miss DT

at byu freshman year, i lived in helaman halls. bex lived in deseret towers, also known as DT. one day, in the bathrooms lf her dorm, there was a flyer on the bathroom stall door. it said "1st annual miss DT contest" on it and gave the details of an upcoming opportunity to compete for the title of miss DT.

was it a pageant? was it a joke? was it serious? we didn't know, but one thing was certain. bex would try out for miss DT.

it became apparent that there would be some obstacles to winning the title. there were not one but two rounds to the competition. the first consisted of an interview. bex went to the interview with her hair fashioned in a questionable manner by cicada. she answered questions such as, "what is your favorite ice cream?" and she managed to pass the first test.

having qualified for the second round, bex had to prepare for the contest itself. she needed a costume, a talent, and to be able to answer an interview question in front of everyone. there were about 9 other girls competing. not only that but there were guys competing for the title of mr. DT. it was quite a production in the lobby of deseret towers.

bex wore for her outfit: a coon skin cap, red long underwear with tie-died regular underwear over, rainbow moon boots, and a cape.

for her talent, she recruited a friend of hers whom we'll call crazy. crazy was very adept at imitating unusual things; among them, a parade float balloon, and spiderman.

when it came time for her to demonstrate her talent, she announced she would be performing hypnosis and called from a volunteer from the audience. many people raised their hands, but she of course chose crazy. she hypnotized him into becoming spiderman, and then a parade float balloon. for the grand finale she hypnotized him into becoming a bandersnatch warbeling through the something or other. and he did that very well also.

the interview question was this: "what was your most embarrassing moment." you would have thought they would have realized the danger in asking bex this question. she chose to go the mild route, and stated that when she was in kindergarten she peed her pants. had she been more honest, she would have been able to tell a more recent story about peeing her pants only a few months before.

despite the smattering of people trying out for the title of miss DT (including some very earnest participants, some of which played the piano, danced, and sang), bex won. it was announced at a dance held especially for the occasion. she wore a red, green, and white frock, and some bowling shoes. they graced her head with a rhinestone tiara and the honor of carrying the title for a year.

i'm quite certain that bex set a precedent for the first annual miss DT contest that otherwise would not have been set...and will likely influence the miss DTs for years to come...

the sorority

i went to byu, and there are no sororities at byu. unless you count the relief society, which is also very important. but as for real sororities, there is none.

but that didn't stop us. cicada, bex and i decided to create a sorority our freshman year. it was called "kappa kappa kappa kappa kappa kappa kappa phi." and we were the tri-presidency. in order to recruit members, we took turns sitting at a bench/table near the quad with a sign-up sheet. after getting their contact information, we then sent out informative emails introducing ourselves. well, not so much introducing ourselves as creating completely false biographies with very questionable details. then we asked them to tell us a little about themselves.

we then proceeded to reject every person who responded. and then recruited more people to reject the next day.

this was going along fine, until one day my roommate whom we'll call slug, found out what we had been doing. she was delighted, but then decided to play a little trick on cicada. she submitted an email explaining a little about herself to the tri-presidency of kappa kappa kappa kappa kappa kappa kappa phi. she detailed her pathetic life as a friendless student at byu struggling with cancer. she expressed her heartfelt gratitude for finally being able to find some new friends.

cicada was distraught. she didn't know what to do. she thought maybe we should let this one slide under the wire. bex and i, knowing the truth, were ruthless in our rejection. we told cicada to cut this one loose. we couldn't be suffering charity cases to ruin our sorority.

then we told her it was only slug.

and the sorority continued on its merry way for a time...

summer cd

if you want a good mix to listen to this summer, this is the one i made for a lot of my friends. i can't make it for everyone, but i would like to. (and it must be done in this order for the best results. also, you can only listen to it when it's super nice outside.)

1. big john shaft - belle and sebastian

2. foux du fafa - flight of the conchords

3. electric feel - MGMT

4. time of the season - the zombies

5. close to me (closet remix) - the cure

6. my moon my man - feist

7. it's summertime - the flaming lips

8. she's not there - the zombies

9. kokomo - the beach boys

10. boracay - the little ones

11. the girl from ipanema - getz and gilberto

12. andy warhol - david bowie

13. lemonade - rivers cuomo

14. foxes mate for life - born ruffians

15. young folks - peter bjorn and john

16. this charming man - the smiths

17. under my thumb - the rolling stones

18. girl - beck

19. summer - modest mouse

20. tonight she comes - the cars

21. death of a party - blur

56 days

that's right. that's how many days bex wore a solitary outfit of clothing. 

it all started when our friend told us about a fellow who wore his sweats for an extended period of time just to see if someone would say something. if you think about it, it's an excellent way to test people's integrity. or something. in any case, it makes good people uncomfortable because it forces them to pit their manners against their desire to make the world a more hygenic place. this is what appealed to bex.

so she wore a yellow cardigan sweater over a grey t-shirt with some plaid pants and some velcro shoes. i believe this outfit also consisted of some sort of choker necklace. she wore the outfit for 56 days in a row. for church, she would remove the pants and replace them with a pillow-case skirt, even still retaining the velcro shoes. i wonder if she changed her socks? i can't remember. but i do remember that she only washed "the outfit" once.

this was at byu, and everyone proved to be much more polite than they were concerned about hygenics. i think part of it was that many classes bex attended were every other day, so the people she encountered had at least the hope that she changed her clothes every OTHER day.

there were, however, a few comments that seem pretty telling to me. one day, bex changed her choker necklace because she had gotten a new one that she wanted to wear. a girl in one of her classes said, "hey! you got a new necklace! i notice these things..." hopefully, this was just tact, and not complete irony. 

also, the day bex voted, she was of course given a "i voted today" sticker. once the sticker was slapped to her mustard-yellow cardigan, it did not budge. it had officially become part of the outfit. and i believe one of her classmates did say at one point, "voted again today, huh?"

hahahaha.

thank goodness for rocker boots

it's been a really really really long time.

so i'm going to begin with a really really really good story to make up for it.

before i begin, it should be mentioned that my dad is an oakie. in other words, my dad could have been a character in the grapes of wrath. he likes to do things his way, which usually means the most dangerous but fastest way possible. safety precautions are for morons, according to my father. (but this is a rule he usually only applies to himself. you know, because he is so knowledgeable and wise.)

because of these circumstances, my father has been electrocuted innumerable times. so i suppose that this story is just a drop in the bucket. but here we go: in the the santa cruz mountains, circa 1974, my dad and his oldest son, whom we'll call "led-head" were doing some work outside. in the mountains where we lived, you have to use wells for drinking water. for some reason, they were pulling a huge pole out of the well. but they didn't think to look up to see the power lines directly overhead.

my dad happened to see what was happening almost in time, but not soon enough to avoid being blown off the pole. he flew about twenty feet. led-head, however, was not so lucky. he was stuck to the pole with electrical current blasting through his body. my other brother, who was only 3 at the time, and whom we'll call "gonzo" was witnessing the entire horrific scene, and is probably still traumatized for life. he ran home as quick as he could to my mom. and these are the words that he uttered:

"mom! fire is coming out of led-head's boots!"

my mom was quite sure that this was bad news, although she wasn't sure what it meant. so she rushed out to where she knew dad and led-head had been working. sure enough, fire WAS coming out of led-head's boots.

as has been alluded to by the name i've chosen to give led-head, he considered himself somewhat of a rocker. this was, after all 1974, and no self-respecting rocker would be caught dead without some killer rocker boots with huge heels. and i guess that ended up being quite literal considering what happened to him...

my dad was able to get led-head off of the pole somehow. his hair was sticking up, and his hands were black with small holes where the electricity had gone out of his body, and some in his legs. but since my dad is an oakie, there was no, "let's go to the hospital," or, "let's get you checked out and see if you're ok," nonsense. but gonzo recalls that both dad and led-head were quite sluggish after the incident. they both just kind of lay around. apparently their speech was slow and so were their movements.

the moral of the story is, don't pull poles out of a well. and if you do, make sure you wear big boots.

drive-thru

my friend poprocks and i have done some great things together. my friend bex and i have done some great things together also. but one time, poprocks AND bex and i did something really fun together. well, until it went awry at the very end...

we were all in poprocks' car, we wanted to do something fun. bex, always full of good, mischievous, (and usually cheap) ideas suggested that we try to get things for free. apparently, if you go through a drive-thru and flirt sufficiently, people give you free things. poprocks was completely intrigued with this idea, as she is with anything involving flirting.

we pulled into wendy's. since poprocks was the driver, she was the spokesperson. the voice from the order box asked what we wanted. poprocks said quite genuinely, "well...what could we get for free?" first shot. the kid was way nice and said he would give us some free drinks.

sipping our free drinks, we were now hooked. but we had to think of some more creative ways of going about this. and this included thinking of the most heinous ways to approach it. we came up with some great answers depending on what they said. for example:

voicebox: can i take your order?

poprocks: i don't know...are you man enough to take my order?

and so on.

however, after our initial success, we ran into some snags. the next three or four drive-thrus we tried were girls. uggh. this is the interchange that occurred each time:

GIRL voicebox: can i help you?

poprocks: NO!

then she would drive off, disgusted.

poprocks' driving could here be addressed as well. she was known for driving great distances with only one contact in, if any, which she needs to safely drive. she's also known for driving over curbs and doing other illegal things when the fancy strikes her.

with this as a backdrop, we pulled into what would be our last drive-thru. planning to use our favorite line ("are you man enough...?") poprocks suddenly got very nervous. when the male voicebox said exactly what he was supposed to for the punchline, poprocks was laughing so hard and was so embarrassed that she barely eeked out the words: "are you man enough to take my order?" in a really scary, low voice. she then freaked out, put her car in reverse and backed into a car which had pulled in behind us.

after the information was exchanged, it wasn't so bad.

livin' the dream

i up and moved to california about a week ago to escape the horrid utah winter and seek my fortune. (when i say horrid utah winter, i am speaking of other things besides just the weather. i love utah.) but yes, i packed up the majority of my things into my car "miles," a blessed honda accord with over 320,000 miles on it, and sang myself hoarse driving across the deserts.

i moved in with my brother, his wife, and his four kids. we'll call my brother gonzo (although i seriously considered using "sarcasmo"). more will be explained about these kids later. right now, we are remodling the house, and certain things are necessarily out of order for the time being. i have made a nice little bed for myself on the couch as my bedroom is one of the places being torn apart.

one of the things i have begun to notice is my lack of privacy. it is difficult to access my things or even know where to change when i need to. this is made even more awkward by the fact that there are workers everywhere, one especially who has a mohawk and a bumper sticker on his truck that says, "vaginas are way cool." while i have nothing against this assessment, i find it a little uncomfortable everytime i sneak through my bedroom in a bathrobe to hide in my closet and change while he puts in the drywall a few feet away.

all in all though it is a happy existence. the weather is beautiful, the selection of consumer goods MUCH more abundant than in utah, and the children are rampant. they say the best things. just yesterday my nephew (fabuloso), who is 4, had this interchange with his mom (soccerstar):

fabuloso: i don't want to go in with you.

soccerstar: you have to, you can't stay in the car by yourself.

fabuloso: but i won't get in trouble, i'll just stay right here.

soccerstar: no, you have to come in with me.

fabuloso: but who will watch the car?

soccerstar: (uhhhh.)

fabuloso: mommy, if no one is here to watch it, bad guys and MONKEYS will steal the car.

we still don't know where he came up with that one. but we love it.

photographic evidence

at last, here is the photographic evidence. (see hillary, stan, and vince vaughn.) hillary also thought i should add that after the tour the three of them went to see a castle at vince's request. and that vince was traveling with the actor who plays ralphie in "a christmas story" (peter billingsley), but that ralphie had apparently partied a little too hard the night before and was unable to attend the tour with vince. and hillary and stan.

the wig/yeti incident

my mother has had a thing for wigs her whole life. she's naturally a redhead, but i have seen photos of her wearing a black afro wig in the pool, holding my brother gonzo in the early seventies. she's had long curly wigs that i have totally used for halloween, probably before i realized that not everyone's mom had a closet full of hairpieces.

one summer when i was about four, my mom and i went to disneyland with my aunt who was 9 months pregnant (actually this was her due date) and my cousin who is a year younger than i. my mother happened to be wearing a wig, black in color i believe, and a muumuu. we all decided to go on the matterhorn. for those who have never been to disneyland, it's rollercoaster that's inside a fake mountain, and there is a mechanical yeti or abominable snowman inside that you zoom past, practically ricocheting off of him while he growls. he attacks you in the dark all along the ride (meaning you can see glowing eyes and hear echoey canned growling). it's pretty much the best thing on the face of the earth.

well, when we went on the ride, the velocity of the rollercoaster actually ripped off my mother's wig, and it went flying off, seemingly into oblivion. when she realized what had happened, she shrieked and clutched her head in dismay.

when we came out of the ride, my mother was relating the upsetting news to my aunt. suddenly a young female japanese tourist inched forward pinching the wig between her fingers as if it were a poisonous serpent. she said, "is this yours?" with a contorted, terrified expression. the wig had apparently hit her directly in the face during the rollercoaster ride. realizing that this had probably been a terrifying experience for her considering there had been a yeti chasing us during the ride, my aunt began laughing hysterically. unable to stop, she went into labor. my mother was mortified and snatched the wig from the poor girl. and then she drove my aunt to the hospital. unfortunately all of the exits were closed on the freeway, which only made my aunt laugh even harder, which in turn annoyed my mother. but luckily they somehow made it in time.

technology. savvy?

since coming home from my mission, i have felt extremely un-hip in many ways. first of all, there was definitely a noticeable retardation in my appreciation/knowledge of quality music that had come out while i was gone. m ward and the sea and cake didn't really float my boat, so i kind of gave up on the music scene until recently. in that case, willfull ignorance was partly the problem.

but i have found that the willfull ignorance has spread to other facets of my life as well. for example, when i was a student, i used to feel pretty confident about my computer skills. i knew how to use the internet, i knew how to use word, i knew how to save to a disk. apparently i was on the verge of being NOT technologically savvy, and would have discovered so had i not left on my mission. at least, that's what i think now that i've been thoroughly mocked for my ignorance.

ipods for example-- apparently those were out before i left. is this true? i left in october of 2003. it probably is true, but i find it so disturbing that i had never even heard of them until delroxy wrote me a letter saying that she had purchased one in january or so of 2005. (the fact that delroxy was purchasing one at his time leads one to believe they couldn't possibly have been out much earlier than january of 2005.) when i first laid eyes on one, it was apparently a prehistoric model, the equivalent of the "brick/car-phone" in the history of the cell phone. the owner was obviously embarrassed and felt the need to explain himself. to me, it could have been the size of a watermelon, and i still would have been impressed by its alien appearance.

the word "blog" was also a mystery to me. obviously, i have progressed somewhat in that area. however, i seriously doubt i will ever progress much beyond the utilization of the template provided for me here. not to mention the lack of digital technology and knowledge that keeps me from posting photos. the cameras i use are still film only, and i believe i will need to be remedying that soon.

i was then enlightened by some benevolent individual as to the existence of usb, jump, or flash drives. these are still somewhat of a mystery to me. i purchased one today for the first time, and have yet to get it to work in any of the public libraries' computers. (it's not just my lack of technology savvy, the hip and savvy librarians didn't know either. they said it was likely that my jump drive simply is not compatible with their system. let me know if that sounds stupid or not.)

also, i apparently should be using a phone that is as thin as a stick of gum. my phone is somewhere between the brick phone of antiquity and the "razor" phone of today. it was free with my plan, and has graphics that remind me of supernintendo.

if anyone has any hip or savvy advice for me, i'll be shopping online for "the idiot's guide to technology."

they wanted to know...

byu sent me a survey in the mail recently. it was rather large and dealt with my overall experience as a student. mostly it was a bubble sheet, and i answered as honestly and objectively as could. i felt it was worth my time. at the very end of the survey there was a page with three questions that were intended to be answered as a free-response. this is where i decided to help them out a little.

Q1: Describe the most significant ways in which your experiences at BYU benefited you personally.

I think socially, it helped me open up a lot more and appreciate the diversity of personalities there are in the world. My major also benefited me greatly in expanding my thinking (intellectually).

Q2: Considering all aspects of your interactions with faculty--such as in-class instruction, work as a teaching or research assistant, research participant, creative activities, informal conversations, advising, etc.--how did these interactions affect your educational experience at BYU? Describe a specific experience which had special impact on you.

I would have to say that my overall impression among the faculty in the Communications department was that I didn't matter. I would say the negative interactions far outweigh the positive, and that many students felt this way.

Q3: How could BYU improve the experience students have while at the university?

In my case, I was funnelled into a major I did not choose because of (ironically) poor communication and poor planning. Because of having too many credits, and in spite of my excellent score on the entrance exam for the advertising program, I was told I had to finish my degree in Communications Studies. I found this unbelievable, especially since many of my credits were because of AP credits from high school. I feel I was actually penalized for excelling, in that respect. My appeal was denied, and I continued my education, completing my degree in Communications Studies. While I feel I was greatly intellectually enlarged, and very much enjoyed the material, I still greatly resent the fact that I was not able to choose my own major.

In fact, when people ask me what I plan to do professionally or what I majored in, I have to explain what it is and that there actually isn't a tangible use for my field of study unless I were to pursue a Ph.D. and become a professor. I feel that type of degree is one that should be conscientiously decided upon by the person who plans to get it.

Truly, that event changed the course of my life. I really have no choice now but to pursue a higher degree in something else in an effort to obtain some tangible skills. While I still have some options, I am currently unemployed and find it difficult to place myself anywhere, being seemingly over- or under-qualified for any position.

I recognize the need for the attitude the Communications department seems to have. I understand that it's a crowded school and the demand is high for entrance. I also believe, however, that the impersonal, almost unfriendly attitude I felt from staff and faculty is detrimental to its students. More specifically, the feeling that individual students don't matter really does have an effect on them. If someone would have taken the time to answer my questions and help me understand the process, I may have entered the program earlier. Or I may have been able to finish the degree I chose by taking one more semester than I was allowed.

damn the man

yes. it has been awhile since i have said anything about anything. well now you're about to get it. i'm going to say everything i've been keeping pent up inside all this time.

i was going to write a detailed account of my new job as a mail carrier, enlightening all of you mail recipients about just how the mail arrives, and how mail carriers spend their mornings and afternoons. however, i was promptly fired (within 30 days of my 90 day "probationary" period), which focuses my attention on some other issues.

i messed up. i didn't deliver a package on time. that's what happened, honestly. i admit it freely, but the fact is that i was new, and inevitably would have made some other mistake if not that one. as most of you already know, if i hadn't been fired for that, i would have been fired for being bit by a dog. i thought i would quote the text from the union manual that aided in my decision to not pursue anything more with the post office:

"article 12 of the national agreement states that during this 90-day period, management may separate a probationary employee for any reason, or for no reason, and the employees cannot constest the action through the grievance-arbitration procedure."

i also thought, for good measure i would quote my favorite part of the letter i received from the byu communications department after my attempt at appealing when they funneled me into a different major. (see "and exactly what are you planning to do with that?")

"while you may feel you are not in a hurry to graduate, there are numerous students waiting to be admitted to the university and lengthening your stay would not be fair to those waiting for admission."

luckily byu recently sent me a survey. to see the results check the next blog.

little miss sunshine

i went to see little miss sunshine last night, and it reminded me of a story i would like to share. it's not actually my story, but i'm going to tell it anyway. i believe that this person is actually known as urine girl on cicada's blog, so i'll just stick with that.

urine girl has had a variety of interesting and almost always less-desirable jobs in her life. i could, if i wanted to, devote an entire series of blogs about all of her past forms of employ. but i'm only going to talk about her stint as a temporary "talent associate" working for star search.

for this job she got to wear a headset. she was in charge of guiding the contestants to where they needed to go. she said that never before had she been exposed to such an underground beauty pageant culture. little girls were running around with sequin-encrusted crushed velvet leotards while their mothers chased them with rouge and lipstick in clouds of powder. this is what urine girl described, anyway.

headsets can sometimes give a level of prestige that normally wouldn't be had, and because of this, urine girl became somewhat of an inside source. at least that's what the contestants and their mothers seemed to think. they began to ask questions like, "what exactly are the judges looking for?" urine girl, entirely disinterested, shrugged and mumbled, "i don't know," and probably would have added, "who cares," if she hadn't caught herself.

but then, she began to realize the potential power she wielded. the next contestant that asked her what the judges were looking for got a knowing look from urine girl. "well," she began, looking around to make sure no one else was listening, "i know that one of the judges really likes 'the rose' by bette midler."

minutes later, urine girl heard a shakey, unpracticed attempt at "the rose" coming from the neighboring room. she then felt a twinge of guilt. but i'm sure it didn't last too long.

tommy boy

i am still finishing a different story, but will need to do some research in order to complete it accurately. in the meantime, this is about someone very special: my step-father, aka tommy boy.

tommy boy is an individual whom can only be described by the stories produced by him. thus, i am including here some old favorites, vignettes if you will.

the fire
tommy boy very much enjoys cleaning things with powerful chemicals. thoro and bleach are some of his favorites, but nothing compares with gasoline. one day, tommy boy decided to clean our gas stove-- with gasoline. as he was applying his gasoline-soaked rag to the range, a huge fireball shot through the kitchen. this explosion set the kitchen table, the floor, and tommy boy on fire. my mother was taking a nap when she heard tommy boy yelling for her to call the fire department. she did so. four firetrucks came to put out the blaze. no one was seriously injured although tommy boy's eyebrows and arm hair had been singed off. the kitchen linoleum however had gone to a bitter end.

the lawnmower
perhaps the only thing tommy boy enjoys as much as dangerous chemicals is mowing the lawn. tommy boy likes to mow the lawn while listening to his headphones on AM radio as loud as it goes. this is his main form of exercise as well, and thus very important for everyone involved. one day as tommy boy was mowing the lawn, something got stuck in the lawnmower. without hesitation, tommy boy reached in under the lawnmower to remove the offending item; however, as he had done so without turning the lawnmower off, he instead split his fingers on the lawnmower blades and had to be rushed to the emergency room.

the sewing machine
before retiring and while my mother and tommy boy were only dating, he owned a family shoe store and factory. in the factory section of his business, there were many sewing machines with large needles that were used to penetrate the leather of shoes. as he was having a conversation with my mother, he happened to put his hand down on the sewing machine. his hand, positioned right below the giant needle, was quickly punctured between his thumb and pointer finger. luckily, most at the hospital are quite familiar with tommy boy by now, and he received a warm welcome.

stay tuned. this is only the physical ailment section from before 1995.

breach of privacy

in the summer of my sophomore year in college something quite interesting happened. it involved my first kiss, and an experiment which also happened to be a breach of privacy.

i was living in a beautiful house with my friends whom we'll call poprocks and delroxy. one night, poprocks and i were at a built to spill show and were really having a good time. suddenly there was a boy next to me who started a conversation. i had seem him around because of mutual friends, but what ended up being really strange was that he was my father's student. he and the other boy he was with were electrical engineering students at byu, and were currently taking classes from my father.

this wasn't the last we saw of these two boys, whom we'll call kimball and bucko. two days later, poprocks and i were pulling into the albertson's parking lot when she noticed that bucko was in the vehicle right behind us. he and a friend got out and followed us into the store. we said hi, and he invited us to hang out that night. thus began a few nights hanging out with kimball and bucko.

here was the tricky part: poprocks and i couldn't figure out what was going on. we knew that they liked us. but we didn't know if both liked both, or if one liked one, or both liked one...or what. here is an example of their behavior:

the original plan was that the four of us would hang out after kimball was done with his band practice. but bucko called before that and said that he and i could go out to get something to eat beforehand. skeptically, and confused, i agreed. while i was gone, kimball called the house and spoke with poprocks. he asked for me, but poprocks said i had gone with bucko for some food. kimball said, "she's with bucko? well...where are they?" (this behavior was especially confusing since it was practically verified that kimball had a girlfriend that was out of town for the summer.) perhaps the most confusing thing was the fact that they didn't seem to know what the other was thinking despite their friendship.

we simply didn't know what these boys were thinking. poprocks and i told the situation to our friend cicada. cicada is wise. she matter-of-factly asked, "why don't you tape record their private conversation?" poprocks and i looked at eachother. what??? uh, how would we do that? cicada succinctly explained that we merely needed to hide a running hand-held tape recorder in a car, take them both in the car somewhere where i would run a quick errand, leaving them in the car alone. she said it couldn't fail, that they would almost certainly start talking about me, and the whole situation.

the three of us ran to walmart immediately, it being about 1 am. i purchased a small hand-held taperecorder. the plan was going to work.

later that week i was at bucko's apartment with kimball, burning cds. since i drove a sweet '77 cadillac, getting them to want to ride in my car was easy. i told them we should run to albertson's (about a block away) so i could get some batteries and they could ride in the car. they agreed. i managed to get to my car a little ahead of them so i could turn on the tape recorder and hide it between the two front seats. everything went according to plan.

that night i listened to the tape. the first part was our conversation while driving to the store, but as soon as i had left to get the batteries, there was a brief silence, and then the dirt.


bucko: "dude, i feel like crap. you'll never believe what happened the night
before she knocked on my door..."

kimball: "girlfriend call?"

bucko: "yeah...basically. she called. she knew she was...like, i called tasha on sunday night like really late, like after kellyroxanne went home. she's like, 'what'd you do tonight?' and i'm just like, 'uh, nothing.' and she was like, she said she was figuring i was hanging out with kellyroxanne that night."

kimball: "how'd she know?"

bucko: "something clued her in. cause i said, 'nothing,' you know, and basically lied, and so she found out. and she was like, 'i gotta go, i gotta go.'

kimball: "she found out?"

bucko: "yeah, like, i told her right away that kellyroxanne was coming over, and she was like, 'i gotta go.' she kind of flipped out on me a little bit."

kimball: "did you tell her that i was over there too?"

bucko: "yeah, but she's just kind of having a hard time..."

kimball: (laughing awkwardly) "tell her i like her."

bucko: "she knows that i...kinda like her."

kimball: "does she know? did you tell her?"

bucko: "yeah...i told her i think she's really cool. she knows...i mean, just by saying, she knows i'm interested in the girl, i mean, you know? dude, it sucks, i'm almost like tempted to just can the whole thing just cause i don't want to put up with that, you know?"

kimball: "put up with...?"

bucko: "i don't want to have to deal with like tasha...being all bummed out and...i don't know. but like, what am i supposed to do, like when her missionary comes home, you know?"

kimball: "did you bring that one up?"

(inaudible muttering as i approach the car)

bucko: "...she is a weird-a** girl."

and that was the illegally obtained information we got. imagine my glee, shock, and amusement as i listened to this tape when i got home that night. unfortunately, i used this information to mess with bucko's mind occasionally. i told him i had a feeling that he hung out with other girls, or that he liked someone else. he looked at me with these really terrified eyes. our short-lived relationship lasted only a few weeks, and he was my first kiss. but the truly most valuable thing i gained from that experience was the satisfaction of having successfully carried out cicada's marvelous, illegal scheme.

"and what exactly are you planning to do with that?"

one of the most exciting things about being a young single college graduate is that every time you meet people they get to ask you what you're doing now. usually this requires an answer such as, "working" or, "going back to school." those are, after all, the only options after you graduate-- there are no alternatives. i happen to fall into both categories at this point, which is now a huge relief.

before i was "going back to school," however, i had to explain to people what i did for work. for the next 6 days i will be working for kelly management services which, yes, is a staffing service well-known for providing temp jobs, but no, is not a temporary job. i work for intel who contracts out to kelly long-term. so even though my job is permanent and everything i do is for intel, i technically work for kelly management services and thus, have the world's crappiest benefits (or would have, if i had opted to) and mediocre pay.

since this career path does not necessarily require a college degree, many ask me what i majored in at byu. i then grit my teeth and try to reply without cringing, "communication studies." then i wait for the automatic and reliable response:

"and what exactly are you planning to do with that?"

true, there are different variations on this theme such as:

"and what can you do with that?"

or the ever-popular:

"what were you thinking when you went into that?"

i will now attempt to answer all of these, and other just as genuine questions. and from now on when i get these responses, i will simply refer them to this blog.

originally at byu, my major was advertising. at byu, this major falls under communications (although now i would think it should fall under business.) i had no particular desire to pursue this degree. but i definitely had even less of a desire to pursue something else. it was the lesser of all the evils, if you will.

to get into the communications department regardless of what track you are in (pr, advertising, or journalism) you must take an entrance exam. every track that is, except for communications studies. (that is the track people take who are too lazy to take the entrance exam.) i had opted to take a lot of my generals to get them out of the way, and to kill time before actually committing to this major. when i was in my junior year* i went to take the entrance exam.

the exam consisted of a current events test, which required reading the new york times daily, and a writing test. the average percentage was 75%. if you got above this average, you were in. i scored a 95%. however, when i checked the list of those admitted into the program, my name was absent.

i checked with a professor about this, and he looked over my file. "hmm, oh, wow, very impressive," he muttered. and then his eyes dropped down further and so did his tone. "oh. that's the problem. you have a lot of credits. enough to graduate in one more year." he went on to explain to me that because the communications department was so over-crowded, that students were highly encouraged to finish in exactly four years. starting the advertising program now would delay my graduation a semester or two. thus, my only option was to be funneled into the communications studies program.

not liking this idea, i sent a letter of appeal to the department. it was promptly rejected, and i was placed in the last few classes i would need.

i must admit i was upset at first. communications studies? no one even knows what that is. it was the least prestigious track of all the tracks in the communications department, and the communications department wasn't even prestigious. (just ask my father, he's an electrical engineer.)

well, i'll tell you what it is. it's the study of how people communicate: observations from intercultural interactions that reveal so much about why miscommunication happens and the severity of such results (to name one thing). to spare you of my conversion to the field of communication studies, i will simply say that i was SO relieved that i was forced into this. i was much more intellectually stimulated and challenged, and now have so much more respect for this field than i could possibly have for advertising.

now that there is some context, let's return to the previous phenomenon. just because i happen to realize the value of communication after my experience doesn't mean that the rest of the world does. especially not middle-aged adults whose children are my peers. i guess to describe the feelings that go through me each time someone asks one of the aforementioned questions, i would have to say it's a process that looks like this:

1) i know what you're thinking because i thought that before: that this degree is analagous to underwater basketweaving

2) i know what you think i'm thinking now: that i'm very proud of my major and oblivious to the fact that some people actually plan on having a career

3) i know what you think i should think about my own major: see # 1

4) i know you have no idea what communications is or why it's so important and worthy of your respect.

and this is why i grit my teeth and try not to cringe when people ask.

*because of AP credits i had earned while in high school, technically credit-wise i was a senior. so just remember to never go the extra mile because it will come back to kick you in the neck.

hillary, stan, and vince vaughn

normally i like to invent nicknames for people in these stories because it's so much more fun. but in this case, the real names must be used to preserve the authenticity of what happened...

my best friend's sister, "hillary," was in denmark with her father while he was there on business. at the time hillary was about 18, and having lived in sweden for part of her life, spoke fluent swedish. she decided to go on a tour while her father was busy with other things. (i have never been to denmark, but apparently being able to speak swedish is useful there.)

while on the tour, she was in a group with two other tourists. one, a younger-looking man who seemed somewhat familiar. and the other, an old man named stan. hillary noticed a few people approaching the younger man for autographs. she asked him what his name was. he said his name was vince vaughn.

this did not make much of an impression on hillary as she couldn't think of anything this so-called famous actor had acted in. she later asked him again, "wait, what was your name again?" he repeated, "vince vaughn."

as their group of three began the tour it became apparent that stan needed more help than originally thought. when stan pulled out his white cane and started tapping around hillary and vince realized that he was actually quite visually handicapped. they helped stan through the tour, but because stan was very slow, they had a hard time keeping up with the rest of the tour. however, they had a good time and got to know each other quite well.

when the tour had ended, stan was ready to go out on the town with hillary and vince. he seemed to be under the impression that they were friends for at least the rest of the day and should hit a few more tours. but vince helped stan into a cab and they bade a fond farewell to stan. once his cab had left, vince said, "phew! now what do you want to do?" hillary laughed because he seemed so relieved to be rid of stan. vince explained, "now don't get me wrong-- i'm a fan of stan...but he IS a little slow."

hillary and vince spent the rest of the day together enjoying denmark. they went out to eat and hillary asked him what films he had been in. he said that swingers was probably his favorite, but she hadn't seen that. he said he was in jurassic park 2. "jurassic park 2?!" hillary said, making a face. "what? it was a kids' movie!" vince said, defending himself.

apparently he was a perfect gentleman (he called her "kid" a lot) and insisted on paying for everything they did together that day. when it came time to go home, they gave each other a hug and thanked each other for the fun time. i will do my best to get the photo of hillary, vince, and stan together on the tour so i can post it. i know you're dying to see it.

the party crashers

about a week ago i sent an email to my friends inviting them to a "raucous party/ice cream social" because my parents were on a 2 week roadtrip. my parents being gone was really more of a gimmick than anything because my parents knew about it. they were supportive, in fact. still, it was nice to have them out of the way for such an event.

the party would be on a saturday, and as i continued with the party preparations i spoke with my mom during the week about their travel time-frame. we agreed that they would arrive home on sunday night. the day after the party. we spoke several times and each time re-established this itinerary.

the day of the party arrived, and i found myself busy with last minute preparations. in addition to the things i was doing, i had to remember to feed my nephew who was staying alone at my sister's house while she and her husband were on a trip. about an hour before guests could start arriving, i left to pick him up some wendy's. my friend delroxy had arrived early at my house to help prepare. as i waited in the drive-through at wendy's, i got a text from delroxy.

it said: "your parents just came home."

when i read those words i remembered all the times throughout my life that my parents had done things that made me mad, to put it simply. i texted her back: "what!?"

she texted back: "i asked your mom if they had come home early and she said 'i don't think so.'"

after what seemed like an eternity to get home from wendy's, i arrived at my house to see a guest who had already arrived but was sitting in her car. then i saw my mom happily watering her potted plants on the front porch. i got out of my car and said, "what are you doing here? you aren't supposed to be here. i'm having the party, like, right now."

my mom said, "today? but today is sunday!"

no. no. today was NOT sunday.

i explained this to her, and she just couldn't believe it. my step-dad, whom we'll call "tommy," was even taking his sunday pills today, for goodness sake! eventually she came out of denial and went to tell tommy about the mistake they had made.

i had prepared for almost every eventuality for this party, but this! and how could i argue with such a circumstance? it wasn't her fault that she had come back on what she thought was the correct day. i couldn't very well tell her to turn around and go back to mexico...

later, my only regret was that they hadn't shown up in the middle of the party instead of right before. in which case it also would have been awesome if they didn't know about the party, so we could all run and hide ferris bueller style.

maybe next year.

indecent exposure

today my co-worker happened to be talking about how she and her now husband used to sluff in high school to do the horizontal tango. this was no surprise. but the rest of my co-workers and i did not realize how frequently this was done. the tango-ing co-worker, whom i will call rabbit, admitted that they would do this up to three times a day.

as i was laughing about this, someone mentioned something about a ticket rabbit had received. not having knowledge of any of this, i wanted to know what it was for. rabbit had received a ticket about 7 months ago for indecent exposure. she and her husband had pulled off the side of the road for some spontaneous tango-ing in their truck. i asked what time of day it was, and she said, "in the afternoon."

high school girls' choice dances

in high school i had a close group of friends, with whom i still associate. we did all kinds of fun things together, and fancied ourselves rather interesting. however, it was very rare that we ever participated in many of the school dances. some of us had boyfriends on and off, and some didn't. in any case, we weren't exactly socially prestigious.

i only attended two school dances: one my friends and i attended as the spice girls when the theme was a pajama party, and the other time was a girls' choice dance.

i thought i would be bold and ask someone. everyone thought i was crazy for asking who i did because i "hardly knew him." but the fact was that i hardly knew anyone of the opposite sex. so i figured it might as well be someone good. i asked a boy that we'll call wonderbread, because he always wore a wonderbread t-shirt. he ate lunch with some of the people that we ate lunch nearby. he was blond, good-looking, kind of a skater kid. relatively quiet, but incredibly intelligent. apparently our english teacher would get frustrated reading his papers because she had to use a dictionary.

since we live in utah and i was participating in a mormony group date, i had to ask him in a ridiculous way. i don't remember what it was, because i think the other girls on the date planned it. at any rate, this meant that he would also have to answer in a creative way. i received my answer one night when the doorbell rang. i went out on the porch to find one end of a string and a note that said "follow me." i was wearing nothing but an oversized beatles t-shirt, but i went out anyway. i started to follow what seemed to be an entire ball of string strung out in wads all over the neighborhood. as i became entirely focused on this string, i heard a truck peel out from nearby and some guys screaming or laughing, i couldn't tell which. in either case it made me feel like the brunt of some joke.

i got to the end of the string. it was lying in the middle of the road. it had snapped. quite possibly from the obnoxious getaway vehicle, in fact.

this forced me to do the unthinkable: actually talk to the person i would or would not be going to the dance with. i called wonderbread. i explained the situation. i asked him where the string had ended, and he said that it had ended in a pumpkin that had the answer inside. i then, awkwardly, asked what the answer had said. i did this fully realizing that this could be, and quite possibly was, a lie. he said that the answer was, "yes."

we went to the dance. it was for halloween, so we went to DI to dress our dates in the weirdest clothing we could find. i think wonderbread spoke to me a total of three times during the night. we danced one dance together and the rest of the time he spent avoiding me.

and i began to wonder if that pumpkin had really contained a different answer than he said it had. something more like what he answered the next girl that asked him to a dance. he left her a rose and a note that said:

unscramble the answer: ON