Thursday, July 30, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
I think he was stalking me because I caught him in the window well outside of one of the cabin bedrooms.
And I think I can get my own Mountain Dew clock if I sweet talk the manager at Gas-n-Go.
So, I'm back from Island Park and I got to ride the whole way in the back seat with my MIL. She really knows how to make like a Yak and YAK! I got to hear all of her observations about who said what to whom and when and where and why (can you believe it, bless their hearts, not to be rude, just sayin').
Friday, July 24, 2009
The moving thing, that is.
Ain't that just the way it goes? Secrets and lies are like big ole chains around your psyche.
Thank you for all of the virtual hugs and words of consolation you offered in my comment box.
I appreciate you bringing to my attention all the good things about moving to Utah, like reading Playboy for the articles and being unable to buy contraceptives on Sunday.
And thank you Kritta 22 for pointing and laughing and calling me a Utard.
I also appreciate those of you who were honest enough to say "EW!" and admit you were just using me for my super hot surfer dude boyfriend.
But I especially want to thank Julie Youngblood for answering slash confirming all my questions about plastic surgery (and for handing me a tissue).
But I'm going to have to poke Martha in the eye for refusing to give me a hug. Now that smarts, Martha! But then I'm divorcing her too so I don't blame her.
Wesley's mom brought up a painful point. I will no longer be able to bring you photographs of Jack Johnson's underwear. Can you guys ever forgive me?
That point was like salt in the wound, but I promise, on my honor, as GAD as my witness, no crossies, that I will do my duty to seek out other celebrity underwear for your entertainment pleasure.
I am still at Island Park family reunioning with my IL's and they are giving me a crash course in what to expecting when you're expecting to live in Utah.
While we were trying to decide if we SHOULD or SHOULD NOT move they were courting us--wining and dining us, using their indoor voices, writing us lub notes and offering gifts.
We are now the proud owners of a pinball machine named Tommy,btw.
But as soon as we made the committment things changed. There have been no lub notes and very little wine. All we are getting now are earfuls of talk about how things are on "this side" of the ocean, and there may or may not be subtle insinuations that we may or may not be able to "handle it."
My SIL says people WORK OUT in her neighborhood. They do MARATHONS here. They go to BOOT CAMP to lift WEIGHTS with all the Relief Society sisters. How crazy is that? I always thought you went to boot camp to lay out under the stars and roast marshmellows with your boots.
And they eat all natural chocolate here. They don't just eat it either, they sell it. They have parties and sell it. You can also have parties to sell jewelry if you want. And modest clothes. And oxycodin.
Who says they don't know how to party in Utah?
And Disneyland was right . . . it IS a small world after all.
Yesterday I was hanging out with my neice and nephew and they were showing me their photo albums on FACEBOOK and guess who's picture popped up?
I was like, that's my friend. And they were like NO, that's MY friend. And vice versa.
We got in this huge wax-on/wax-off crouching-lion-hidden-dragon-kung-fu-panda fight about it.
As it turns out Barbaloot is practically related to me. My BIL is her bishop, my nephew went on a date with her, my niece spent the weekend in Park City with her, my niece's husband played soccer with her and my SIL watches The Bachelorette with her every week.
How's that for Twilight Zone?
(Speaking of Twilight Zone, I better finish my story, huh?)
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
And believe me the truth does burn.
My grandma is not the only one with secrets and lies.
I totally lied when I said there's something ungodly about St. George. I lub St. George and it didn't singe my eye lashes off either, although Funny Farmer was right when she said it should have because anyone who uses their free agency to vacation in St. George in July deserves to have their eye lashes singed off.
I also lied about being duct taped to my in-laws at Island Park. We DID drive here together in a caravan and we DID eat together at Chuck-A-Rama and we ARE staying together in the same cabin, but there is no duct tape involved.
I have my boundaries.
I also have my secrets.
My latest secret is that I'm sad. I've been sad for weeks now actually--ever since I was at the Statue of Liberty where my hub received a phone call from BYU Provo asking him if he wanted to transfer.
Of course we don't want to transfer!!! I screamed into the phone before my hub smacked me in the head.
But of course we want to tranfer. Our whole family is waiting for us with open arms (and rolls and rolls of duct tape).
So why does my stone cold heart feel so heavy I can barely lug it around?
I can hardly bring myself to say the words.
Deep breaths . . . Inhale . . . Exhale.
There I said it.
And now I'm bawling my brains out.
I NEED A HUG!
(btw, if you want to clear a room start bawling your brains out at a family reunion.)
I knew this time would come. But I never thought this time would come. You get me?
We have been Hawaiians for 18 years.
Even though Hawaii had committment issues and never got down on one knee to offer us a happily-ever-after I feeeeeeeeel like I'm getting divorced.
No, I feel more like I'm leaving my super hot surfer dude boyfriend to run off with another state. An older, colder, more practical state. A state with more beehives in it's bonnet.
I'm running off with the state of Utah.
I'm putting down roots.
Which means I'm officially . . .
. . . a grown up.
What if they don't like dummies in Utah? What if they whisper behind my back? What if they judge me?
What if I get caught in a snow drift and no one notices I'm gone until Spring?
Will I have to get breast implants to fit in? Will I have to keep the sabbath day holy? Will I have to pretend to like country music?
I guess I should look on the bright side. I can finally pick up that porn and prozac addiction I've been putting off.
Will you guys still read me when I'm married to Utah and addicted to porn and prozac? Or were you just using me to get to my super hot surfer dude boyfriend?
At least I will finally be around people who can tell me exactly what I should and shouldn't do. And after I learn it all I can tell you guys exactly what you should and shouldn't do too.
I'm here to serve.
I know I will learn to lub my new hub and we will live happily ever after til death do us part to infinity and beyond.
But ftr, my stone cold heart will always belong to my super hot surfer dude boyfriend.
Does anyone have a tissue?
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Seriously, peeps. I'm duct taped to my in-laws in the middle of bee-U-tiful Ideeho at a cabin in Island Park with no internet or cell phone reception. (btw, did you know that the Ideehoans spell their state Idaho? whodathought!)
I miss you peeps! I really really MISS YOU! There better be internet and cell phone service in Heaven, otherwise I might have to raise some major helk.
I am going to publish a post I wrote in the car while I was driving home from St. George. It's not complete, and I can't add the photos because it's hard to move your hands when you're duct taped to your in-laws, but it's better than no post of all.
Am I right or am I right?
This post was inspired by a stop in southern Utah to see my grandmother on the way home from St. George.
I started writing when I was nine years old. I was trapped in the Twilight Zone at the time.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
After all my family stopped crashing my partay, we finished off our meal with fortune cookies. You know what that means, right? wink wink.
hee hee hee
That was pretty much it, peeps. The only thing you really missed was me giving out autographs on Caramacs.
I would show you mine, but I can't remember where I put it.
Last, but not least, does anyone want to see what the newest member of our blog bunch brat pack looks like?
This is Debbie from Cranberry Fries. Isn't she cute as a button. Ya'll need to scoot on over to welcome her to the hood.
Monday, July 13, 2009
But you would lub them even more together. I had no idea those two girls were so . . . lively. I had to cover my ears and repeat La la la la la over and over.
And then I took a few photos of everyone eating Japanese 'Rice Crackers. Go figure!
I think this is when Barb said "Hmmm, next time I need to pack something I can just use a bunch of these. They're just like styrofoam."
Hey, I gotsta go. It's 9 a.m. not and my hub is pulling me out the door again.
Part III coming tomorrow with photographic evidence of my MIL trying to steal my friends and my Rockstar brother looking starstruck and me and Kristina P. in a snuggie built for two.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Only 20 more minutes until I leave for my Olive Garden Partay!
What am I going to wear?
J/K peeps, I'm fully dressed and ready. I tried everything I own on twice and modeled it for my mom and my super model daughter. My silly goose mom has been giving me fashion tips and telling me how everyone is wearing things. And she's lending me jewelry and giving me make up tips. "Here, try this," she says. "This will make your face radiate." And at this very moment my super model daughter is painting my toenails red so I'll have a pop of color.
My hub just walked in and said "Hmph, I thought you were going to go casual."
It's not my fault if I look sexy.
I'm so excited to meet my friends.
Did you know I've never eaten at an Olive Garden in Utah. I didn't start my love affair with Olive Garden until I lived in New York. My daughter was less than a year old then and my hub and I used to make her suck on lemons so we could laugh ourselves silly when her face got all screwywampus.
I've tried many times since to eat at the OG in Utah, but with my family we'll say "where should we go eat?" and everyone will say "Oh, we've already eaten." End of conversation.
With my hubs family when we say "where should we eat?" it begins the conversation.
It usually starts with me saying "OLIVE GARDEN!" And then my FIL saying, "when we ate at the Olive Garden back in 1893, the food just wasn't that good."
And then my MIL will add, "for the price."
Then, after two hours of debating the options my FIL finally says "I'll treat if we go to Chuck-a-rama."
I've only been arrested once. And it was for poking my MIL's eyes out in Florida. My BIL found a steak and shrimp place for $2.99. My MIL said "Let's check it out" which means all 40 of us will bombard the joint. Half of us will find a table, while the other half will circle around looking down our noses at other peoples plates. Then, after the waiter brings the menu, we will all get up at once and leave, shaking our heads and saying under our breath, "The food just didn't look that good, Did it to you?"
So we drove around for three hours trying to find a better place until we finally ate at Burger King.
That's when I poked my MIL's eyes out.
Anyway, gotsta go!
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
But then I would have to title it something like Only in Hawaii, or Thema and Louise Going Coconuts, so it still wouldn't be WORDLESS.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
I wouldn't mind doing that full time when I grow up.