My Very Last Trip To Lagoon--EVER

Tragically our company had a Lagoon Day last Thursday. And even more tragically I agreed to go. I really should've stayed home because I had so many other things to catch up on, but I told some others in the Aerobiology department that I would go a long time ago and feel really lame when I back out on such things. The thing is I don't really enjoy amusement parks. They are so dirty and you're sitting in and touching things that a trillion other probable non-hygienic people have sat on or touched. Also, this outing was in Mid-June with school just getting out the week before. I stood for 20 minuets in line just to go on something that I liken to a massive centrifuge. It felt like all my organs and parts of my blood separated out and ended up in my right foot.

I rode all the roller-coasters and those weren't too bad. They didn't make me puke, but they did make some choice words come out of my mouth. Nothing like being plummeted to what seems like inevitable death to make you scream Mother Effer. I kid, I kid. It was more like, SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT! Sorry to those of you that are offended by my foul language (please don't flag my blog), but that is what was said in those moments of eye-bulging horror. I'm just keeping it real here.

I went with a few girls that I worked with in my old department. Ashley and Adrianne are fellow Nelson employees. Emily, Ashley's cool younger sister, also came with us. Emily and I get along so great. We both have similar playful personalities. We were at the park for almost 7 hours, which was 3 hours longer than I'd hoped that we would stay. There came a point where I was done going on any rides because I was positive that I would spew everywhere. I was thinking back (while I sat on a nearby bench eating a churro, watching the others snake through the lines) to when I was much younger and my family would take trips like this. I grew very tall, very young. I was 6 feet by the time I was in 8th grade which made me a complete social disaster, but that is a story for another time. I could go on all the rides that most others my age couldn't go on because I passed the height requirement. My older brother would actually cry because I could go on the terrifying roller-coaster rides with my dad and he had to stay behind and watch. I remember thinking that I really didn't want to go those on those rides but would anyway just because it made my brother mad. Man, I'm so rotten.

Adrianne, Emily, Ashley, and Me
Don't you want to hurl just looking at this picture? I think I just did in my mouth a little bit.
Ashley straddling Adrianne. I'm not a big fan of those two people in one seat rides. Emily and I rode together in this thing and we were one massive display of arms and legs. We are both 6 feet tall. We could hardly contain our limbs in those little cars.
Emily, Ashley, Adrianne, and Chad on The Rocket. We met up with Chad and his girlfriend, Twee, a bit later in the day. Twee was a bit of a chicken when it came to the rides. Chad had scratch marks in his arm to prove it.

Barely tall enough to get on!

Uhm...if you tell me not to, I won't.
Twee, Me, and Adrianne

My Secret Shame

I'll admit it. I really want to see Never Back Down. I fully realize that it is not an accurate depiction of mixed martial arts, but it is a modern day Karate Kid! And the fights in it could potentially be good since they are all choreographed. I'm sure I missed my chance to see it in the theaters, so I think (since I don't own a TV) that I would say yes to the first person that invites me over to watch this movie, and I would bring the most delicious treat EVER to thank them for their generosity.

Here's a clip of what you can look forward to.

Did everyone just change their minds?

I also want to take this opportunity (since I am admitting secret shames) that I had the world's largest crush on Ralph Macchio after I saw the Karate Kid. I was so fickle when I was much younger. I was fully devoted to Luke Skywalker for the first part of elementary school, but as soon as I saw Daniel LaRusso's moves I was easily swayed. It has all come full circle now. I have always had the love of martial arts and now instead of manifesting itself by making me fall for a dorky character in a movie, I'm participating in it. I understand myself so much better now.

And because this all goes together so well, I'm just going to tell you one thing more. And please don't hold this against me for the rest of my life. Promise? Ok. I had this fantasy a long time ago when all my friends were getting proposed to, that my guy would put on that "rising sun" headband that Daniel LaRusso wore and sing The Glory of Love song to me. I must clarify that I don't want that anymore. I would probably be horribly embarrassed for any man that would ever really do that. And I am embarrassed that at one point in my life I actually thought that a display like that would be a good idea. What a tragedy.

You can't tell me that after watching that video that you didn't want to kick that guy in the face. I wouldn't believe you if you said no. Peter Cetera is painful to watch.

Now that song, in theory, is adorable. If any man really thought that way about me, or wanted to say those things to me, I'd melt like a tube of lipstick in a hot car.

I Rule On The Throne Of Never-Gets-Anything-Done.

Hey all of you millions of VTS readers! I wish that I had the time to post a lengthy, literary masterpiece about my mid-June adventures, but lately I've been over my head in important grown-up stuff that is way beyond my maturity level. I had a hundred billion things to do today and I can't check anything off my list. I spent 11 hours in the lab today (not including the hour and a half lunch break that I took), which really put a damper on any progress that I was trying to make on my task list. I did manage to make friends with a widowed neighbor lady who wanted to walk to the corner 7Eleven and get a Diet Coke. Man, I love meeting new people. Everyone has a great story that they are just so willing to share. I'm excited about my new friend.

So here is another short post with the promised old ads:

They are so right! I'm at my happiest when I eat lard.
This one is awesome. This could solve all my problems with men's indifference toward me. Lesson learned.
You just never can tell. Better safe than sorry.

Only A Boy Would Think Of It

My poor little bro. It's Stefan's birthday today and he's been pretty sick.
Want to know what that is in his mouth? A meat thermometer.
Happy Birthday Stef.

Now They Tell Me

And to think that I wasted countless hours at the gym. Sheesh.

Oh Natalie! Happy Birthday! And You Are NOT An Old Hag, No Matter What They All Are Saying

June 2. The day Natalie "Durb" Buttars entered this world. You can't get a better friend than Durb. And it's not just that her family has a houseboat at Lake Powell. Nor is it the fact that she has season passes to Snowbird that she so generously disperses. Or the vacations to Sky Ranch where there is a runway strip leading to a garage off the house. Those are just the perks associated with the overwhelming, glorious friendship that Durb gives me.

Durb (I know that you have stopped calling me Alex, but I just can't stop calling you Durb. Forgive me. I can't hep it), I remember the day we met. Just kidding, I don't remember at all! I just remember that you entered my life by way of the 16th ward. And I remember that all the girls were jealous because you and the blondes really shook things up. I heard them talking in the bathroom once, downstairs in the Institute after a stupid linger-longer. True story. And then I, Vanessa the Scientist, became one of the blondes. I will forever remember the initiation ceremony where we cut our our palms and drained our blood into vials to wear around our necks, and then we wrestled in our bras and panties. Oh wait...that was something else. I believe the blondes initiation ceremony was more along the lines of racing the Corvette down the canyon to the reservoir and then skinny dipping in a lightning storm. Yeah, that sounds more like it. We were pretty hardcore.

Seriously Nat, I can't get enough of you. I love you so much. You are a total rock star! You will always be one of my best friends and favorite people. You have always been there for me 100%. I love how last year on my birthday you sent an email at 12:01 am so as to be the first to wish me a happy birthday. I love how you would come over at 1:00 am to pry Fly from the filter. I love how everytime you came up from Vegas you would stop at my house to say hi before you headed up north. I love how last year, when I was an emotional basket case, you would find any way to come up and just let me cry on your shoulder. I love that you have such an amazing family that have accepted me as their own. I love that you were totally cool about me snowboarding with your husband. And I love that you married such an All-Star who has made me feel important, because I'm important to you. I love that when we arrange to meet in Barnes & Noble, that we find each other in the Science section. I love your kindness and generosity, which I feel a blessed recipient of. I love how I had to bring you your underwear in the temple on your wedding day. I love the fact that when I back out of plans at the last minute you don't get mad. And I love how when you don't feel like doing something, you tell me straight out, and I don't get mad. I love that we have that understanding.

I adore you, Durb. I'm so happy that you're a big part of my life! Let's be friends forever. Deal? Deal.
Do you realize that I don't have any recent pictures of us? Let's remedy that soon, shall we?

At least I have this one. My favorite view of you.

And the love tiger picture. Classic.

And this one that I already posted on my blog, but will post again for pictures sake.

101 Baby!

What I didn't realize was that yesterday's post was number 100! I'm sorry that you waded through 100 thoughts of mine that were a total waste of time. I apologize, but I'm not going to stop blogging. It's your own fault for clicking on this site.

I've been writing alot lately. I try to spend about an hour a day writing. I still want to publish something someday. I know what you're thinking, "If she thinks that she's going to get anything published with the kind of writing that she's displaying here, then she's completely delusional." Well, my thought is that if Stephenie Meyer can get published with that kind of writing, then there's hope for me. Kidding, kidding. Actually, I'm not kidding at all! But I do want to explain that when I write on my blog I spend 15 minutes at the most. I don't edit my work. I just go for it. And that's why the grammar is horrible and the posts don't make any sense. I think blogging is a good way to stay in touch with those that you don't see all the time and still want to keep up on. I really enjoy reading my friends blogs (even if they only post every other month).

Lately I really haven't even had time to even spend my 15 minutes blogging. I've been dating and trying to keep up on a social life. I've 4 callings in my ward now and I take those responsibilities seriously. I've been working out twice a day trying to get ready for the Wasatch Back, plus I just want to get all trim and cut. I've actually been thinking about starting a training blog so you guys can keep up on me and my fitness goals. I signed up for the Provo River Half Marathon and a few local triathlon sprints. I also want to get a fight behind me. I have alot to look forward to.

Have you ever been ice blocking? I had no idea what it was until the youth went for their Wednesday night activity last week. You slide down a hill on a block of ice. That's the extent of it. We went to Flat Iron park in Sandy. When we drove up to the hill I remember thinking that someone was going to die. That hill was enormous. I'm not a wuss by any means, but I was a bit nervous sitting on that block of ice at the top of the hill. Of course I was the only leader that would attempt it. I only made it about 20 feet my first time, but I was going at top speeds of like 100 mph. I'm pretty sure that a helmet should be required for this type of activity. I hit a divot in the hill and flew off my ice block. I rolled another 20 feet down the hill and then stopped. My ice block caught up with me a few seconds later and tagged me in the back. That felt so good. I have pride issues and had the race back up the hill and try it 100 more times until I finally made it all the way down still on the block. After the activity I raced to Absolute to make it to a Jujitsu class. A few of the guys commented on the huge grass stains that I had all over my arms. The truth is, I am the Hulk. Don't get me angry.

I've actually been listening to country lately. I'm really branching out. Maybe it's that I've been living in Utah too long. It's just that sometimes country music fits the mood. The other day I was driving east on I-80 towards Park City, the sun was going down and the clouds were ominous and threatening. There were flashes of lightning in the sky. I turned on some country and a string of sad, yet beautiful songs were on. Country songs actually tell a story. Half of them totally make me cry. Which brings me to my next paragraph.

I've become a cryer! I cry all the time now! Me! I know! I used to never cry. I didn't even cry when I broke up with the guy I thought I was going to marry. The tears only came when there was the death of a close friend or relative. I remember sitting the movie theater with a bunch of friends watching Titanic. They were all bawling when Jack died. And I'm not talking one trickling tear down their cheek. This was the heaving sob kind of crying. I recall being embarrassed out of my mind for my friends, and while we were walking out they were talking about how my heart must be made of stone because I wasn't sad. And in my mind I was screaming at them, "C'mon you idiots, it's not freaking real!" These days I'm crying at movies such as Chicken Little. Yep, that stupid Disney pixar movie made me cry. I felt so bad that Foxy Loxy was picking on poor Chicken Little relentlessly. It brought me back to Junior High where all the boys made fun of me in gym class because my mom wouldn't let me shave my legs and they were moderately hairy. As hairy as they get when you're only eleven years old. So yeah, I felt that Chicken Little and I had a connection, and I cried. The other day Super got a little stuck in the eye hole (ocular cavity?) of the skull decoration in his tank. I could tell that he was quite frightened by the way his little body was twitching and how his eyes were bulging out of his head. I felt so bad for him that I started crying. Pathetic, I know. You don't have to tell me twice. This whole crying thing started about a year ago and I hope it's just a phase. I certainly don't want it to get worse. I'd have to shoot myself.

I burnt the back of my legs today while getting into my car after church. My dress rode up a little as I sat down on the black leather seats of my Volvo that was baking in the sun all afternoon. They are seriously hurting. That combined with my butt being super sore from ice blocking is making me sit a bit askew in my chair as I type this. My right leg is going numb, so I'd better end this entry. Behave yourselves!

Give Me Sexy. Now Give Me Crazy.

I grabbed some of the Young Women and we went on a nature hike. We came across a random rusty old truck and took pictures.


I just can't get enough of these girls! They are good for my little heart. It's nice to know that I can love like that.

I Feel Like A Million!

Check this out:

You see that gi that I'm wearing? That's Grand Master Flavio Behring's Jujitsu gi. Rob and Cam presented it to me tonight at the gym. I can't tell you how thrilled I am! My heart is bursting.
How cool is this!!!!

The Truth Is, I Am Iron Man.

Here is yet another informative post on some wicked random things that took place or things that I thought of over the last few days.

1) First off, my chest was hurting all last week. Particularly the left side of my chest. My thoughts suddenly turned to all the symptoms associated with a heart attack. I couldn't actually recall any, but I knew there must be some symptoms besides the left side of your chest hurting. Then I remembered that we recently were working on foot jabs at Absolute. These foot jabs are typically aimed at the abdomen or solar plexus. The man I was paired up with practiced his foot jab consistently on my left breast. I remember thinking, "If he foot jabs me in the chest one more time, I am going to foot jab him right in the chucks."

2) The genius of my 10 year old friend, Hannah.

The "colored" butt with the white panties is Serena Williams. She's one huge plastic doll! Hannah will let you come over and play, if you ever feel so inclined.

More of Hannah's genius:

I know what you're thinking, but I'm telling you that I DID NOT instigate this. I might've encouraged it a little with my uncontrolled laughter and picture taking, but I did not direct it.

A face behind the genius:

3) My police evasion technique is unmatched. The registration on the Volvo expired last month, and I still have not taken care of it. I'm pushing my luck by driving past the police station on my way to work every morning. But I am on high alert and have been pulling (rather recklessly) into random parking lots and side streets as soon as I see a cop car approaching behind me. Last Friday, I pulled into the left lane to make a left turn and looked into my rearview mirror to see a cruiser in the distance. Then, I see his left turn signal switch on. Crap! I'm totally busted if he pulls up behind me. I was panicked. Heavy breathing. Sweat on the brow. I was already thinking of ways I could talk myself out of this. I am pretty persuasive when I combine my charm with some eyelash batting. He was 25 feet behind me when the light suddenly turned green. I stepped on that gas so hard, made the turn, and pulled into empty Mexican restaurant parking lot and regained composure. That was too close for comfort.

4) I finally saw Iron Man. Best movie EVER! I'm not satisfied with my Jedi and Batman pillowcases anymore. I've got to get myself some Iron Man merchandise. I now want to be a brilliant, womanizing, boozing, mathematician and weapons engineer. Don't underestimate my ambition. I've got to see that movie again. If anyone needs a pal to go and see this, count me in.

5) I went kite flying on Saturday afternoon in Sugarhouse park. One of the kites was a B-52 bomber. A few military helicopters flew by and I was worried that they thought the B-52 was a threat. I mean, that kite was flying high. I could see how they might make that slight mistake. As a side note, I have to tell you how hot the sound of military aircraft is. Air shows totally do it for me. I just can't get enough.

6) No I have not called hot random motorcycle man (Troy)...yet. I've got a few other men on my plate right now that I'm sorting through. A plate that does not include Jerky McJerkington, formerly known as Hot New Work Boy. So I found out that he has a girlfriend/is engaged. We had lunch on Thursday together and I found out Friday morning using stealth tactics. I don't really care because I actually was starting to become rather disenchanted by him. I was initially attracted to his aggressive flirtation, but that doesn't carry too far in the long run. I feel bad for him because I'm sure that his massive flirtation is going to come around and bite him in the butt sometime soon. Especially if he is doing it in the workplace. (Editors note: I retract this paragraph as of 27 May 2008, due to misinformation regarding Mr. McJerkington. He will also no longer retain the name McJerkington. He is not engaged and is not in a relationship. I must remember that hearsay is not a valid source of information. If I do refer to him in any future blog entries, he will be known as The Science Policeman. Let me explain why that's funny. He's a quality auditor. So he polices our work. Get it? Science Policeman. It's funny. Trust me.)

7) This was the cherry on top of the week. I was surfing the web to see when some other local fights are taking place and found this little gem on the Throwdown website. They have a few local gym team pictures up, and Ben's team was one of them. For directional purposes, I circled him in orange.

I still can't contain my laughter. This is why he needs me as his pal. Who else would truly appreciate him looking like a dirty old man with a mullet? No one, that's who. This picture doesn't even remotely look like him. At all! I could safely say that this might be the worst picture taken of him in the whole history of his existence. Unless, of course, there is the classic picture of him in 1986 as a pre-teen in braces with horrible acne, wearing an Ocean Pacific T-shirt and sporting the mullet. Which, of course, I would pay massive amounts of money to see.
I do love that there is a girl on their team. She looks all hardcore. I'm totally going to be like that.

And then there's the coolest team ever! Such a good looking and talented group!

(pictures taken from Throwdown website)

So that's a wrap up of this weekend. Peace and tranquility to you all.

Everything Must Go!

Super's home got an extreme makeover:
I was neglectful of my little buddy for a month or two. I procrastinated in changing his filter and the tank grew a nice layer of brown gunk. I figured that Super was getting a bit tired of his current decor and decided to redo it all. He's getting up there in age and I thought that going for a hip and edgy look would get him feeling youthful again. You can see the excitement on his face. I teared up just like as if I were watching Extreme Home Makeover. I could just imagine what he was saying.

"Ahhhhhh!!! You're kidding me! You've got to be kidding me!!! This is the most incredible moment of my life! OMGosh! OMGosh! Ahhhhhhh! I don't know what to say! I truly don't have words! It's my dream home! I couldn't have imagined it being any better! I just can't believe it's mine! OMGosh! Vanessa, you really get me. You have the best taste! Thank you. Thank you! THANK YOU!!!"

You are welcome, Super. It's the least I could do for you in your situation...being stuck in a two gallon plastic box for your entire life and all.

About The Good Stuff

This week at Absolute, we had the pleasure of having Grand Master Flavio Behring teaching our Jujitsu classes. The second I saw him, I loved him. He is a man that carries a peacefulness and gentleness with him. You can see it in his face.

(photo taken from absoluteMMA.blogspot.com)

He's unbelievable to watch and to learn from. He's patient and precise. We learned a progression of really great moves tonight. What I loved was the way he still got excited about this stuff. It was so cool! He would show us something and then smile in the way that you know that he was thinking how awesome that just was. It made me feel like we had a connection because that's how I feel whenever I'm doing Jujitsu. I always get over-excited about what I learn everytime I'm on the mat.

It's crazy how unnatural Jujitsu feels at first, and then you do it for a while and realize the simpleness and flow of it. It then starts feeling very natural. Your body recognizes what it needs to do and does it. I'm not very good at it yet, but I certainly have a love for it and I'm going to keep learning.

I grateful that I have the opportunity to learn from such great people. Rob and Cam are amazing coaches with incredible knowledge. They've invested so much in the gym so that we can get the best training and experience. Pedro is awesome in the way that he's super encouraging and friendly, but he doesn't mess around when it comes to learning this stuff and really helps you keep your head in the moment. He's always willing to pair up with me and work hard with me until I finally get it, no matter how long it takes. The rest of the guys are the gym are equally as amazing. Tonight I worked for a couple of hours with a guy named Denver. Towards the end we were really getting excited for each other because we were able to see the others progress. It's nice to have that kind of support.

I feel changed since I started doing this. I feel more comfortable with myself. I can't quite write the feeling adequately, but just know that it feels good.

And That's How It's Done

Oh blessed day. You know that hymn, The Morning Breaks?

The morning breaks, the shadows flee.
The dawning of a brighter day.
The dawning of a brighter day.
Majestic rises on the world.

I've been humming that to myself all morning. Why, you ask? Let me start from 4:30am. Actually, let me just tell you right away because I can't contain my excitement: THE IDIOT ROOSTER IS GONE! Yeah, that's right, I make things happen around here.

Ok, at 4:30am the rooster wakes me up and my eyes instantly turn red with anger. I was out super late last night because I took the day off today and was hoping to sleep in. I was getting belligerent. The animosity I have built up for this rooster suddenly bubbled to the top and I snapped. I went to the front door and looked out and actually saw the damned thing strutting across the neighbors yard yelling it's head off. I really had to stop myself and rationally think this through. The exact location of the rooster was now known. I hopped on the internet, found the number for the police and called the dispatcher. I can make friends pretty easily and chatted it up with the lady on the phone for a bit. She said that it wasn't a silly complaint and that the police were there to dispose of public nuisances. She agreed with me that it was indeed a public nuisance. She even admired my restraint for not going over there and snapping its neck. The officer that took the complaint then called me to follow up and we had a few good chuckles about the situation. He said that animal control had been called and would make sure that the rooster was out of there this week. The morning breaks. The dawning of a brighter day.

"What's that, Mr. Rooster? You're going to cockle-doodle-doo your brains out for the rest of the morning? It's cool. I'm just going think of you as I eat my chicken dinner tonight and lick my greasy fingers in satisfaction! You damn rooster. Don't mess with the best, yo."

I'm Telling Y'all It's A Sabotage!

I had to make some choices as where to spend my time last night. It's rough being this popular. If you were to ever rub a magical lamp or catch a magical fish, don't wish to be as popular as I am. It's tougher than you think. Anyway, I decided to go to a surprise birthday party for this guy at work. I've been invited many times before to hang out, but have always had to say no. I think that they started thinking that I was thinking that I was too good for them. I had to go this time.

What I didn't know when I arrived was that the best present to get this guy was a case of his favorite beer or a bottle of hard alcohol. I showed up with a nice book of crossword puzzles. You know, the expensive ones from Barnes & Noble. There were a few giggles/outright laughs for that one. But he likes crossword puzzles! I see him doing them all the time at lunch! I thought it was thoughtful! It was the only non-alcoholic present that he got. I sure hope he woke up this morning.

I'm really glad that I showed up because not too many people from work came. I did meet a ton of really cool people though. Later in the night, when everyone was good and plastered, we played Rock Band. HAHAHAHA! And this is where I come in. I sucked it up on the drums for a couple songs and then when I was booed off the stage I was politely told that maybe I should sing next. It takes quite a bit of prodding for me to do that type of thing. Finally I took the microphone and sang Sabotage by the Beastie Boys. For those of you not familiar with the song, I conveniently have it on my music playlist to the right of this post. I'm just going to toot my own horn on this and say that I rocked it. I'm pretty sure that I sounded just like Mike D. There was a ton of laughter from the onlookers. And I couldn't even use alcohol as an excuse. It was a flashback to the time that I sang Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen in front of some other co-workers. Why do I keep doing this to myself? No wonder nobody takes me seriously.

Men With Motorcycles

There's a new guy at work who is smokin'! I met him last week at our company cinco de mayo party. He's one of our new Quality Assurance auditors. I was standing by him in line while waiting to get some tacos. He was wearing those 1980's style sunglasses, brought back by Kanye West. What a tragedy.

Anyway, this guy is hilarious and smart and cool. Did I mention very handsome? I didn't think too much of it until he started instant messaging me through our company system. Holy shameless flirtation, Batman! All last week! Everyday. Asking me out for lunch. Wanting to give me a ride on his sweet motorcycle. Never has a man been this forward with me. And never have I felt like such a woman because of it.

Last night, driving home from work, I was thinking about how I really like motorcycles and how great it is that new work boy has one, and how I should date more guys that have them. Well, right then, at a stoplight on Redwood Road, a muscled handsome man rode up on his Harley, looked over and winked at me. I blushed a little and looked away. Then looked back. He was right there smiling at me. Why wasn't this blasted light changing!? Another coy glance his direction and he gestured for me to roll the window down. And I did! What! He started talking to me and asked if he could give me his phone number. I thought it was cool that opted to give me his instead of asking for mine. I memorized the number and then the light changed. So now I'm left with this dilemma. Do I call him or not? Sure he was good-looking, smooth, and confident. Sure he was riding an awesome Harley. Sure that I'm sure that he's going to be a rich, cocky, meathead. So do I call anyway?

Fight On

Alright, it's that time again. Jeremy Horn is putting on a Fight Night this Saturday, 7:00 at the Salt Palace. Cort McGee is the main event. He's always great to watch. I'm not sure yet if I will be attending due to the fact that I will be running in the Ogden marathon that morning. That normally wouldn't be a big deal, but seeing as I haven't trained at all for this, I'm wondering if I will be down for the count the rest of the weekend. I even took Monday off from work already anticipating that I will be non-functional. I'm truly relying on last years marathon training to get me through this. Pray for me.

I've been emailing Jeremy Horn over the last few weeks to see if he needs any volunteers for his shows. I want to be more involved in the MMA scene and figure that contacting the promoters of these shows would help.

The first email I sent to Jeremy was very professional, stating who I was and what my intentions were. I told him how long I've been training and my gym affiliation. I described my love for MMA and explained how I could help in his shows. When I didn't hear back from him I emailed him a second time expressing intense desire to participate. I also played up some of my incredible qualities. Still no answer. Another email was sent and I decided to be Ms. Sassy Pants. It was light-hearted and fun. Again, no reply. I emailed him one last time and told him to put his gloves on and meet me in the cage! You'd better pack a lunch and bring a friend Jeremy, because it's going to be an all day event. Sucka! Foolish Sucka! I just checked my email...nothing. I bet he's scared.

There's No Place Like The Ballpark

Man, those Bees are really bringing on the heat. They're something like 13 games ahead in their division. So impressive.

I totally took this sweet picture last night.

We've got a great ballpark with the mountains as a majestic backdrop. It's too bad that there are like a billion empty seats. Maybe it'll fill up a bit more once the weather decides it wants to remain warm. Last night was frigid. Some random guy told me, as I went to use the restroom, that it was so cold he could cut glass with his nipples. Uhm, thanks for the info? But I've never heard that expression before and was entertained by it.

Well, this night was especially awesome because a group of guys that I sat with at a ton of the games last year was there again this year. Ben (shady little guy in the back), Crook (in the orange), and Nick are the loudest, funniest guys at the ballpark. Crook moved to Arizona last fall but works for an airline now, so he's planning on coming up plenty to watch some good baseball. I guess the Diamondbacks just aren't cutting it for him. Who knows? Anyway, I can't really repeat what was said (I'm trying to keep this blog in the PG-13 category), but know that I was laughing so hard that my eyes were watering. The Bees players love us because it's pretty clear that what is said is affecting the opposing team. They start looking over at us and shaking their heads and such. I thought my trash talking was pretty clever, but it is nothing compared to was these circus animals got. Sweet Lincoln's mullet!

I've got to go to bed. I'm starting to turn into an ogre. It is way too late to be doing this.

You Can't Tell Me That It's Not True

I make my blog public so that many may enjoy my massive genius. I'm certain that I have many "lurkers" or "blog stalkers" that frequent this page of literary splendor. I recently checked how many profile views I have received and was surprised to find that over 300 people have looked me up. Last time I checked I think I only had around 14. And I will shamelessly admit that I'm thrive on comments. Just can't get enough of them. So last week I received an anonymous comment on this post, and just had to let that person know that I enjoyed their remark and hope to hear from them in the future. Thank you, my friend, for your candor. I appreciate your honesty in telling my that I do indeed look like Trent Reznor. I do like to tell myself that it isn't the dark, brooding, angst ridden, satanic look that this resemblance is based upon. We both just have glorious bone structure and an ethereal milky white complexion.

Also, Mr./Ms. Anonymous, you are not the first to tell me that I look like Claire Danes. Ever since Romeo + Juliet came out in 1996, I have been compared to the gorgeous Ms. Danes. I have scrutinized pictures of her and still just cannot see it. Until the other day when I saw this picture.

This looks exactly like me! It's just too bad that this is a still from Brokedown Palace and she is serving a jail sentence in less than sanitary conditions and that's why she looks the way she does. Figures. BUT, I finally know what you all are talking about when you say that I look like her.

The most random likeness I've received was from someone who thought that I looked like Janice, the Muppet. Funny. But at the same time, not funny.

Also, recently I've looked at my profile picture and finally concluded as to who I look like in that photo. Check this out:

You can't tell me that you don't see it. Would it help if I photoshopped a blue hoodie on myself? Maybe if I had more of a sinister smile? What if my brows were furrowed a bit more? No, I think they're adequately furrowed. That shouldn't make a difference. Why didn't any of you tell me?! I hold you all responsible for letting me walk around the blog world looking like Skeletor, the mastermind of evil. Thanks, guys. Really appreciate it.

Fighter Lawn Service

Seriously, I wasn't even complaining about having to mow my lawn when Camrann offered to come over and do it. I was leaving the gym and just merely stated that it had to be done. I know that I complain about lawn mowing quite frequently but really, I didn't this time! I don't know why I hate it, I just do. The hardest chores for me to do is fold laundry and lawn mowing. Everything else is cake.

The sucky part of all of this is that the neighbors are tactless about my lawn care habits. The old couple next door will constantly ask me about my schedule and make me give a time when I'm going to take care of it. What the crap?! Is that your business? Really? Another neighbor couple will take walks and when they get to my yard they will stop and inspect the length of my grass. Then they'll shake their head in that disappointed way. Argh! You'd think with this behavior that my lawn is this overgrown jungle where you need a machete to make your way to the front door.

What came of this is that members of my ward that live nearby have been asking who that handsome man mowing my lawn was.

"Oh him? That's just my man slave."

"The one in the black? If I told you, I'd have to kill you. It's best to just forget that you ever saw him."

"That guy? Oh my gosh! I didn't tell you that I got married in Vegas last week? Best drunken mistake of my life!"

Next time I'm going to have to ask him to take his shirt off. Those abs of steel will really raise some eyebrows.

It's nice to have someone think of you and take care of you like that. Camrann is an angel. An ass kicking angel.

Now Hiring

I'm ornery today. You want to know why? Because I have a damn rooster waking me up at 4:30 in the morning. Every morning! When you're out past 2am, and you wake up to a rooster call two hours later, you instantly turn into an insane person. You get so angry and worked up that you can't go back to sleep. So you're left lying there with your angry thoughts dwelling on strategy for disposing of a rooster without suspicion of foul play.

Who thinks that it is a good idea to have a rooster in a residential neighborhood? A sadistic person, that's who. I mean, I can understand wanting to have a few chickens for fresh homegrown eggs but, correct me if I'm wrong, you don't need a rooster to get an edible egg!

Now I'm not a big proponent of killing animals, but this rooster has got to go. I'm thinking the easiest solution is an "accidental" shooting. But if that isn't an option (silencer availability), then I would settle for kidnapping said rooster and setting it free in the wild where it can live in its natural habitat for a long and fulfilling life. Or a combination of both options--kidnapping rooster, letting rooster go, and then shooting it. Or hire a falconer. Hawks eat roosters all the time, right?

If any of you have "resources" or interest in participation, please let me know. No names need be mentioned.