Del Doce

Today I ate 12 tacos.
If you ever want me to do something ridiculous, just tell me that I can't. Then sit back and watch while I cause myself physical pain just to prove I can.

I love my job and I love the people I work with. Some of the boys started a club called Del Doce. Thank goodness I speak Spanish so I can translate that for you: It means "of the twelve". More accurately and less literally, it means that you can eat a dozen of Del Taco's finest cat meat tacos. I, my friends, am the first and only female member to join.
I'll spare you the gory details, but let's just say that one has to be real hungry to really enjoy anything from Del Taco in the first place, but even intense, ferocious hunger wears off by Taco 8. From there it's just sheer willpower. And the stifling of gag reflexes.

I'd like to thank the following:
Brett, Chris, and Craig--The originals
Matt J. for telling me I couldn't eat more than 6.5
Crystal for staying with me through the dark hours of Taco 10
Del Scorcho...without which I would not make it past the first bite.

LoveQuest 2008

I think it's high time I did a Dating Review #2 since it's been awhile since I had anything to report.
Winter was never my season. I tend to have success in the summer months, if at all, so I wrap things up before October and settle in for a long, cold winter alone. This season started no differently. I've held numerous electric blanket tryouts, only to find myself shivering in the aftermath. However, things have taken an interesting turn of late...as follows:

Date #1 - The Set-up: My co-worker decides I would get along great with her friend because we're both (and I quote) "young at heart". Oh good--I've long been looking for someone as immature as me. I was warned that we don't share similar religious beliefs, but I agreed to give it a go. She plans the double date and proceeds to begin calling him my boyfriend.
We enjoyed Thai food and various chunky desserts, punctuated with discussions of dental hygiene, his desire to succeed as a Bellman (pronounced BELL-mun), and everyone's love for my co-worker's dog.
Highlights: Did I mention he's very good looking?
He grabbed my head when we hugged goodbye.
A certain talent for blowing yogurt balls with bone-chilling accuracy
Lowlights: I kind of hate the dog
Um...church
Temple square has never been more full of kissy-face couples
Wrap up: I sort of want him to call and I sort of don't. Pretty sure he won't.

Date #2 - The Mistletoe Avenger: This is one of those guys I've only ever seen at parties, usually dancing and speaking soley in short, flirty phrases. The last time I saw him he kissed a stranger under some mistletoe. At that point he had my number but apparantly didn't find the motivation to call until weeks later. Very nice and gentlemanly, but seemed surprised to find that I have opinions. I usually wait to deliver that little bomb, but I couldn't help it--the definitive statements just kept coming out. That, coupled with extensive talk of Italy (which I don't think either of us found very interesting), made for an awesomely boring me. I think I'm losing any charm I may have thought I had.
Highlights: Getting that huge bed out of the basement
I didn't run into my ex-crush
Overwhelming drowsiness is a blessing sometimes
Lowlights: The awkward moment after he attempted to catch me under his mistletoe and I just said "Heh hehh...yep." and walked away
Fearing I would run into my ex-crush the whole time
Disappointing Spaghetti Vongole
Wrap up: Nice guy. Haven't called him back...for lack of something to say.

Date #3 - That Guy: It took a few instances of me (and a friend) approaching this guy before he took the bait. And by bait I mean phone number. It took a few months before anything materialized. Finally, we go out. He did tell me I have something in my teeth, which sucks but totally scores honesty points. He has mentioned several things that he's not. For example, he's not 'that guy' who does improv and can't shut it off. He's also not 'that guy' who flakes out. Oddly enough, when I describe to other people the event at which we met, they inevitably say "Oooh, that guy."
Highlights: Multiple dates
Electric blanket material
I like how he dresses
Lowlights: ADD
Seems to think I'm his girlfriend and should do girlfriendy things. Doesn't he know I hibernate until, uh, July?
I still really hate New Year's Eve
Wrap up: Enjoyable, yes. Head over heels? Not so fast. I fear he just isn't That Guy, you know what I mean?

Well, there 'tis. I think I shall request that you stop praying for me to get dates and start praying that the end will come soon. Preferably swift and painless, ok?
Bring on Valentine's Day, suckaz!

Tagged

Silly blog culture abounds as I find myself tagged. This means you get more useless information about me, but this time in convenient, numbered format!

I am to give you 6 facts about me and then tag 6 bloggers. I'm pretty sure Bill Gates will share his fortune with me if I follow through. That, or 66 thugs will slash my achilles tendons when I go out to my car some dark evening if I don't...and that kid with cancer won't get his heart transplant.



1--My guilty pleasure is Hilary Duff. Can't say I like her that much, but I'm so intrigued by her since the Lizzie McGuire days that I have to stop and watch whenever she appears. You can blame a lot on the pre-teen girls you babysit.

2--My impossible dream is to sing on Broadway.

3--I once attempted to try out for The Bachelor. I still wish for the opportunity to show up in front of Mr. Desperate in something with sleeves and with a personality and see how fast I get kicked off. You know the other girls would HATE me while they secretly wanted to be me. Modest is hottest!

4--I was meant to surf and play volleyball...I just came to the wrong climate. And body.

5--I have a super-human sense of smell. Cinnamon, vanilla, and lemon are my favorites.

6--I'm attracted to skinny guys. Nerdy ones, usually. Do you think this is just a reflection of my desire to be skinny? To pass skinny genes on to my kids? Do I enjoy being the bigger half? I'll never figure it out.



I tag..hmmm...do I even know 6 bloggers? Lohra, Shells, Kaydi, Shan D., Feline, and Natty.

Angels in the End Zone

It was half-time, or thereabouts.
I was getting slightly distracted—which isn’t all that surprising, considering I become bored quickly when I completely lack the talent necessary to be competitive. The score was 3-1. My team was winning, no thanks to me. I was doing a great deal of running around, however (because when you’re unable to catch a football you just keep busy by running around), so I’d already removed several layers of clothing. With just a thin pair of gloves on, I felt a new surge of energy, a desire to attempt contact with the ball. I made myself wide open—not difficult, considering most people had forgotten I was even there—and motioned to Laura to pass me the ball.

She fired; I missed. Slippery little bugger. We repeated this killer play three times before I decided to remember that I have no talent and begged everyone not to throw me the football ever again.
“Why wasn’t I born with athletic abilities?” I asked myself in agony. The wide, unfriendly sky gazed down on me as if to say, “Because you were given such an abundance of ugly face-making abilities.” Not the most comforting, though I agree that ugly faces can be useful. But why couldn’t I be like Laura, who caught numerous passes, scoring touchdowns and gaining rapport with fellow players? Or like Gretch, who pretty much tackled anything that moved?

I recommenced running around aimlessly, occasionally two-hand touching anybody I saw in case they might be involved in the game more than I was. When the captains declared that we wouldn’t call the game until one of the teams reached four points, I groaned audibly. “Can’t we just have a dance off?” I asked, in a pitiful attempt to gain some of my self-respect back. Alas, the game continued.

And then it happened.

My team had inched through the snow and ice toward the end zone—again, no thanks to me. We lined up for our fourth down, last-ditch attempt. I trucked it toward the end zone and found myself alone. I made eye contact with Oh Captain, My Captain, and I saw that mad gleam in his eye that could mean only one thing: He intended to pass it to me. Panic seized my body and I meant to scream, “NOOO! Throw it to anybody but me!” but shear terror pinched off my vocal chords and I just stared stupidly at that pointy, spiraling, missile of death coming at me as if it meant to seal my humiliation with a pigskin kiss…I think I closed my eyes…and awoke to find myself tackled by my teammates and a hundred screaming fans. I looked at my hands and was startled to see a football clutched therein.

How did this happen? Well, I’d like to bear my testimony of miracles. Happy, happy miracles. It’s not every day yours truly has the pleasure of making the game-winning touchdown.
Next time I’m shooting for MVP.

Blog Wars Revisited

My dear readers, be thou not distressed.

Some of you think I've died. I assure you, I have not. Others think I've become apathetic to the cause of blogging. Again, this is not so. And may I most vehemently protest those who think I've been cowed by the presence of other, clever-at-best, cocksure bloggers-To this group I simply ask, where is your faith? Is there not just reward for patience, for hope, for holding out indefinitely for that which you know is right and good?

I am here to tell you I have not given up on blogging. I will never let another blogger think they've won this war.

Rest your weary hearts and look forward with joy to the time when I shall post again. Twill be soon!

Belated Halloween Times

2007 brought me the best Halloween ever, I declare. Something I love about my friends is that they don't disappoint when it comes to dressing up. I used to go to the Howl at Utah State, only to see the creativity displayed (and to show off mine, on a good year). But I don't need to anymore, even if I wanted to, because our annual Halloween party is pretty much the awesomest.

Here are some examples (yes, that is Carly's pregnant belly. Her actual belly. Painted. I hope there wasn't lead in it). Please note: The more, uh..plain ladies are Warren Jeff's harem. I wish you could see McCall's shoes. They creep me out.





And as a bonus, I happen to work for a pretty freaking amazing company that also knows how to throw a killer party. Much creativity there, too, and this gave me the chance to do 2 costumes!

So, after much nagging, I proudly present my Halloween pictures.


That's me, sculpting a "TA" for Thomas Arts. I kind of won.



This one even creeps me out...maybe because of the bright blue of my bedroom. But this was right after my hair was freshly teased. It still hasn't recovered, unfortunately.



I stuck my hand in a tank with this in it. All in the hopes of grabbing a coupla bucks. All I got was a coupla pieces of paper and the chills for the rest of the day.
Hooray for Halloween!

No words

This picture makes me want to pee my pants laughing every time I look at it. Props to Shannon for sacrificing the Cute Factor for the sake of the Awesome Factor.
More Halloween stuff to come!