tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86528024737276823972024-02-06T23:33:14.772-07:00...And She Was Not The Same After ThatJanicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123237896074253084noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8652802473727682397.post-76604077237910646632009-03-05T15:54:00.006-07:002009-03-05T16:01:53.761-07:00Salt Lake Walking Tour, Courtesy of the Postal Service (Part Deux)<div style="text-align: center;">Here are some additional messages left on our city streets. It sure makes walking a hell of a lot more fun!<br /><br />Ps. I included the words below the pic if they were hard to decipher.<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCD5B2T1c7swzLCuANUHQ3BPe9_cYQ-WQu_m64O9JwGCvpaj3PX22_JUOoHQ2y3ih2MNJzqENL9bpmS98GGxL9X8qB8Eo6KcFEJIy8v2aFfx6kjy8RO4fqb-WFJN88L0798C5ijtKExMs/s1600-h/blog+2"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCD5B2T1c7swzLCuANUHQ3BPe9_cYQ-WQu_m64O9JwGCvpaj3PX22_JUOoHQ2y3ih2MNJzqENL9bpmS98GGxL9X8qB8Eo6KcFEJIy8v2aFfx6kjy8RO4fqb-WFJN88L0798C5ijtKExMs/s320/blog+2" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309841283971556162" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">"We'll build castles in the sky out of pieces of this hell on earth."<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfUkGTAG2oRSkEPcrEDhQ-3AtPl90iZc0CMgxbjkqv45pR48P7lQqXBZaQxfQDN1ICzxgsIIlWPdhgWxQh32XMtKyVoJNiNA_rZnW2y2Mx9hWN-wUh0Ni1Eqvu6pFMGT8CcAkXbiYgcvQ/s1600-h/blog+3"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfUkGTAG2oRSkEPcrEDhQ-3AtPl90iZc0CMgxbjkqv45pR48P7lQqXBZaQxfQDN1ICzxgsIIlWPdhgWxQh32XMtKyVoJNiNA_rZnW2y2Mx9hWN-wUh0Ni1Eqvu6pFMGT8CcAkXbiYgcvQ/s320/blog+3" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309841275622837826" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhebiSZQwS1q_WEDcfu_VlU6qpKgokzQw54SP1CPdHD6Po33Rb3B7TsfSjtqmMR7B0WIDpM1hncECsy-_V_KFT124MJrU8U2COr-TD57_ZnEQs_Spse9cjX64pGUhBNOn_JC4E8vQn0HcQ/s1600-h/blog+4"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhebiSZQwS1q_WEDcfu_VlU6qpKgokzQw54SP1CPdHD6Po33Rb3B7TsfSjtqmMR7B0WIDpM1hncECsy-_V_KFT124MJrU8U2COr-TD57_ZnEQs_Spse9cjX64pGUhBNOn_JC4E8vQn0HcQ/s320/blog+4" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309841268696369586" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB9Gy1vNWtWiWnrKabd_qCdO1ht_NrzyiUT6qB5EY-u2mSZe5i1LBV3ARK4dsxkw6-B_55CdhhR5wSdLptgTsCCV42ulEiP0ICVKanciJi4boSTRQNnZILHJwEZidCTRsQ0VaNFGv2-AA/s1600-h/blog+5"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB9Gy1vNWtWiWnrKabd_qCdO1ht_NrzyiUT6qB5EY-u2mSZe5i1LBV3ARK4dsxkw6-B_55CdhhR5wSdLptgTsCCV42ulEiP0ICVKanciJi4boSTRQNnZILHJwEZidCTRsQ0VaNFGv2-AA/s320/blog+5" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309841260189662162" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">"So far so good, so far so good, so far so good. It's not how you fall that matters. It's how you hit the ground."<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqg1KUpuBp5fAzjVhGz0XAWhOX_JP2lwvovjgBCGX2AqtJYwVu92ZKQClHvFbi8LSBq4gALaug8cgSYJ9_Zxol9dmQ_iq05UB3Pfs612n7sJudYKR_tSHOJDSVlQClcywLF06ZW4gJLDQ/s1600-h/blog+1"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqg1KUpuBp5fAzjVhGz0XAWhOX_JP2lwvovjgBCGX2AqtJYwVu92ZKQClHvFbi8LSBq4gALaug8cgSYJ9_Zxol9dmQ_iq05UB3Pfs612n7sJudYKR_tSHOJDSVlQClcywLF06ZW4gJLDQ/s320/blog+1" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309841253690658866" border="0" /></a>"The Police are hella sketch."<br /></div>Janicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123237896074253084noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8652802473727682397.post-60809082182628042092009-03-02T11:13:00.004-07:002009-03-02T11:21:22.800-07:00Salt Lake Walking Tour, Courtesy of the Postal ServiceAs of late I have been intrigued by the various graffiti gracing my local streets. This installation of my Salt Lake Walking Tour focuses on the Priority Mail address stickers. Do you think the US Postal Service would continue giving these out for free if they knew that they were aiding a public art project? Probably not. But thanks anyway, Postal Service!<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRAY12eol7K3TN7ty0QVlopo7Z_z_fEOkGtZZCUEnOvQ72VWLAISKntLHVuC092UuJUUoHi-9VwP6x-DtHS1QfL_BTMt6y-oF_9TPx_g5obqGP8AR7SRtHu8s34XaliM_zsSjyjSSzo8s/s1600-h/blog+2"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRAY12eol7K3TN7ty0QVlopo7Z_z_fEOkGtZZCUEnOvQ72VWLAISKntLHVuC092UuJUUoHi-9VwP6x-DtHS1QfL_BTMt6y-oF_9TPx_g5obqGP8AR7SRtHu8s34XaliM_zsSjyjSSzo8s/s320/blog+2" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308656893988369490" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjNs7y0D1howmyTdpL2riEo6O0RaGQ_sx23UnkrfJkLu_hFuXVEm8ictJvS4-7A921u3wvyf2BDq_htwjyJYaBwRLG8i9H17YaKJ-ttFFhR73dVq79GTdt-8roe7j-m0LKv_CEtz9r02g/s1600-h/blog+3"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjNs7y0D1howmyTdpL2riEo6O0RaGQ_sx23UnkrfJkLu_hFuXVEm8ictJvS4-7A921u3wvyf2BDq_htwjyJYaBwRLG8i9H17YaKJ-ttFFhR73dVq79GTdt-8roe7j-m0LKv_CEtz9r02g/s320/blog+3" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308656890847359106" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5svueTbi0cjuIanzYtuRF6WrMZgVDZlti5Vn9mU3R1Jqsh9Sp_FzTkPceUMnaK1Zz9wxt7UK1AT_UNck3ZBlAVFeWhTeZX5EXH1FAAnxZtykQIQUb0zHoBzY-POBbp15gJcmHtxR8M7Q/s1600-h/blog+4"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5svueTbi0cjuIanzYtuRF6WrMZgVDZlti5Vn9mU3R1Jqsh9Sp_FzTkPceUMnaK1Zz9wxt7UK1AT_UNck3ZBlAVFeWhTeZX5EXH1FAAnxZtykQIQUb0zHoBzY-POBbp15gJcmHtxR8M7Q/s320/blog+4" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308656885193588562" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0mgTA3jZLSC6WZshkSCCbLnStYSGkVxExozCE51-oUwRLGD2gKeQlP1u9GH1-gVS4bAd-0zys5jsZWayYHTECzIJWvnmFkN4cCO61H-GswT3oWUyG5XtPD-v1jAyJDTxLVyk0tC_vC3E/s1600-h/blog+5"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0mgTA3jZLSC6WZshkSCCbLnStYSGkVxExozCE51-oUwRLGD2gKeQlP1u9GH1-gVS4bAd-0zys5jsZWayYHTECzIJWvnmFkN4cCO61H-GswT3oWUyG5XtPD-v1jAyJDTxLVyk0tC_vC3E/s320/blog+5" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308656882198947282" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOu8upobgsdp-jMxBQ8LzEXW_-IYUOhIDDdcYEKr-Cpw_JwEbmJV9pPwZHAiNcztL8UD7s2gd4RuJelBdjaYqin2wLDunkuBi8UVUf1wK7dFD0nsez2H4US3lBab4pkF9vjTK1w7NciW8/s1600-h/blog+6"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOu8upobgsdp-jMxBQ8LzEXW_-IYUOhIDDdcYEKr-Cpw_JwEbmJV9pPwZHAiNcztL8UD7s2gd4RuJelBdjaYqin2wLDunkuBi8UVUf1wK7dFD0nsez2H4US3lBab4pkF9vjTK1w7NciW8/s320/blog+6" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308656868804324914" border="0" /></a>Janicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123237896074253084noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8652802473727682397.post-52898245386442024252008-11-10T09:50:00.002-07:002008-11-10T09:51:33.210-07:00Death of FeminismThis website is proof that feminism didn't spread everywhere after all, or at least not the East Coast.<br /><br />Check it out: <a href="http://westpointgirlfriends.org/">westpointgirlfriends.org</a>Janicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123237896074253084noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8652802473727682397.post-38252898270857809982008-10-29T11:58:00.002-06:002008-10-29T12:03:43.286-06:00NeckingAn old lady was complaining to me as she left the exhibit yesterday (a Tuesday, when school groups come), "I couldn't see anything. It was all those darn kids taking notes, blocking my view. And when they weren't taking notes, they were necking--if that's what you would even call it now. Taking notes and necking!" And then she walked off in a huff!Janicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123237896074253084noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8652802473727682397.post-66600548981090451532008-10-28T09:38:00.003-06:002008-10-28T09:44:01.565-06:00Fairy TalesI finally went to the orthodontist yesterday. This was a big leap for me since I haven't gone in so long. I was nervous about going and hearing their lecture. When I got there, all the dental assistants were dressed up like Tooth Faries, including pink sparkly tutus and wands with cartoon teeth on them. The orthodontist was in a white tux with fairy wings, masquerading as the Fairy King--even though I'm pretty sure he is straight. Their costumes were terrifying to me. Here I am, at an appointment to ensure straighter teeth, while all of the dental assistants are dancing around as fairies hoping for my teeth to fall out.<br /><br />I was scared. But maybe I would be compensated with money in the end?Janicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123237896074253084noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8652802473727682397.post-27120193346738019322008-10-27T13:46:00.002-06:002008-10-27T13:48:59.484-06:00Highlight of Last WeekI was walking past the Salt Lake County Department of Health building on the way home. Two hipster kids walked out, hand in hand, with medical papers in their free hands. They then proceeded to jump up and down, voicing a brief joyous call about their lack of STD's. And then they ran across the street.Janicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123237896074253084noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8652802473727682397.post-8149695327888586262008-10-27T13:37:00.002-06:002008-10-27T13:46:30.774-06:00If You Want to Destroy My LetterIf you know me, you know that I will always choose form over function. Uniqueness always trumps utility.<br /><br />A few months ago, I bought cutsey envelopes at WalMart with bright colored stripes on them. I failed to notice, however, that there was no glue on them. Everytime I write a letter, I just apply handy-dandy Elmer's glue to it and let it dry. No biggie.<br /><br />After writing to two missionaries and an old friend today, I ran downstairs to our bathroom to blow them dry. It wasn't until I was hovering over three glue-moistened envelopes with a blow-dryer that I realized this behavior was somewhat ridiculous.<br /><br />Today's postal hoverings made me think about converting to the lame standard envelopes.Janicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123237896074253084noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8652802473727682397.post-36689828721438490392008-10-22T09:17:00.003-06:002008-10-22T09:57:36.765-06:00Bored GamesWhile working at The Leonardo, currently host to the Salt Lake Body Worlds Exhibit, I have a lot of time on my hands to surf the waves of the internet. But those internet seas seem to be somewhat limited when it comes to what can catch (and maintain) my interest. Below is a list of sites I check everytime I'm at work. (This goes beyond just the Facebook/Gmail sites.)<br /><br /><strong>Group Hug--introduced to me by the lovely Elspeth</strong><br /><a href="http://grouphug.us/">http://grouphug.us/</a><br /><br /><strong>Overheard in New York--introduced to me by my old supervisor, Aaron</strong><br /><a href="http://www.overheardinnewyork.com/">http://www.overheardinnewyork.com/</a><br /><br /><strong>And the other "Overheard" websites, although the classic NY is still the best:</strong><br />Overheard Everywhere-- <a href="http://www.overheardeverywhere.com/">http://www.overheardeverywhere.com/</a><br />Overheard in the Office-- <a href="http://www.overheardintheoffice.com/">http://www.overheardintheoffice.com/</a><br />Overheard at the Beach-- <a href="http://www.overheardatthebeach.com/">http://www.overheardatthebeach.com/</a><br />Celebrity Wit-- <a href="http://www.celebritywit.com/">http://www.celebritywit.com/</a><br /><br /><strong>Failblog, introduced to me by Kendall</strong><br /><a href="http://failblog.org/">http://failblog.org/</a><br /><br /><strong>And in the Failblog family:</strong><br />Rofl Razzi (making fun of celebrity)-- <a href="http://roflrazzi.com/">http://roflrazzi.com/</a><br />Totally Looks Like-- <a href="http://totallylookslike.com/">http://totallylookslike.com/</a><br />Pundit Kitchen-- <a href="http://punditkitchen.com/">http://punditkitchen.com/</a><br />Graph Jam-- <a href="http://graphjam.com/">http://graphjam.com/</a><br />Engrish (lovely bad English)-- <a href="http://engrishfunny.com/">http://engrishfunny.com/</a><br /><br /><strong>For the best source of news, The Onion, courtesty of my brother.</strong><br /><a href="http://www.theonion.com/">http://www.theonion.com</a><br />(The videos and horoscopes are my personal favorite!)<br /><br /><strong>Craigslist--because if you're a hippie, you've been on this website.</strong><br /><a href="http://www.craigslist.org/">http://www.craigslist.org</a><br />(Best of Craigslist and Missed Connections are my favorite.)<br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>Weekly, I check PostSecret--they're updated on Sundays.</strong><br /><a href="http://postsecret.blogspot.com/">http://postsecret.blogspot.com</a><br /><br />And yet, with all thse websites, I get bored. Any suggestions?Janicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123237896074253084noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8652802473727682397.post-18912678302553070872008-10-21T12:20:00.002-06:002008-10-21T12:24:04.282-06:00Sleepless NightsI haven't had an almost completely sleepless night in a long time (year-ish), even after going off of sleeping pills.<br /><br />And then-BAM!<br /><br />My old habit picked up again last night--I usually use those few minutes (or hours) before I fall into sleep to worry about everything in my life. And this worry-wortness abated for a year--until last night. I just couldn't get my mind off the fact that my life isn't worthwhile at all right now. I feel compelled to create an opus, but have nothing in mind. And I have so much time on my hands and I do nothing with it.<br /><br />I feel blah. And tired.Janicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123237896074253084noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8652802473727682397.post-66562013450480539092008-10-18T10:58:00.000-06:002008-10-18T10:59:22.164-06:00My Best Advice"You should forgive everyone...even if they are sons of bitches."Janicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123237896074253084noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8652802473727682397.post-63824758542681389962008-10-17T16:11:00.000-06:002008-10-17T17:36:16.338-06:00A Brief History of Last Weekend, Abridged<div align="center"><strong>Chapter 1: Flash-Ahh</strong></div><br />Friday afternoon on TRAX, some 25 year-old (ish) creepy looking guy sits next to me. I don't think much of it and I was just texting anyway. And then--FLASH! Literally. He shows me his yo-hoo, for lack of a more family friendly term. Noticing it, I further dedicated myself to texting and my iPod. In response, he starts waving it like a conductor's wand--desperately trying anything for me to notice, to no avail. I am not one to make a scene. However, because of his little, or in all honesty, <em>big</em> distraction, I got off at the wrong stop and had to walk back.<br /><br />People such as Flasher Guy inspire me. Who gets up in the morning and says, "I <strong>am</strong> going to flash a girl today. Yeah!" Such conviction. Don't you wish that everyone was a little more like this?<br /><br /><div align="center">.......</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong>Chapter 2: Spiderwoman</strong></div><br />After walking home from work, I realized that my front door was locked. Not having a key, I scream profanities while beating the door with my fists. I didn't even have a cell phone to call my roommates & I had an appointment in an hour. F!<br /><br />I spent a few minutes surveying the house. While I have been skilled at breaking into my own apartments in the past, a second-story townhome apartment is a different feat entirely. The only way in was through our kitchen window. Suck. I got our neighbors stool and used it to jump onto the 2 by 4 on our fence. Seeing the deep slant of our roof and taking into account my fear of heights, I clumsily got off the fence.<br /><br />Round 2. I surveyed our house again, but the kitchen window again was the only option. I took the stolen stool, boosted my shaky little self onto the 2 by 4, and launched myself onto the inclined roof. Starting to slide, I grappled for anything at all. I ended up with a rusty nail, which was starting to come out. It was enough! I ran up to the windodw & with shaky arms held the window up while I climbed inside. Whew. Maybe the scariest thing of my life as of yet.<br /><br /><div align="center">.......</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong>Chapter 3: Silence is Golden</strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left">I don't have a car, bike, computer, dresser, or the like. I limit my large purchases. The one luxury I allow myself is a massage once a month. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">I hurry into Massage Envy, post-break in, and I am confronted with Vern, a therapist the age of my dad. By no means am I agist, but I like deep massages and somtimes the oldies just don't do it well. Giving him the benifit of my doubt of his strength, I get my little naked body on the toasty bed.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">Vern gives me about 15 minutes of blissful silence. Then, as the fatherly figure, decides to lecture. He explained how I shouldn't get blisters when I hike... (because I love them so much?!) and then sees my yellow wristband from the Weezer concert. Pa tells me that I should stop going to such events because people die. My appointment was over and he hadn't even started on my arms or legs. I left disappointed. Vern taught me the most important lesson of all--no grown person likes hearing lectures about retarded subjects. Otherwise, we would all live with our parents.</div>Janicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123237896074253084noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8652802473727682397.post-61631185200192047842008-10-09T09:19:00.001-06:002008-10-09T09:29:45.187-06:00Deaf by Choice<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVHU02FHe0WnxweHZIZwtIqIuDW6oIlQqYqteh-c_4EIqr0ZN_5L5AN1cZLLb3Y9Pj00BoNGuxPGKeXVcM3dXRSfr5bNz7JYk3kx6p08JBwiPCcuccD1VRj78C5ZuJQHsapuZY84uUrII/s1600-h/photo.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255175209042942322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVHU02FHe0WnxweHZIZwtIqIuDW6oIlQqYqteh-c_4EIqr0ZN_5L5AN1cZLLb3Y9Pj00BoNGuxPGKeXVcM3dXRSfr5bNz7JYk3kx6p08JBwiPCcuccD1VRj78C5ZuJQHsapuZY84uUrII/s320/photo.jpg" border="0" /></a>Me. At Weezer. On Tuesday. Getting my eardrums blasted out. The band's up there somewhere, although it's hard to see through the bright lights.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwuCUMFtJ_CB2ahaL9E_tzkIkY8d9FMoBBjLFmXH917YtmE_i8COlYksCMbO70CX5hEiHGrOp3WHLXcvhznh9XAWXrhH1lEMm6U5n0Ezk7QeiqgdJCxN2nFoKyddb28kL4TmMGTF3lRmM/s1600-h/photo2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255175114780756482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwuCUMFtJ_CB2ahaL9E_tzkIkY8d9FMoBBjLFmXH917YtmE_i8COlYksCMbO70CX5hEiHGrOp3WHLXcvhznh9XAWXrhH1lEMm6U5n0Ezk7QeiqgdJCxN2nFoKyddb28kL4TmMGTF3lRmM/s320/photo2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Fact #1: Weezer is crazy. (i.e.: Rivers performed the first few songs with a mask on his head.)</div><div>Fact #2: Their craziness makes them better.</div><div>The best part of the concert was when they had a 30 local musicians onstage, ranging from a guitar to a euphonium, for "Island in the Sun" and "Beverly Hills."</div><div> </div><div>The crowd was pretty interesting to watch too--just about everyone sang along and danced to all the classics--"Undone", "Jamie", "My Name is Jonas"--but when they sang their new songs from the red album, all faces went blank. The singing stopped and the moshing did too. Pretty funny.</div><div> </div><div>And it was worth choosing to be deaf.</div>Janicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123237896074253084noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8652802473727682397.post-656028857992532062008-10-06T11:33:00.000-06:002008-10-06T11:53:37.812-06:00As Sisters in ZionWhile recently working at the corporate headquarters of DownEast Basics, I learned much more about the people of the LDS faith than I could have ever wanted to know. As all who have worked in customer service know, people are bitches. Even cute Mormon moms. And who ever thought people would get their panties (well, kind of) in a bunch over modest clothing?<br /><br />Overly Modest Woman calls one day and complains--for a half hour--about how our uber modest clothing is too tight, too low, too suggestive. Too bad they weren't video phones--I would love to see that burlap bag that she must be wearing around.<br /><br />Devil Woman calls one day to tell me how our clothes are of the devil, since she too believes that our clothing is immodest. Yes, my boss is Satan. You guessed right!<br /><br />Dragon Lady calls in and right off the bat bombards me with every cuss word in the English language. Apparently the F-word was her favorite. After listening to her bitch me out for circa 10 minutes, she<em> finally</em> informed of her complaint--our gift cards. Even at that point, she was so difficult, I passed her off onto my supervisor, who in turn, got her turn of an earful.<br /><br />Polygamy-o-phobia lady calls and tells me that our company is slowly leading young Mormon girls to support a life of polygamy. "I know," POP Lady says,"that you are a ploygamist. And so are your company's owners." Even after assuring her I wasn't, she said that I too was brainwashed. Because somehow our return policy is related to brainwashing and polygamy.<br /><br />What did I learn from these Relief Society Sisters? Well, Overly Modest Woman, Devil Woman, Dragon Lady, and POP Lady all taught me that Mormon housewives have too much time on their hands. Please, girls, get a better hobby.Janicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123237896074253084noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8652802473727682397.post-89303084519965084912008-10-06T11:03:00.000-06:002008-10-17T20:20:03.673-06:00Title and Registration1. There was an old man on TRAX who has crazy gray hair and a really ecclectic outfit. When heading to work on a Friday night, he asked me, "What's a young thing like you doing on a Friday night--going out to party like a rockstar?!" Uhh.... I saw him the next week, much to my dismay, and he said, "I could recognize your beautiful face and those cute glasses anywhere!"<br /><br />2. When walking home, a bum shouted across the street at me, "I like your glasses!"<br /><br />3. When waiting to take TRAX home from a theatre performance downtown, a drunken Native American man approached me. He kept referring to me as a man, even though I was wearing a pink shirt, pearls, and a yellow cardigan! Then he came really close to my face (about 3" away)and kept staring at me, asking me to look all the different directions. Finally, drunken man said, "I never knew how pretty you are. You look like a doe." After about 5 minutes of him telling me I looked beautiful, he asked, "Do you go to church? I want to come to church with you so you can teach me some lessons." (Wow--sexual invitation anyone?) Finally, drunken man started bargaining with me to let him borrow my cell phone. And then I just ended up walking home...<br /><br />4. Last year, I couldn't seem to escape the grasps of a homeless man named Potter, or Potsie for short. No matter where I travelled throughout the Salt Lake or Utah Valleys--he was there. You may have seen him--he has a walker and a bright yellow jacket. Finally one day, I decided to eavesdrop on his conversation. And maybe I walked away with more than I bargained for. He started telling the man next to me all about the prostitute that he regularly visited. Vehemently he recalled walking in on the prostitute while she was in bed with her girlfriend. Of course, he left upset and refused to visit his whore again.<br /><br />5. Coming home from the Gateway, a woman in a "Monsters, Inc." shirt got on TRAX and started making fun of these two cute Mormon housewives. She started singing "As Sisters in Zion" really creepily and off key. Then she started telling all the females to leave the LDS Church because we were going to be sucked into a life of polygamy. And yadayada, she kept screaming insults at all the LDS TRAX riders. People tried to eek out defenses, but it just fueled her. Even a skater kid who left the LDS church tried to no avail. Eventually, my roommate and I just got off TRAX and walked the rest of the way.<br /><br />6. One night while eating at Beto's at 2am, a drunk man came up to my friends and I, spilling horchata on us and almost trying to force it down my throat. Sick. Reeking of cheep booze, he kept asking, "So are you like Mormon, or some shit like that?" Whatever we said, that was his response. He left for a bit and then came back and handed me a wet napkin with incoherent scribblings on it. Horchata man said that his writings had something about peace on it. Because peace totally implies harrassing unsuspecting Beto's customers.<br /><br />What does this mean? I need to get a car and get ugly glasses, just to ensure my sanity.Janicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123237896074253084noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8652802473727682397.post-5903502370412468302008-06-25T17:43:00.001-06:002008-11-25T11:26:01.378-07:0010 Things You May Have Not Known About Me<span style="font-size:130%;">1. I don't have a driver's license.</span><br /><br />I know that it's lame, and I guess that maybe I haven't reached my right of passage, but to be honest, I don't actually care. I spent all my time when I was younger studying to get ahead rather than learning to drive. And I think that any monkey can pass the written test, so why do I have to pay good money to "study" for it? Also, I like that I get exercise and that I'm helping the environment. Go public transportation!<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">2. My room at home has Barbie pink walls.</span><br /><p>No joke, guys. Bright pink walls! It also has tons of Young Women's posters, pictures of temples, and awards everywhere. If you know me know, you should find this pretty funny.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">3. I am addicted to Diet Coke.</span><br /><br />Don't know why, but it's like my life blood. Sad thing is...I didn't even hardly drink soda until I reached my addiction!<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">4. I love Mondrian.</span><br /><br />I have a dress with his pattern. And I painted a bookshelf like one of his paintings. I just can't get over the simplicity and colors. I heart modernism.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">5. I watch a ton of movies.</span><br /><br />The usual is about 5 a week. Sometimes more. Thank goodness for my friend, Netflix, and those red lil' envelopes. But no chickflicks, please.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">6. My greatest source of entertainment is riding Trax.</span><br /><br />I love all the weird people I overhear! From a man giving advice to his teenage son on how to be a drug-dealer to a homeless man talking about prostitution, life can't get much better than this, just saying.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">7. I am a night person.</span><br /><br />And a heavy sleeper. My newest job is kicking my trash, however, and I've becoming a Granny and going to bed early. This is news to me after 20 years of life.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">8. I wish I were more adventerous.</span><br /><br />This summer I've gone on a 8 1/2 hour hike and gone wakeboarding. I've even perfected my longboarding skills. And yet I'm terrified of hurting myself, I hate heights, and I get hurt really, really easily. And don't worry...I cried twice on that long hike.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">9. I was Prom Queen.</span><br /><br />Okay, totally not something I like to brag about. In fact, I hate it. But I think it's interesting, mostly because it's so out of character for myself. Oh, childish high school trivialities.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">10. One of my favorite activities is reading the dictionary.</span><br /><br />Always has been. I know, weird, but who knew that Charlotte Russe--the clothing store--was named after a french dessert? I DID?! Only, of course, after I got a beloved dictionary two Christmases ago.</p>Janicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123237896074253084noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8652802473727682397.post-6658153391255643392007-11-18T12:38:00.000-07:002007-11-18T12:53:53.128-07:00Tongue Loosed?Nope. My tongue can never actually voice what I want to say. And when I don't want it to say anything...<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">WORD VOMIT</span>! All over everything. And then <span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-style: italic;">I say embarrassing things</span> to people, including boys that I like. In all almost 20 years of my life, my tongue has never done me any service when it comes to conversation.<br /><br />Because I am cognizant that <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 102);">my tongue is handicapped</span>, I just <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">run from situations</span> where I might not be able to voice what I want to say. Yup. That can mean <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 153, 255);">avoiding people</span> for years! By the way, this is not a tactic that I recommend. I actually think part of that is being too nice. Too nice? Yup. Weird. But true. It's like I dance around most people's feelings, but by doing that I just end up hurting them more in the end.<br /><br />For example, I've always been nervous about telling my family about who I'm dating. Always. For no good reason, either. I think I rationalize it to myself, by saying that I'm trying to protect my family in case they don't like them or <span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">some-other "I don't want to hurt their feelings" excuse</span>...anyway...I had brought a boy over to meet my sister, but never officially announced that we were dating. On a roadtrip where he, my sister, and a friend dropped me off for a job, he told my sister that we were dating! Beyond the fact that it was an obvious breach of trust, it hurt my sister more that I didn't tell her. So by not telling her and trying to save her feelings really ended up hurting her more. Ugh! I guess in the long run, it wasn't so bad. My sister and I are much closer now and I can cry to her about stupid boys! My point is...holding back the full truth and <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 204, 102);">sparing people's feelings=stupid idea</span>. It does not work.<br /><br /><br />I think the time my tongue is the most loose is when I'm <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">gossiping</span>. It's a <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 255, 255);">difficult vice</span> not to indulge in, especially as a girl. In my apartment, we've made many recent efforts to make our home a brighter space. We even bought full-spectrum light to make it literally brighter. And yet I can't help but feel that if we just kept our tongues in line, we would be much happier. But I guess it's just a <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 255, 153);">side-effect of living with girls</span>.Janicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123237896074253084noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8652802473727682397.post-77802918780208662332007-11-17T00:56:00.000-07:002007-11-17T01:06:48.241-07:00Prayers and AnswersRandom of randoms.<br /><br />Today was quite possibly the most random day of my life. Walking through Macy's with a can of purple paint. Going on a bus with my roommate and her expired transfer with a table, pillows, clothes, light bulbs, fake flowers, shoes, and just about any other random thing you could hold in your hands...including a table. White trash for certain.<br /><br />I also saw an old friend today. One that lives in LA and I haven't seen for awhile. It was odd. And we stood making awkward conversation.<br /><br />"Sometimes when you dream, your dreams come true, And suddenly a day can be so amazing."<br /><br />Today was opening night for <span style="font-style: italic;">Little Women</span>. If you know me, you may also know that I'm a little crazy...literally. I've seen counselors for awhile. One thing I could never overcome is the hybridity of religion and art in my life. I have a strong testimony of the LDS religion, but my artsy and creative side wants me to constantly rebel and do things that maybe I shouldn't. I've felt that these two parts of my personality can never find a meeting ground. But today they did. As I was calling the hundreds of cues in this pretty intense show, I realized that this experience was the answer to my question many months ago. It wasn't really a prayer, but I did ask it in my heart. For the last few months, I've been working tirelessly on this show. I've had the chance to work with a great director. And she is the answer to my prayers. Through this experience, she taught me that art and religion do go together. They fit. Somehow. It's still a question that I will ponder over for years to come, but at least Laurie has given me some sort of path to follow in that regards. I can make those two worlds blend. And the more I do art, the more I feel connected to Heavenly Father. Maybe Julia Cameron is right after all. It's just that something inside me burns when I'm calling cues and leading talk-back sessions. It's my heart telling me that I love what I'm doing.Janicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123237896074253084noreply@blogger.com1