sappy but happy

"I like reading.  And writing.  And talking.  I think I'll go to law school!" 

That was the extent of my logic. I was young (21) and crazy (let's leave it at that).  Plus I was big into politics and politicians are all lawyers.  Deep analysis, I know.  I signed up for an LSAT class on a whim, right around the time I started dating a hilarious, pensive kid in my French class. I finished up my law school applications at a public library in the middle of nowhere New York, with my poor mission companion (now a Mary Kay lady) reading over my personal statement wondering how to get me to hurry so we could hit the laundromat and maybe have time to grab a sammich.

Anyway, in those days, I thought I was such a big deal.  I had big, big plans that involved big, big schools (and big, big debt) and no husband and definitely no babies. Remember how I met this guy who talked me into the J. Reub?

The first time I walked into the law school for a tour, I had been home from my mission for three days. I was incredibly awkward, naively earnest and cringe-tastically self-conscious in a way that only sister missionaries with an extra twenty pounds can be. By the first day of class that August, I was still awkward, earnest, and self-conscious, only now I was engaged to that handsome kid from French class.

Early one Saturday morning when I was a 2L, my car wouldn't start.  I had about an hour to travel fifty miles and argue in front of a panel of judges about whether pre-arrest silence could be used as substantive evidence of guilt.  (Riveting, right?)  I'd been preparing for months. So even though my new husband was fast asleep and had a million places to be later that day, with thirty seconds notice, he drove me the fifty miles (in his PJs, no less) and I made it there with about thirty seconds to spare. And when it was over, my mom drove me the whole way home.  Ditching your plentiful Saturday plans at the drop of a hat to help your wife or daughter do her thing.  Is that true love or what? 

Because of that Saturday, I ended up winning an award that made it sound like I had cancer.  (Spoiler alert: I don't.) 

And one of the law school secretaries left me an awesome "Where are you????" voicemail as I was giving birth because my Wills and Estates final was starting.  Husband spent several long, will-send-him-straight-to-heaven hours trying to distract our hungry newborn in a study room as I sat on one of those inflatable donuts and made up the test 7 days later.

Remember how on the first day of school as a 3L, at the last minute I had to bring my four-month-old baby to class?  And how I ended up staying at school with her for more than twelve hours as classes and meetings piled up, and my car broke down on the freeway on the way home and EVEN THE HAZARD LIGHTS WOULDN'T WORK?

And how about when we decided to move to the Midwest on a whim a week after graduation and I had to take two bar exams?  And when my mom babysat her brains out so I could study for the first exam, and then sponsored my Beehive babysitting fund from 1200 miles away to allow me to study for the second?

Anyway, it's been such a cool and varied experience and a significant number of my favorite people on earth are people I met in law school.  And, pretty much every milestone I've had as an adult has happened between point A of deciding to go to law school (meet hub, finish college, serve mission, adjust from mission, engagement, marriage, pregnancy, hub starts grad school, childbirth, first job, first move across the country, second baby) and point B of actually becoming a lawyer where we live (this week). 

All of these tidbits were running through my head this week, because on Monday, my two-and-a-half-year-old tugged on my suitcoat as my dear husband distracted our eight-month-old with some blueberry puffs, and I was sworn in as a lawyer in our new state. The new lawyers being admitted were scattered throughout the small auditorium, sitting here and there in the crowd with their families. We all stood, repeating "I will" in unison after the Justice posed each question. 

And I don't know quite how to describe it, but as our little girl wrapped her arms around my legs, our baby clapped excitedly and tugged on my necklace, and my happy but exhausted husband smiled at me, I wondered what the young-and-crazy "big deal" gurrbonzo would have thought of this picture. 

And I think she'd like it.

hard-earned wisdom

Hello friends. I've been e-absent for some time but think of you often and fondly. Thanks to some generous in-laws, one day you might find yourself on a weeklong trip with a bunch of extended fam to the beautiful land of Hawaii, and if you do, and you happen to have a kid or two and be 33 weeks pregnant at the time, you'll thank me for what I'm about to share.

Some advice:

• There is no need to be self-conscious because there will be many, many women who are way more pregnant than you are but they will be wearing significantly fewer items of clothing.
  
• There is nothing in life that can't be improved with a few palm trees, an ocean breeze and some sunshine. Also, a ukelele. And caramacs.
• Nothing will melt your heart more than watching your cute kiddo bond with her cousins in Utah (where you made a brief stop) and then MORE cousins on the island except maybe when she puts on sunglasses and a hat and bright pink sandals and runs for the door shouting "Beach! Daddy! Beach!"
• If anyone sees you wearing a swimsuit cover-up and says "WOW! One size really DOES fit all!" just trust that they mean it nicely.
  
• If the beehives in your ward are big into The Mysterious Benedict Society, go ahead and use this vacation time to climb on that train, as you'll likely find it delightful.
• Most importantly, if you take the red-eye flight home, take an extra shirt for yourself on the off chance that the turbulence could cause your cute toddler to barf on you, thrice, when you still have 2 hours of the flight and a 2 hour layover and another 2 hour flight ahead of you. I hope you'll already have a change of clothes for the kid and a helpful spouse to crack up about it with, but if you don't pack yourself an extra shirt, you may find your very pregnant self in the airplane crapper, standing in your undies as you wring your clothing out and then put it back on. You'll eventually buy a horrible (though, fortunately, clean) t-shirt at the airport that says DENVER on it in enormous letters across your burgeoning belly and spend the rest of your journey realizing that you not only smell awful and look horrifying but your feet have swollen to a remarkable size that makes the term "cankle" seem quaint. But, you'll be grateful you won't see a soul you know. Which might remind you of when you bought a freaking jumper at Dollar General on your mission as a joke and the ONE day you ever wore it happened to be the day you ran into someone you knew from regular life. And if there's anything better than running into someone you know while wearing a jumper, it's probably running into someone you know while wearing a extra-large DENVER AIRPORT t-shirt over your generous belly and smelling of old toddler-vomit with tree trunks for ankles.
  

Anyway. Aloha!

The circus, Lagoon and your 6th grade science fair, combined and on crack

Hard living ages you, so it's tough to guess if he was 65 or 80, but he was definitely too old to have all those naked ladies tattooed up and down his arms. His bald head was a gleaming, veiny mix of wrinkly old man tan and sweat but luckily we were still able to decipher the blue tattoo on his cranium that said "THAT TURNS ME ON!" in block letters. We listened to his smokey laugh as everyone gazed at the miniature horses dressed like ninjas and tried not to hurl from the manure and body odor swirling around the barn.

The Iowa State Fair is ridiculous, overwhelming and awesome. And I say awesome less like "far out" and more like truly awe-inducing bc this thing is unbelievable.

The 4-H exhibit hall was out of control cool. Breathtaking wooden porch swings and bed frames and gun cases, all handcrafted by 13- and 14-year-olds, ridiculously interesting and funky photographs, complicated quilts, the whole bit. Basically, name something people can make and/or grow, and the blue ribbon winners and runners-up were on display. We also saw posters presenting things like "Iowa's Owls," "Types of Beef Cuts and How to Best Prepare Them," and "Making Your Own 100-calorie Snack Packs Will Save You $137 a Year." To our delight, the incredible mix of stuff was perfectly illustrated by the fact that the picture-enhanced "Deer Hunting with Disabilities" poster was right next to "The Life of J.S. Bach." And on stage, two 9-year-old boys played Chopsticks (though the poster advertised it as "Chop-ticks") on the piano for an appreciative audience of several hundred fair-goers, while moments later, three overweight 20-somethings in sequins took the stage to gyrate/lip-sync to "Hit Me With Your Best Shot!"

That was all just in the first building.

Wow.

In another huge building, there was a 1,100-pound pumpkin and blue ribbon cucumbers, zucchinis, gourds, corn, and everything else you can think of. We honored the winners of the weed identification contest and drooled over the best strawberries and soy beans in the state before comparing the size and texture of various apples. We later sauntered through an incredible milking station and applauded the enormous and virile "Super Bull." And most of all, we saw droves and droves of people. An estimated 100,000+ people A DAY go to this thing and it is NUTS.

(Turkey legs, which, as you may know, are significantly bigger than they appear so when you eat one you look like a Viking.)

Though we ate only a few regular treats and a turkey leg (and felt delightfully barbaric), we could have easily sampled: BBQ everything, walking tacos, po' boys, fried candy bars on a stick, fried oreos on a stick, fried twinkies on a stick, pork chop on a stick, funnel cakes on a stick, hardboiled egg on a stick, veggie dog on a stick, fried pickle on a stick, cotton candy-flavored fudge, fried mac-and-cheese, and bacon dipped in your choice of cheese or chocolate. We could have also partaken of a fried wonder entitled the Potato Lollipop.

Thanks to a sweet, exhausted kiddo who loved petting the cows and making friends but who did NOT love missing her nap, plus a mid-afternoon rainstorm, we didn't get to see everything this time, but apparently we missed arm wrestling, sheep shearing and even a cow made of butter.


Had we gone in previous years, reliable sources indicate that we could have seen a life-sized butter sculpture of Tiger Woods and Iowa's own olympic gymnast Shawn Johnson.

Can you feel the magic?

umm, kind of.

Studies are so all-consuming (particularly now that I'm in the same state as two of my child's grandmas and therefore have, as a certain former boss of mine used to insist was an accepted term, "uni-dimensional focus") that I have twitchy-eye, and so I cope with things that pop into my head, e.g., this.

Once, years ago, I lived in an upstairs apartment with a bunch of other sophisticated/fabulous women, and a kind but awkward young married couple lived below us. They were particularly impressive when it came to skills such as slow blinking, open-mouth stares, odd forced laughter at bizarre times, and so forth. They were so painfully awkward that one of our roommates began to refer to them, collectively, as Socially Inept. As in, "Socially Inept dropped by," or "Here's that note from Socially Inept." They were technically the apartment "managers" but I'm not sure what that job consisted of except pausing longer than necessary in polite conversation, looking mousy, and leaving the occasional passive-aggressive note. But we loved them.

One day, I came home to find a typed note taped to our door. If you're wondering if it immediately went on our fridge for about a year, the answer is yes.

Dear Residents,

Please do not park in spots that are not assigned to you, even briefly, as it causes other tenants incontinence. Thanks,

The Management.

hrmm

"I like fry sauce. Those people who don't like fry sauce? I don't trust them."
--my dear friend Rachel W. at JCWs today

Discuss.

things on my mind and therefore my blog:

Hi everyone! Still aliving, still thriving, still word-vomiting on the internet from time to time. Ready?

• Today's bar studies brought me this unfortunate phrase: "...which are taxes in the state where the sale was consummated." CONSUMMATED? Ew! When I told hub he said it sounded "fiduciarily erotic."
  
• Sometimes I forget about odd little things, and when I see them, there is a brief flash of recognition. One example: when I see a bumper sticker for Peter Corroon, like I did when parking at the library today, I think "Oh yeah! Peter Corroon! I forgot about him." Same with Blanche from Golden Girls. Kind of.
• Sometimes I get a lot of feminist rage when people act like I have mush for brains bc I'm a female and a parent. Grumble grumble.
• I like it when people share real stories about real problems, particularly in church settings. A few weeks ago we had one of those 5th-week-Sunday joint men/women meetings at church and guess what it was about? Not food storage, not gossip, not dutch oven cooking. Drug addiction. Several recovering addicts shared their stories and they passed out a sheet with meeting info (location, time, place) of various addiction meetings around the area. It was one of the more intense church meetings I've attended, but really refreshing to see concrete gospel-in-action stuff. Not "I had to learn to...(sniffle)...forgive the meanie teacher who said something bad about my perfect 10-year-old at parent-teacher conference! SAD!" but legit, full-fledged, raw and honest "I hit rock bottom in more ways than you can imagine and today I'm putting the pieces together with God's help and here's where you can show up if you have the same problem." To the whole congregation. I like it.
  
• I prefer living in the same state as my husband. While we're only apart for a week or two, it is not my favorite thing and I salute those that survive it.
  
• I also prefer spending time with my kid over studying. She is way more hilarious and interesting than trying to figure out what rights vest when and if it matters that one party's not a merchant and who has the burden of proof when and (did your eyes glaze over? MINE TOO!). Anyway, our cute one-year-old does a lot of awesome things. For example, she dresses up like an old lady lately. Yesterday she started walking around with assorted necklaces on, a bright orange visor, my mom's keys on one of those long teacher key chains (what are they called?), holding a neon yellow container in one hand and a Reader's Digest in the other. She looked like she was heading to the RV to play a bit of bridge and/or canasta. I love that kid.
• You know those long key chains? What are they called? Lanyards? Anyway, you're allowed to have them, you really are, especially if you're a school teacher or a referree or something. But can you think of ANYTHING more annoying than people spinning them around and around mindlessly in public places!? Ack!
• What preposition do you use after forbidden? Are you forbidden TO do something? Are you forbidden FROM doing something? Not sure. Turns out 20 years of school still leaves you wondering about (or should i say wondering through) these pressing matters.

Welllp, that's about it. What's on YOUR mind?

whew!

Big changes are brewing in the bonzo household. May I present a few quotes regarding said changes?

"A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving." --Lao Tzu

"It takes a lot of courage to release the familiar and seemingly secure, to embrace the new. But there is no real security in what is no longer meaningful. There is more security in the adventurous and exciting, for in movement there is life, and in change there is power."
--(I'm shy about attributing this quote accurately bc it's the Chicken Soup for the Soul guy. Seriously. Next thing you know I'm rocking the ropes course and doing the trust fall. Let's pretend it's Lincoln.)

"Whoa." -- Me and hub, repeatedly, over the last several days.

We're moving to Iowa. I KNOW! I know! You're thinking, Iowa, seriously? Who moves to Iowa? Apparently me and my fam. What do you think of the midwest? Is it as green and interesting and soothing as it seems? Anywhere that has a farmer's market on WEDNESDAY NIGHT instead of only on Saturday morning is a place I like. If you add in a gorgeous old campus and some hole in the wall restaurants, hey, sign me up.

Monday we left on an awesome road trip, not sure where we were going or when we'd be back, just knowing we'd be in Iowa for husband's job interview (for a position right up his master of public policy alley) on Wednesday. Welllllp, we got in Tuesday night, and while he interviewed, our cute kid and I explored the surprisingly awesome town...it was pretty gross out so we hit a museum or two and the awesome new public library and awaited word. Turns out he rocked the hell out of his interview and they offered him the job that afternoon and in a surprising turn of events we found an awesome house and put an offer on it Thursday.

It's not as rash as it sounds, I promise. We'd been talking about buying a house for...um...twelve hours.

Whatever. Sometimes you just need to grow a spine and spice up your life. And by you I mean me.

Friday we signed the bank stuff and hit the road to Canada right in time for a Saturday wedding reception and some quality time with the extended fam, and got home yesterday. 3,600 miles in eight days with an abrupt decision to borrow six figures and move halfway across the country to somewhere we spent 72 hours in once.

hell yeah.

Now we just need to move out of our current place, sell our old cars, blahblah. Who needs furniture when you can have a YARD? Oh yeah, and there's that whole bar exam thing. Whatever.

Let's get this show on the road. Want to visit?

presenting a haphazard assortment of thoughts brought to you by Gurrbonzo, J.D.

*When I hear someone say "My bad!" I always pause for a moment and wonder if it's 1995.

*Sometimes, I pick up dinner from Paradise Bakery, but every time I order something to go, they hand me the bag to put it in, rather than just put the food in the bag themselves. This causes me to stand right in the way for a few minutes while I unfold said bag and put the stuff inside it, and each time I get rage. Why are you making me do this task that you could do much more easily, and for which you are paid?

*Similarly, I will go pretty far out of my way to hit up a Harmon's grocery store because they don't make me take the stuff out of my cart myself, and the ease and joy involved in not having that assignment be my problem is worth nigh unto any price, and it's kind of embarrassing how much I like it.


*Today I busted out some negotiation skills on a car dealer and it was empowering.


*One reason MCB and I are friends is because she sends me text messages like this one: "There are a bunch of wiccan goth types at Joann's. I love humanity."

*Today I bought our baby some adorable pink sandals. They were in a little bag so I didn't realize til after I got home that THE HEELS SQUEAK. That's right. Shoes for a one year old. Who just started walking. And they SQUEAK WITH EVERY STEP. Umm. Shoot me. Whose idea was that?

*The rumor is that in Mexico and Germany they call lawyers "doctor." Is that true? If so, can we start that up again here? But if I were a real doctor I'd be pissed bc I would have gone to a dozen more years of school than the fake lawyer doctors and I'd want them to know their role.

*I love it when someone I initially thought was boring and/or two-dimensional ends up being awesome. Those are my favorite surprises.

*Also, I graduated from law school this week. I don't know what to say about it except that honestly, there were times when I thought this day would never come, especially during the first year which, for me, was just as intense as everyone says it is. I had some serious "I've made a huge mistake" moments a la Gob Bluth before I found my groove. And now, suddenly it's all past tense. When I think about all the people I've met, and about my dear hub and my mom and a billion other family members who picked up so much of my school-induced slack and without whom this would never have happened, and when I think about the time going to law school first dawned on me as a painfully clueless 21-year-old pseudo-snicket, and when I remember applying to law school on a few p-days in the library in Shortsville, NY, and starting to hear back from law schools during the last few months of my mission and wondering what the freak the future held for me, and now I have a cute one-year-old and a J.D., I get a little disoriented and a little teary-eyed and a lot happy.
And then I think about the bar.

*I know they are different, but when I think about times in my life (mission, childbirth, law school, to name a few) where I have honestly felt like I could pick up the planet or a house or run across the country, just that for a split second I feel like I really can do anything, I want to do more hard things, because it is awesome. So for a split second I get why people become crazy triathletes and all of that. I mean, not enough to DO that, but I get it, and invite you to do something hard because in my admittedly minimal experience it's basically the best feeling in the world, and I can't think of anything more rewarding than realizing that hey, you know that thing you thought you couldn't do?
You just did.

today I played a game called "name that chick"

It was bizarre and fun.

Speaking of bizarre, I listened to this podcast yesterday about 10 bizarre ways to die. (I've climbed on the "How Stuff Works" train lately and am slowly building up a startling reservoir of useless information.) Unfortunately, the website is one of those that makes you click "next" a thousand times instead of just showing you the whole article, so I'll do you a favor and jump you right to the weirdest one.

Anyway, the Name that Chick game involved charades-meets-Catchphrase/Taboo sort of antics where we acted out a solid assortment of famous women, including:

Oprah Winfrey
Catherine Mackinnon
Gwyneth Paltrow
Bella Abzug
Clara Barton
Diane Sawyer
Picabo Street

I don't know if you can really beat that as far as bizarre fun goes. Or can you?

shake it!

Just finished my last final and I'm high (on life)!! Time wise I'm 83% done with law school but credit-wise I'm 91% of the way done with law school and it feels pretty good and I just want to do this....remember this??:



Last time I had finals it was within a week of pushing out a baby so this time, I'm frazzled but not ablaze in private places, so that's a plus. Time for a vacation, and by vacation, I mean cuddle my cute kiddo all day every day and consume a lot of Cap'n Crunch. Feel free to e-high five me. Also, it's embarrassing how much Beyonce's latest album is spicing up my life. "PUT YOUR HANDS UP!"

the superhighway?

"You can see it on the net! Written on the blogs and on the facebooks."

--my professor, 30 seconds ago

I know, I KNOW!

Yes, I am still alive and no, I haven't disappeared or been kidnapped. I am going a little cross-eyed because there are 500,000 things going on and my life is out of control (good way) with law school over-involvement and hub's grad school and our sweet baby and a 90 mile commute and lunch dates and avoiding crazies and everything. Please note that our kiddo gets the giggles these days and it's killing me. Do I still e-love you? Yes. Will I be back to consistent regular old blogging soon? Perrrrhaps.

thrilled, I tell you

Can't wait for this to be the new first family...


I get the happy-tingles thinking about this country having a president who can explain WHY he makes certain decisions and that even when we disagree, we'll know that he thought it through. Our cute kid is wearing her Obama onesie proudly and yesterday, husband and I wore our shirts and people were high-fiving us left and right...elderly neighbors, the lady who gave me my Costco hot dog, the parking guy at school. What a great year to be alive! I took a con law class this summer and it reminded me how it was not all that long ago (in the lifetime of people reading this blog, even) that white people in mainstream America flipped out at the idea of a black classmate...a black first family was totally unfathomable. Now we are hours away and I can feel the excitement in the air! Can you??

jiggy

Will Smith and I are both parents, we both hate Carlton, we both cried during the Pursuit of Happiness, we both rap AND we were both born today. Okay, so there are a few differences--he's black, I'm white, he fought aliens, I am an alien, he's 40, I'm 26. Whatever.

((birthday shimmy))

26, Internets!! Can you believe it?? Are you gasping bc my youthful exuberance convinced you I was younger, or bc my startling maturity convinced you I was older? I know, I know, my fart jokes and casual swearing make me come off pretty cultured. Either way, it's been awesome. Hub has to do his VIP job teaching wee minds this evening, so cute baby and I had a serious girls-only pajama party...we both rolled to the Redbox for a cheesy husband-would-never-want-to-watch-it flick, grabbed ourselves a bit of Little Caesars and put on our pajarmas. We both drooled as I tried (and ruined) a few chocolate-covered oreos, now I sup diet cola and she sups my teet as we wait for Andrew to get home. Pretty chill, pretty nice, pretty awesome.

Bonz's gabfest

How have I not blogged about my love for Slate's political gabfest before and how my eyes light up when I see it appear each week?? I could TOTALLY do Emily Bazelon's job, i.e., shoot the shiz once a week about politics and have people tell me I'm awesome and get paid for it and come up with a cocktail chatter tidbit. I especially like that they interrupt one another bc as you know I prefer interruptors. Another reason I want to be her is that it turns out there's something called a Fellow of Law and Creative Writing...YES PLEASE. Seriously, start listening to Slate's political gabfest every week and it's like having a lunch date but in your undies while you eat Life cereal and make funny faces at your cute baby, if you have one, and ignore your damn homework.

Here's MY cocktail chatter: the Sarah Palin Baby Name Generator is a freaking genius idea. My own Sarah Palin baby name is not really that funny bc it's not believable (I'd be named Mullett Troll Palin) but hub would be Rock Crane Palin and baby would be Buster Taint Palin and our CUTE NEW NEPHEW (welcome to your life, buddy!) would be named Spackle Camshaft Palin). What would you be named had you been born to Sarah Palin?? Check it out, and you're welcome for the tip.

Lest you be overwhelmed by my striking maturity, just want to remind you that I'd like to arrange things like this in my spare time:

I really do this all the time.

A gift from heav'n

Cheap, close, reasonably healthy, delish.

I could eat there daily and sometimes I do.

Chipotle, I love thee.

A few things I've learned this week

1. In an effort to find a kitchen item you got as a wedding present and have yet to utilize, you may have to venture into the Closet of Doom, so named because it is scary and DOOMLIKE, impossibly full and everything inside it is perched precariously on top of everything else. In digging through the Closet of Doom, you will discover the item you're looking for beneath Clue, a cooler, a camping chair, and a huge box of Sweet & Salty Nature Valley granola bars purchased many months ago which you will begin eating immediately, and you may also stumble upon a Hillary Clinton Boogie Diva doll.

2. If you aren't a crafty person, make peace with that, because venturing into the unknown world of craft two days before Father's Day in an effort to make your hub something awesomely creative will probably result in an embarrassing disaster and 3 separate trips to the crafty store where the women working there will laugh at you for not knowing what the hell "decoupage" is.

3. If your baby happens to poop all over your skirt at church, you can try to act natural, but orange on white is not camouflage.

4. If you feel ambitious and bust through some recipe books looking for the easiest things you can find, and then you decide to use a crockpot for the first time in your life, it will probably remind you of a time right before you got married when a friend said, "Remember, boys are like microwaves and girls are like crockpots," and then you will be grossed out.

Reasons You Should Applaud My Bravery

1. Saturday I got in a swimsuit. Six and a half weeks after pushing out a kid. Good job, eh?
2. We blessed our cute baby Sunday and she was really cute and really good and really cute. Same with hub, who refrained from changing her name during the blessing; I shall therefore bear him more children.
3. We actually (gasp!) cleaned up our home in anticipation of the festivities involved in the event mentioned in #2. This includes the bathroom...yikes.
4. I got up in front of the whole congregation even though I was 90 percent sure my boobs were about to leak.

WTF

Since most of things going on in my life are things I refuse to blog about on principle in my effort not to become one of THOSE people (you know, blogging about poop, diapers, bathtime, boogers, how absurdly cute our child is and how I gush over her all day, how freaking adorable her gas smiles are, how she hypnotizes me with her wise gaze and how my newfound mom-cheesiness is OFF THE CHARTS...I'm going to keep all that to myself...and not even mention how FREAKING CUTE SHE IS...I'll keep quiet), I shall now share a little something that's cracking me up:

• "Hey, let's commit a crime. I want some fast cash, and I want it to involve gunpoint, and I want to be a bad-ass criminal. No, banks are too scary. No, not a home with valuables. I know! ARCTIC CIRCLE. IN TAYLORSVILLE. THAT'S where the big bucks are." Genius. And while I was reading that, a pop up ad told me I could lose 15 lbs by April 25th. Tempting, considering THAT WAS TWO WEEKS AGO. Where am I?
  

In other news, last night we finished Season 3 of Lost. That means I've spent approximately 50 hours of my life watching that show in the last few months, and if that shan't make me proud, nothing shall.