Who's the Joker?

I consider myself a connoisseur of sorts. A connoisseur in the art of pranking. I'm a master you see. Caleb only thought he could disrupt my reign. And I will admit there were battles lost. But not the war.

His moving to Croatia ceased my pranking days. While he's been away, my pranking habits have been dormant. Although I do not think this is the case for everyone. Someone's prankster mind has been hard at work. Perhaps you are questioning this assumption? I assure you that my assumption is reason based.

I am getting emails from eharmony.com. And that is not a desperate girl's confession. I most certainly did not set up an eharmony account! But someone must have in my name. Otherwise I would not be getting offers from "single men in my area."

My friend Mary's and her sister once had a conversation very similar to the following dialogue.

Sister: "Mary, are you dating anyone?"

Mary: "No."

Sister: "You're 19! If you don't have a boyfriend by fall, you should consider joining eharmony."

Hold it sister! Who needs boyfriends at 19 and 20? Not me. Not Mary. And we especially don't need creepy cyberspace ones. So as funny as this little joke may be to whoever you are. You should know this. I am a strong independent woman who does not need a boyfriend and romance. Unless perhaps I was in a boat, on a lake, with floating lanterns around me and an anonymous McHottness, and he was singing to me. That would be fine. But other than that I don't need a boy. And I don't need eharmony.

Treinta y Seis y Siete

I promise I didn't fizzle! I said I wouldn't and I didn't. Two more checks on lista de cincuenta y dos. Yes numbers 36 and 37 are complete.

For those of you who don't have my 52 list memorized... (shame on you) I will remind you.

Thirty six was dedicated to my mother. Who goes simply bonkers over the mismatched colors that usually adorn my toes. I don't like to match socks. I don't know why. It just peeves me. So I don't. I really appreciate all of you who feel compelled to inform me daily that my socks don't match. Thank you for pointing out that obvious fact and saving me from utter embarrassment! Ok I apologize for the sarcasm. Really. I just don't match my socks. Ever. Until I did. For 7 days. For you Mama Hyde. It was hard. Because after years of mismatched stockings, I've found that the matches have gone missing. Eaten by the washing machine. I'm glad my matching days are over. What a hassle!

Thirty seven was for Maddie dearest. She appreciates my little quirks. So when I wanted to visit the odd shop on State, she joined me. I simply adore the Nook and Cranny! Its like some people's DI. Only it doesn't have anything anyone would really want to buy. But we had fun gazing at the knick knacks.

Well my children that's all. I'm having a weird day. So I'm going to Border's (which is closing *sniff sniff*). Peace out bean sprout!

Attractiveness

I'm going to do it. I'm going to be conceited and tell you: Today I was looking rockin'! Yeah that's right. I just went there. I was looking fine. Too bad the purpose of this rockin' appearance didn't even work out. Oh well. It was a surprisingly good day regardless. Because I'm a firm believer that if you feel cute, you act cute. And today I was acting devastatingly cute. I don't even care if I sound like a snob. These cute days are very rare at this point in my life. So on this day. This feeling good about myself day. I'm going to share it.

And it was a good day. It's the night where things went bad. It's because I told Winona that we're unattractive. You see, we are girls and girls talk about boys. So you don't have to be a rocket scientist to put two and two together. So here we were sitting on our tiger couches, discussing how good looking people are attracted to other good looking people. And those good looking people date. Well unfortunately we aren't dating any good looking specimens. We aren't dating any specimens at all. Clearly we aren't attracting them. Therefore we aren't attractive. That's a pretty heavy realization wouldn't you say? Yeah...

I like sweats better anyway.

The Day of Love

Valentine’s Day was invented by women. This delusion of love and romance is really just a mask. It is a holiday designed to make men feel obligated to by their women flowers and candy. And it is like the ultimate pity party for any single member of society. I think it’s pretty clear that I’m not the world's biggest Valentine fan. I mean don’t get me wrong, I like love. Romance is great. I like cheese and I like it laid on thick. But why do we need a holiday to tell people we love them? Isn't that something we should be saying every day? If my man loves me, I want him to want to give me flowers. Not because society says he should. I’m just saying I love is more than pink hearts and roses.

For the record I’m not opposed to V day. I’m more… indifferent. I did receive some anonymous flowers and I won’t tell you it didn't make me smile. Thank you mystery man. And Happy February 14 all!

Daddy's Girl

When I was very little, my father wasn't around much. Bread winner meant he was traveling often. He isn't one for words, where affection is concerned, but I always know he loves me. At bedtime, when I was young, we would kneel around that old familiar black frame bed. I would kiss his cheek and tell him I love him. With a promise to see him in the morning.

When I turned 8, my dad wrote me a letter. He probably doesn't remember. But I do. I always do. When moving to college, I lost that letter. It was a half page of red paper. And I dearly wish I knew its whereabouts. But I do remember what it said. Dad told me he loved me. That he was proud of me. He encouraged me to continue to learn and grow. He encouraged me to read his favorite book. (It's my favorite now too). He told remember Abinadi. Dad wrote some other things. It wasn't a very long letter. But my favorite part came at the end. Dad promised I would never be too old to give him goodnight kisses.

That was twelve years ago. I've grown up a lot since then. But I still give my dad goodnight kisses. I'm told that I'm a lot like him. I can only hope. I look to him for guidance. For comfort. For laughter. He is so much more than meets the eye. He is strict, but kind. Fair. Hard working. He is full of love. He shows me every day. It is in the small things. Like when he puts gas in my car, just because he knows it's low. And when we sit on the couch just talking. It's in the way he laughs at me when I can't shoot the stupid ducks. It is in the way he respects and loves my mother. And takes care of his girls. He has a good heart.

Today I spent the day with my parents. Just the three of us. I was reminded of how blessed I am. I'm so grateful for the dad I got. I love him more than words can say.

Being Sick is Not Good for Your Health

Direct quote from Alvaro Israel Lopez. Love him. That brown kid sure knows when to state the obvious. But he may have been wrong on one count. Sure being sick is not good for my health in the physical, but I've never had so much fun being sick as I did today. I think that counts for some kind of healthy.

If you are going to be sick there is no better way to be so than being sick with your best friend in the awesome fort you two spent over an hour building. And watching 4 consecutive movies within said fort. So yeah maybe a pounding head and coughing attacks isn't completely ideal, but I really had a lovely weekend with Sarah West. Exactly what the doctor ordered.

P.S. I have the best big brothers. They made me chicken noodle soup. I'm so well taken care of.

Smart Friends

Winona is making lentils. Lentils. I've never had lentils. They sound 25% like slimy beans, one quarter yuck breath, and 2/4 like something I want to try. My opinions are formed on the fact that they are healthy. Health foods and my taste buds aren't always simpatico. But Winona says she likes them. And Winona has a sophisticated palate, so I'm sure they are superbly delish.

I just realized how frequently the name "Winona" appears in this blog. A lot. I'm like that mom who constantly blogs about their kid. Except she's my roommate. Not my kid. (Which for the record, is non-existent). So basically I could be considered significantly more creepy than I actually am. Sorry guys I just really love Nona. And she really loves when I blog. So naturally my love and her love combine to give you... lentils.

But this post is not meant to be about Nooney. Although she is very smart. Including her food choices. No no. This post is about Taylor. Taylor Dolbin. Because he just earned like 300 gallons of "Ann Marie Loves Me" dust. Why you ask? Well it went like this:

Once upon a time, Ann Marie and her BFF, McKinsey Maurine, were spiraling down the incomprehensible pit of despair, more widely known as math homework. Word problems :( We were in dire need of some assistance. So Kinsey pulled out her phone? Taylor answered while sitting in the Junction having din din, so we told him never mind. We didn't want to interrupt his lentil-less supper. But because he is thebomb.com he helped us anyway. Kinsey read him the problem and all the sudden Professor Dolbin was on the other end of the line.

"Am I on speaker phone? All right you guys, listen up!" He talked us through the problem that we thought was unsolvable. He even added a few, "you guys know this stuff" and "you can do its." And do it we did! Yay Professor D! I could just see him sitting there in the middle of the Junction, his phone to his ear and doing math on a napkin. Except he's so smart, he probably did it in his head.

So I guess what it boils down to is, I am grateful for smart friends. And their willingness to help even at inconvenient times. Because now I'm going to ace my quiz tomorrow. And I'm grateful for lentils.