Death to the Hangout Kings

Only in Provo is "hanging out" spoken out against. Date. Date. Date! is the mantra now. Actually that's not entirely accurate. We just have this ecclesiastical leader who thinks that all the boys in our ward are shallow and will only ask out hott girls. Or the Bishop thinks that the guys go over in droves of four or five to ravage the girls' apartments of their food. Okay. Whatever.

The problem is you have a couple of girls who go crying to the Bishop about how they are not getting asked out. Translation: They are not getting asked out by the ward 6-Pack and turn down any guy that looks a little like John Heder. (No offense to dear Napolean.) And I said looks a little, not acts a lot like. :) Get with it girls and get with it dear Bishop. I agree that some of the guys need to date more. And, sometimes it's a little hard to understand what a guy's intentions are if he is coming over frequently but never taking the relationship to the next level. (Although if you are just misconstruing friendship for something more than that's your fault chica.) But honestly, I'd rather get asked out less than get asked out every night of the week by some stranger I don't really know to walk around Kiwanis Park for the eighth time sharing a fifty cent ice cream cone. Can you even buy a fifty cent ice cream anymore? Oh well, as they say in Italy Chu ca fa (or something like that).

Focaccia!

Another couple of crazy weeks gone by. Last Saturday I went on a double date with my roommate. It was the first time we had been invited out on a date together. We went rock climbing which was a lot of fun. Well, we like to say 3/4 of the date was fun. We liked the activity, we liked being with each other, and we liked one of our dates. The other was well... you meet all kinds of people here. :p And, no comment on whether it was her or my date.

Anyhow at one point during the date we had a little fire to roast marshmallows. My date served a mission in Italy so he knew Italian. I know Spanish so I thought I'd have some fun con la lenguaje. As he was building the fire I said in a somewhat sultry voice Que bella. To which he responded Mama Mia! Lake was like what the heck are you saying. So I repeated the conversation and she blurted out loudly "well then... Focaccia! Rigatoni!" I love her.

But my life has been full of white Utahns who know Italian. Especially one in particular... That's right! Emily has finally progressed to developing a crush on a boy! Who knows where this will lead. At least I know I'm not asexual. ;)

You want a job with that?

For all of my friends who have wondered how long I could annoy them by saying I'm getting a job and not getting one, the end is in sight. Actually you have already hit the brick wall because today was my first day of getting paid for a job you clock in at. And just what glorious position of work does Emily have? I am a CASHIER GIRL. :) I'm actually really excited. I will be getting paid. On a regular basis. Real money. It won't be 100 bucks for 80 hours a week (*ahem Millbrook* though I love it). I will be working at the Cougar Express. It's this checkout place that people can by a drink or a bag of chips at. And because I'm working there I will see everyone on campus. I'll be the hottie in the hairnet.

I've decided that as much as Utah is ragged on, it's a pretty cool place. There is so much to do, and the people are awesome. It's great to play a flirt again. And, I love my roommates. I'll miss having my sister out here with me. She seems to fit in so well with my ward. Okay so I have so much to do today and yet I'm blogging. I think I'm in denial that summer is drawing to an end. I have a lot of mixed feelings about that. Namely, I can't be lazy.

Oh, and because I love them so much here's another list of why I'm really happy with the way my job is working out right now.

1. The hours. My schedule is insane. I really want to be an acting major so I didn't want something that would absorb all my time. Just a little supplementary job. Six hours plus all the subbing I can choose from is plenty for me.
2. I can take all the classes I planned on taking.
3. I can still go to Devotional.
4. I can audit Norwegian. ;)
5. I will be paid a decent amount.
6. I won't be around food every day. Only the days I'm subbing so I won't smell like hamburgers. Not that there's anything wrong with hamburgers; I just don't think it'll will be Elizabeth Taylor's next perfume line.

Why procrastination sucks

So I have these friends who have successfully gotten away with procrastination for... well, a long time now; and, I don't know I thought maybe just maybe I would try it. I did this for a number of reasons. One becuase of what I was delaying. I fly out from PA to Mormonville tomorrow. No, today! (As it's 12:30 at night and my sister and I fly out of Baltimore at 6 pm.) And, packing always seems so final. Two maybe everything would magically arrange itself in my suitcase at the last minute and I wouldn't have to face the fact that I won't see some of the most amazing people in the world for another four and a half months. I think I'm beginning to see what I'm really blogging about. It's not procrastination. Even though I discovered that it definitely doesn't work for me. It's leaving all of this behind. Sappy, sappy, Emily. Good grief.

On some positive notes. I came back from the shore a darker shade of fair. This can only be determined by putting my arm next to my stomach. Yeah, the whole two-piece scandal fell through. I really have no guts. Another is the memories I have. My mom being "attacked" by a wave and jumping into my beach chair for protection. This attempt to save herself not only failed miserably but it resulted in her getting a huge bruise on her leg and the two of us toppled in a heap on the beach. We were covered in sand and let's say indecently readjusted in our swimwear. Of course it's much funnier to hear my mom tell the story. She is a character. I'll miss that. And, I'm really happy I can say that I'll miss that. Another great memory of the beach trip is watching my supposedly frugal brother (ha) waste all of his money on one of those vending machine claw things. He did get a dollar bill out of it. (After spending five.) And he was going to take the dollar back home and wave it in our faces to prove that the game could be beat, but then the kid that went next to him put in a quarter and on his first try got five bucks out of the machine. My brother never came back with the dollar. Or anything else for that matter. The dweeb. Boy I love him. :)

So I think I'm getting sentimental again and normally I could care less if I put anyone through the cheesy good stuff, but I'm feeling exceptionally raw tonight. Too much going on that I've had to leave unsaid for tonight. Too much to think about. And, too mono-annoyed of a body to stay awake any longer for all of this. You know I love ya.