I didn't fall asleep until after midnight, and yet here it is four o'clock and my body thinks it's got all the sleep it needs. I woke up an hour ago because it was so hot and dry in my room. I went upstairs, got a drink, put on some lotion. I came back down to bed . . . nothing.

Tried that relaxing your whole body thing--working at the toes and letting relaxation surge up your body. That just made me think of that time Allie, Monica, April, Terra, (Sarah?) and I tried to hypnotize ourselves in the game room. You know those weight loss programs--eating half and leaving half, thin and slim again, my mind is strong, my body is strong--that sort of thing. I tried to ignore that thought as I went up my body with relaxation. Trouble hit when I started to go back down.

When I reached "relax your buttocks" I thought about how funny it would have been if one of us five (6?) girls had farted at that exact moment during our hypnosis session. That got me going for quite awhile as my mind fought any idea of sleep.

Of course, this only made me think of it more, and eventually my mind turned to other things college. Like that I still have to come up with 3-4 names of people I would like on my committee for institute council next year. I don't think I 3-4 people that didn't graduate. I run through the list and weed out everyone I've thought of: April was on the same committee last year, Shelby's not the institute council type, Jaclyn wasn't my favorite Nauvoo roommate, I don't know Mallory's last name. You see my problem? I have to get names to Brother Clark by the end of the month!

Ick! I never realized how awful Tums aftertaste is! It's like I'm sucking on a penny, only it's all the way in the back of my mouth. When I went upstairs I grabbed two Tums because we had pizza for dinner and I was sick of tasting it. (Sorry.) Usually I'll grab one or two Tums and go to bed, so I don't have to taste them after the initial chewing and swallowing process. I wish I didn't have to taste them now!

I have church in less than 6 hours. I will be so tired by then, but for now I am wide awake! What am I going to do for six hours? Try and fail some more at sleeping? Watch some more Stargate? That's not exactly "Sunday appropriate" television. Should I go upstairs and read my library book? Or maybe take a hot bath?

I wonder if it has something to do with the fact that I can't breathe, the reason why I can't sleep. I'm allergic to my brother's big fat cat, but only when it sheds. This is the point where my father would say "that [expletive deleted] cat always sheds!"

Well, I think I'm going to try to sleep now, hopefully getting this mess of thoughts out will make it much easier to sleep. Hopefully.

Saturday, April 24, 2010


Went camping with my ward this weekend. It was super fun. We played Truth or Dare and somehow I got dubber "Awomanda." What do you think about this nickname? I don't think it'll stick. :P

Thursday, April 22, 2010


I had a dream last night that I got an F- in my Prehistoric Life class. They had do invent the grade just for me. Apparently my work was so bad it would have been better for me to not turn it in at all. It was so atrocious that everything I turned in was actually worth negative points. Yeesh!!