The one time that I gave my sister a mullet..

It was really, REALLY funny.  And 100% accidental.  Which made it even funnier!

I guess I should clarify here.  I didn't pull a Stephanie Tanner and Uncle Jesse moment where I was playing beauty parlor and accidentally chop off a piece of her hair while laughing at Joey's funny cartoon voices. Also, I wasn't in elementary school.  It was this summer.

Look at that face. "HAVE MERCY."

This is also quite ironic because Stephanie cut OFF Uncle Jesse's mullet whilst I GAVE my sister a mullet. So dang ironic...

Okay, I guess I should clarify even more..

Once upon a time, my sister Amy saw a picture of a girl with braided bangs like unto this picture:

Since I am practically a professional hairstylist (lies) and love to play with Amy's hair, we decided to attempt it on her. Well, in my research of other braid hairstyles (Amy wanted to learn how to do fancy braids), I found a picture like unto this....

and got a little too excited... and decided to attempt that on her beautiful head of luscious blond locks instead of just a bang braid.

It started out grand. I was doing GREAT.  Braiding like a fiend while Amy nicely bent her head at weird angles.  The thing was, however, I didn't especially know what the heck I was doing. I started at one side and went across her forehead and got to the other side and decided to take a break and admit to myself that I honestly had no idea what I was doing and try to figure out how to finish. You know how it is.


ANYWAYS.  When I took a break with the braid, I showed Amy what I had accomplished thus far and the absolute FIRST thing that she said was

"It looks like I have a mullet!"

It did. It reallllllly did..

It was HILARIOUS.  

After we finished laughing really hard and taking like 9 bajillion pictures of her lovely redneck 'do, I finished braiding allllll the way around and gave her a nice, crown-like, NON mullet hairstyle. 

Ta-daaa

So regal! And she said it felt like she didn't have any hair, so I totes scored in the interesting hairstyle department that night... 

Moral of the story: if you do something ridiculous to someone's hair, make sure that it's your sister and she loves you, EVEN if you accidentally give her a mullet. 

THE END.

A New Direction

I'm quite the Pinterest addict.  No, really.  I am.  I primarily live in the Humor section; occasionally, I peek into the Food & Drink area, but where I really enjoy to venture is into the FASHION.

Most of the pins are from fashion bloggers.  I then creep on these hip, trendy, newly married, childrenless women's blogs.  They are so. dang. fashionable. Their lives seriously rock.  Due to my large amounts of research, I have decided that I will transform my lovely, fashion-less blog into a hip place of style, trends and fads GALORE.

 I don't have a rock on my left hand which means I am not provided with a photographer.  However, I do have my trusty-dusty camera I got for my birthday last year to start me out.

Dang.  I'm already behind.  No husband.  No fancy camera.  Let's see if I can actually make this transition into the fashion blogger world.

I'll start out by filling y'all in on what I wore this summer.  I didn't take a picture of my outfit every SINGLE day, but I think I have found a way to fill you guys in of what I wore most days anyway.

Here goes:

You get the idea, right? 

Maybe I'll change the name of this post to "How to Dress Appropriately For Work" instead...

If you can't guess, this was my uniform for my job this summer as a day camp counselor.  My ensemble every single day consisted of my office supplied shirt required to be tucked in, thick brown belt older than life itself and khaki shorts from Costco.  

This was, quite clearly, THE perfect summer job to start a fashion blog to show off my trendiness...

Don't be too jealous of my hipness.  

I wasn't even wearing my name badge lanyard in these photos. 

I'm confused.

I was born and raised in the lovely city of Las Vegas, Nevada.  Have you heard of it?  Well, if you haven't, let me fill you in on almost everything that you will ever need to know about Las Vegas.

Ahem.  Ahem.

It's hot.

That's about it. Oh, and there are things like gambling and casinos and schools and families and churches and cowboys and businesses, but let's be real here.  It's mostly just hot.

It's the oven-like type of heat, though.  You know the feeling of opening an oven to switch out another sheet of cookies and in that split-second when you are leaning forward when you open the door and you feel like your mascara is melting and your eyebrows just fell off?  That's what it's like when you open a front door in August.

However, I am glad that Vegas is just a dry heat.  I literally cannot handle humidity.  I DIE.  This past summer, it rained wayyyy more that normal and being outside was torture.  Give me all the heat, but without the side of moisture, please!

Not that I haven't experienced REAL humidity, though.  The summer that I was 15, I took a bus tour that went from Salt Lake City, Utah to New York City in 19 days.  Yup.  22 states in 19 days.  On a bus.  During said bus tour, (IN JULY) we stopped in Nauvoo.  Have you heard of Nauvoo?  Let me tell you about it.  It's HOT.  Not in the "wait-I-need-to-go-back-inside-to-find-my-eyebrows-that-just-fell-off" kind of hot, but the "I-just-opened-the-door-to-go-outside-and-I'm-already-dripping-in-sweat-and-will-never-be-dry-again-in-my-entire-life" kind of hot.

I saved a bunch on lotion.  It was great.

What's my point here?  I totally have one, I swear.

Well.  In all my time in the beautifully moist eastern side of the United States, I never got a single bug bite.  Not a single stinkin one.  I waded in rivers that I forgot the names of, stood by the banks of rivers at sunsets, hiked through a marsh, and just generally spent a LOT of time outdoors, but I never got a single bug bite.  Even wearing shorts for most of the time!  I got sunburned, yes. Sunburned badly? YES.  I literally turned into a redneck, but still no bug bites.

I thought that bugs just hated me, which I was totally fine with because I hated them too, but then something changed.

I go to school at BYU, which is in Utah... Utah is also a desert, although definitely a colder one! (Snow? What is this?)  Last night, I spent less than 2 hours outside for an FHE activity and go back to my apartment with what? Fond memories? Yes. New friends? Yes. But what? What else did I go home with??

EIGHT BUG BITES.

At least 8..  I have been finding more on my arms throughout the day!

What's the moral of this story?

Even if you can survive Illinois in July without getting any bug bites, be prepared for September in Provo because those suckers will come juuuuust for you.

Confusing? YES.

Proof of my redneckness and bug bitelessness 

(PS: notice how cloudy it looks? Still got buuurned.)

And another moral for you: if you wander Washington D.C. for an entire day, wear some sunscreen.

Just wear the dang sunscreen.

the Book of the Face

I've discovered many things about myself concerning the popular social networking site Bookface.

First, I stalk myself more than anyone else. It's very true! I go through my profile pictures countless times. I go through alllll the pictures/videos I've ever been tagged in. This week, I even scrolled down so far on my wall that I went back to when I first got a Facebook.

As a freshman. In high school. In 2008.

It's becoming a problem. I don't even know WHY I do this so often. I'm not vain; a lot of the pictures are, quite truthfully, terrible. Maybe it's just me looking back at past memories or because I like re-reading old comment conversations. Maybe I just like remembering how weird I was as a 14-year-old. I just really don't know!

Second, I pretty much only write on other people's walls to wish them Happy Birthday. I literally do very little else. In my intense self-stalking, I've seen that pretty much every lil snit-bit of what I write on walls consists of "Happy Birthday So-and-So! :)"

No, really.

Yes, it varies with how well I know said friend that I'm wishing a happy day of birth, buuuut other that that, it's pretty true! I just CAN'T not wish someone a happy birthday! It's their birthday after all! They deserve a birthday greeting from that girl (AKA me) that they haven't talked to since 8th grade even though they've been friends on Facebook since pretty much ever.

They love it.

Third, I've become paranoid to post a status perdy much ever. I have some friends who don't understand that Facebook does not equal Twitter and definitely does NOT equal the TMI sharing zone. Because I'm so freaked out by such gems of friends and don't want to be like them (but I'd never block them; they're hilarious), I rarely ever post Facebook statuses. If I do, I make sure that it's either clever or thoughtful or funny or something to be sure that I get a lot of likes. Don't lie. You do this to some degree too.

Fourth, Jim is hilarious.

'tis true.

Such a winner.

Let's get down to business.

Am I talking about me getting down to business to actually write on this blog that I created months and months ago?

No.

Am I talking about me getting down to business to get straight A's in every single new class this semester?

No.

Am I talking about me getting down to business to actually clean my half of my dorm room that has been a disaster of clothing since about Thanksgiving?

Oh, goodness, no.

If you don't know the phrase that comes directly after "let's get down to business," then I don't think we can be or are actually friends because Disney clearly failed you as a child or adolescent or teen or somewhat mature adult.

I will prove to you, you poor, sad, deprived child, the usefulness of knowing the context of such an intense phrase:

I was walking on my cheery, cold, sick way to the Tanner Building one morning last week. I wasn't feeling that great so I was walking at approximately a snail's speed. As I enjoyed my solitary walk, I happened upon a real gem of a conversation of the two people behind me. They eventually passed me because I was still plodding along at my sad speed. The real magic occurred, however, when they split to walk in two different directions a ways ahead of me.

I feel like now is the appropriate time to bring up their description:

Boy.

Girl with bun.

(Just to clarify: It wasn't a messy/chic blogger bun.)

(Not even the ever-so-popular the sock bun.)

(It was the full on Shang hairstyle.)

OH, HE OWNS THAT PONYTAIL.

Now, this girl did not look like a shirtless, ripped, Chinese, male, fictional, animated Disney character. She was just wearing her hair up like I know every girl has done on at least some day in her life.

The only reason, in fact, that I even noticed that she wasn't sporting that hip and trendy sock bun was because, as the boy and the girl parted, the boy gave his farewell and a final piece of wisdom:

"Watch out for Chinese warriors!"

What a good friend.

I haven't the slightest clue how that came up in their however lengthy or short conversation, but the first thing I thought of was Mulan.

Then, because of my supremely snail-esque pace and the fact that they were now so far ahead, I could hear the people behind me talking about such an unusual tidbit of knowledge that was passed along to the bun-wearing girl. Whilst trying to cross the street and get to class on time, all I caught was:

"Slightly racist, but good advice."

And, when you really think about it, it's true.

That is how you learn new things, not just at school, but also on the way to school.

So, the moral of the story here, my true Disney-lovin' friends, is to watch out for Chinese warriors as they are the ones who get down to business to do nothing else but defeat the Huns.

No, really. Watch out.

They're as swift as a coursing river.