What is This World Coming To?

Have you heard? The Boy Scouts saw a need to introduce a gaming merit badge. You know, because gaming is a big part of character building, which is what they are all about. I can imagine them, sitting around the table, scratching their heads, and saying, gorsh, what can we do to encourage boys to be better men? Hmm... Scratch, scratch. Then, ah ha! The light bulb came on. What boys need is more gaming. Because they are lacking that time in front of the TV nowadays. Those young hoodlums are spending way too much time gallavanting outdoors, building fires and learning how to give CPR. We need to bring more balance to their lives. But HOW can we convince them to spend more time on the X Box? You know, when we were kids, you didn't have to convince kids that gaming was important. They did it because it was the RIGHT thing to do, and you didn't have to bribe them. That's because our parents taught us what was most important. Kids just don't get that nowadays. That's it, fellas, we're going to make it a merit badge!

Phew. I'm so glad that the BSA has it's priorities straight. Our youth will be raised up right, and the next generation will have... really twitchy thumbs and no social skills.

Stinking Filarious.

I can talk good. I would like to introduce you to some new lingo you should integrate into your vocabulary.

1. Filarious. When funny doesn't cut it and hilarious seems too... easy.
2. Therapicky. Or Therapeuticky. For those feel-good moments after those feel-bad moments.

Top that, Webster.

If I were to get a tattoo...

I have friends with tattoos, and they have all these deep meaningful things. Besides the whole being a conservative little Mormon girl reason, I have never considered getting a tattoo because I am lame and see no deep meaningful symbols around me that I wouldn't get bored with in a few months. Here are my ideas on my tattoo that I'm totally going to get soon.

1. Kermit. I'm going to have the kermit collar put on my neck. Hot, right? Or should I say... hawt?
2. Cookie Monster. Possibly on my belly. Since that's where my cookie monster lives.
3. A huge seagull. All the way across my back. Because my inner voice says "Mine. Mine. Mine.Mine. Mine."
4. A daisy on my toe. To be original. (It's just a taaaaattoo of a flower, so I'll feel groovy, while takin' a shower. Er something.)

Yeah. There's a reason I don't have one. Okay, there's the whole Mormon thing too. But I feel that I have illustrated why we should all agree that I have made a wise decision all around.

Thought for the Day

"There is no limit to the good you can do, if you don't care who gets the credit." Harold B. Lee

My Friends Love Mormons.*

Hey, did I tell you guys that I'm Mormon? Wait, don't freak out and stop reading. I won't make any sudden movements, and I have not prepared a gospel message to share. Breeeeath.

I try to be fairly open about my religion, and one of the things I love about my closest friends, most of whom are not Mormon, is the genuine and respect they have for my personal beliefs. It affects the way I live, down to some of the day-to-day things that people take for granted. I've noticed that some friends are more open to hearing me explain our quirky Mormon ways than others. It's as though some people think that if they are not careful, I'm going to sneak up on them behind and dunk them in the baptismal font like a pool party game gone awry. Put away the arm floaties.Totally not going to happen.

I've found, though, that even if I try to explain a belief or cultural piece I generally get three very distinct reactions.

1. They try to change the subject as soon as possible. Their inner dialogue
goes something like this: "why is she telling me this? I didn't even ask her
about this. She knows I'm not interested. Maybe I should tell her in no
uncertain terms that I am not interested. I know, as soon as she takes a breath,
I will move on to some other topic."

2. They listen, trying to understand my crazy ways, because the information
helps put some things I share with them into context. Inner dialogue: "What is
this Visiting Teaching term you are throwing around? And you are in
the Relief Society presidency? It's a calling? You and your crazy Mormon slang!"

3. They become hostile. Inner dialogue (which really, at this point,
generally becomes outer dialogue and a very hurtful conversation): "Why would
you believe that? I've heard a, b, and c rumors (all false, twisted, and
offensive). I read it online, and I think you are being fed lies. Your life
would be so much happier if you would pull the wool out from over your
eyes and drink more."

One of my oldest friends, Carrie, is an example of type two. She's been to some church activities with me. She is happy with the way her life is, and she didn't have to tell me that because I know her well enough to know. And I have not, as yet, sneaked up behind her and dunked her in the baptismal font. I'm coming up from behind, all quiet-like see? Those Mormons are wily. She knows what callings are, and could probably even tell you what some of mine have been, dating back to high school. She knows how they have impacted my life. That's important to me. It makes me sad when friends, in what they think is a subtle way, change the subject when I try to talk about my parts of my life that involve my church. If you don't know what I do at church, or what my calling is, there's a whole huge part of my life you have no idea about. I can't vent to you about frustrations I have with something I am struggling with since you don't have the context. I can't tell you a funny story if it requires the context of understanding our meetings and how they work and other little nuances. Don't get me wrong, I have learned how to translate fairly well. But I realize a while ago, when I was telling Carrie a story about something that happened that involved my church life, that I felt relief. Because she has never required me to keep that life separate from our friendship. And that makes for a much more healthy friendship, don't you think?


In regards to type three, I don't encounter that type very much in my friends. And I think it is important to make the distinction that I don't mind having discussions with friends about doctrine in my church they disagree with. I had a friend tell me just last week that something I believe seemed bizarre to her. But she was respectful of my dedication and recognized the importance of the belief to me, too. I'm not offended if you look at some point of doctrine differently, or if you think something I believe is wacky. It's all about how the discussion is had. If we are both careful to respect each other's beliefs, then it can be educational and eye-opening on both ends. People who approach me this way often learn that they have misunderstood the doctrine, and often I come to understand how my friend views my church, what they believe, and why they might think something I believe is a little crazy.

*Much like the guy on The Anchorman who "loves lamp," Mad Hatter Loves Mormons. I tried to find a clip to illustrate but I can't find one of the whole scene and you need the buildup to understand..

Would you make fun of me if I told you I reeeeally want to make these? And eat them?

I Have Officially Diagnosed Myself.

I definitely have Carpal Tunnel Syndrome. I know this because one of the symptoms is the tendency to drop things, and I have been doing that since, like, birth. I'm so glad I've finally solved that mystery.

Got any illnesses I can diagnose for you?

Swim, Swim, Fishy, Fishy!

I went fishing today. For the first time ever. FFW (see yesterday's blog), who I shall call Fisher today, because I still don't have a permanent blog name for her, attempted to teach me. It was a valiant effort. My favorite part was when the shiny thing on the end (jig? it is through no fault of Fisher's I do not know this)would emerge from the water. I don't really care that there was probably no fish dumb enough to be fooled by my awkward attempts. It was good times. And I am now licensed, so yeah. I will be a pro. In my head.

I wanted to post the fishy song that came into my head when I titled this post, but I can't find it anywhere on the innernets. At my last job, we had a craft that we did with some kids at an info night at a school where they made fish puppets. My boss was doing the craft with the kids while I chatted up the parents. She wanted to teach them a song about fishes so they could put on a little show for the parents at the end. The song we found on the Internet was adorable, and got stuck in all our heads. Of course, by the time that night came, my boss could not remember the tune, so it became more of a chant. So, sorry, it won't be in YOUR head. Unless you want to call me, because I will totally sing it for you.

I couldn't find THAT fishy song, but I DID find this. Luckies.

Peer Pressure

I have come to the realization that I am a huge slob. Shush, peanut gallery. I went on a cleaning flurry tonight. It was caused partially by my effort not to throw a tantrum, and to use my energies for good instead of evil. The other part of it was the part where, after my initial cleaning, I realized that some might mock what I considered my clean orderly trunk. Specifically Friend from Work, who has yet to have a blog name assigned her, unless it's FFW. I don't heart that name though. I do heart saying heart this week, though. Anyways, the other night she told me that she hangs up most of her clothes, and that her hangers and the shirts on them all have to be hanging in the same direction or something wackadoodle like that. And so I mocked her. And realized that I am a big slob. Because,

1. I don't fold my clothes straight out of the dryer, which apparently happens in real life, as well as on the Brady Bunch when Alice is in charge.
2. I don't hang up my clothes that need hanging straight out of the dryer either. Because that is effort. I consider the effort I take to pull them from the pile I've thrown on my beanbag and drape them on my chair as sufficient. So, really, I sometimes don't hang them up at all, because once they are in the chair I can just sort through them to pick out my outfit for the next day anyways.
3. I don't iron. People who iron are crazy. And FFW and K both iron their jeans, so I know TWO REALLY CRAZY people. My theory is, it will get wrinkled in the car anyways. So if my skirt is a little wrinkly, it will just look like I drove to church or work or whatever. It happens. Why not just forgo the work part and get straight to the sitting induced wrinkles. Or in my case, the I-don't-hang-up-my-clothes wrinkles. I'm a believer in efficiency, what can I say.

So anyways, I cleaned my trunk tonight, and then I had to go back and tidy up the clean trunk. Because the wad of canvas bags I have for shopping COULD be folded instead of wadded, after all. So I kind of sort of folded each one into a wad as I shoved it into the holder bag. And the first aid kit could go under my front seat or something. So I hucked that up in the back seat, because that's one step closer to the front seat, being in the passenger part of the car. And I suppoooooose I could take the sleeping bag that has been there since I went to camp in mid-March up to my closet. But I draw the line at taking the bowling ball upstairs. Because you never know when a spontaneous bowling trip will occur, and I want to be sure that I have my own ball and shoes on hand.

The moral of the story is, I suck at cleaning. But I take pride in the little things. Like that I threw away the bagels that have been in the back seat since... you know, what, I don't judge you. Don't judge me.

Wow, Oprah, That IS a Very Serious Issue.

I was just watching the Oprah episode in which we meet the cast of Glee. Which by the way, I heart Glee. A lot. I don't understand people who don't. You know who you are. I still love you and all, but I'm a little sad for you, seeing as how your life is not complete. Anyways, I was just watching this Oprah, and they did the little "tomorrow on Oprah" segment right before commercial. Tomorrow on Oprah, they are having couples talk about their dysfunctional sex lives on national television, which, you know, will totally help. But one of the women literally refuses to kiss her husband because "it makes (her) skin crawl." Seriously? I would get if he had gotten all funny looking in his old age, but in the clip he actually appeared fairly attractive and as though he visits the gym far more regularly than I do, if that's possible. But perhaps there is a certain funk that you cannot detect seeing as how tv's don't broadcast smell? What could it be? I'm so intrigued. Almost intrigued enough to watch. But I go to Dr. Phil for my dysfunctional family moments. I don't know if I can cheat on him like that.