T.M.I (Totally Magical Invitation... or Too Much Information. Maybe both...)

I had an incredible weekend.  According to Facebook, my weekend did not exist, because all of the super exciting and wonderful photos of said weekend WILL NOT appear on my Facebook page.  But, according to my sunburnt back, sore legs, sand-covered bag, freckled face, and weird rash, it happened. And yes, I did just admit to the public that I have a weird rash on my stomach.  But don’t worry, it’s just an allergic reaction that us people with sensitive skin get when swimming in fresh water that apparently have snails and birds.  I won’t get into details…. Let’s just say that it’s not contagious, it will go away in 3 to 5 days, and I will never swim in the shallow water of Sand Hollow Reservoir again.  Too much information? Maybe.

Anyway, this weekend was amazing.  My friend invited me a few days before the trip – but all he said was “jet skiing and cliff jumping in St. George. You in?” – and without knowing any other details or people going, I showed up at his house at 5 pm on Friday afternoon with a swimsuit, towel, and more excitement than I’ve had all semester.  Something about the words “vacation,” “St. George,” “sun,” “swimming,” and “road trip” make waiting very difficult.  In fact, I had to finish my independent study course AND take the final before leaving on Friday—I ended up going over to take the test at noon and blowing off any previously planned studying.  Who studies when you are waiting to drive to paradise?  Not me.  Luckily, Independent Study is the easiest thing on the planet. Seriously.  If I had known this fact before my last semester of college I might have done a large majority of my classwork online… oh well.

So we left for St. George at 5:30.  Yes, I went on vacation with 20 strangers.  It was the best decision I’ve made in a long time.   Every single one of those “strangers” turned out to be awesome = instant friends.  We stayed at one of the guys’ super sweet vacation home—he was so generous to let all of us crash there for the weekend.  Our vacation consisted of tennis, running, biking, eating, talking, laughing hysterically until 3 am, watching movies, ping pong, driving by the lovely temple, ice cream outings, and a full day spent at Sand Hollow Reservoir, complete with racing jet skis at 60 mph. 

So beautiful.

Look at that lovely orange sand... it was almost the same exact color as my hair. I was tempted to get wet and then roll around in it... but large prickers and bird poop stopped me from transforming myself into one giant orange person. darn.

Cousin love. That sunscreen "W" might be the only bit of sunscreen used by anyone but me during the duration of the trip, evidenced by the painful moaning and three bottles of aloe used by the group later that night...

Famous.

Our favorite bathroom-stop on the way to St. George: Beaver, UT. Maybe some day I will live here.  Then I will find no shame in wearing that shirt or hat.

Fortunately, I took a few pics on my cell—you get the idea. It was gorgeous.   We spent almost six hours swimming, jet skiing, sunbathing, and hurling ourselves off of 30 foot cliffs.  I’m not really sure why I did the last one… all I know is that cliff-jumping might tie with shooting a gun as the scariest thing I’ve ever done.  And if you don’t think either of those things are scary, well, I guess I live a sheltered life. But weapons and heights scare me more than anything.  And asking boys on dates. I usually throw up afterwards (because I get so nervous… not because the idea of going on the subsequent date is so revolting… too much information again. Sorry.) Anyways, hurling yourself off a cliff into water filled with who-knows-what is scary.  But when all of the guys around you are doing triple back flip gainer/dives headfirst off the same cliff, you kind of feel the need to at least do a simple jump.  Even if that jump turns into a wimpy feet-first hold-your-nose flailing arms scream-the-whole-way-down jump. All that mattered to me was doing it. And, after 15 minutes of walking to the edge, looking down, feeling faint, gasping for air, screaming “ohh no I can’t do it”, walking back to safety, screaming “man up and just do it”, walking back to the edge, and repeating, I finally just did it. I jumped. And I lived. Success.

See that person flying gracefully through the air? Let's just say that's not what I looked like.

See that cluster of people at the highest point? That's where I jumped. And yes, I did steal these pictures off of a google images search. thanks to:http://formans2009.blogspot.com/2010/08/sand-hollow-cliff-jumping

We had to be back in time for church at noon on Sunday, so our fun weekend was cut short.  But we definitely made the most of our limited time down in San Jorge—it didn’t hit me until Saturday night, as I sat outside the St. George Temple, that this was most likely my last time in St. George for a very, very long time.  It was hard to say goodbye—that city is filled with so many great memories with fun friends and family.  It all started in the fall of 2007, when the Gummow’s invited me to join their family for a Thanksgiving trip to St. George.  It continued with girl trips to relax and hike in Zion National Park; multiple races with Kels and Amy, the world’s best running partners; our heavenly half-marathon trip with team toast; pit stops on the way to Vegas and L.A.; and weekend getaways with good friends.   The St. George temple holds a dear place in my heart—whether making a visit with friends, family, or getting in some early morning temple time before a race, that temple is special.  Here come some of my favorite georgie memories...

Look at us as little 18 year-olds... time flies.

Angel's Landing= favorite hike. EVER.

Angel's again.

After our first half marathon. I miss us.

All freshman besties must buy matching dresses.

Second half-marathon. LOVE these girls.

 And now I’m back in provo, ready for more adventure (and for facebook to work so that I can actually prove to my family that I do fun things), and getting a little sad about moving in three weeks.  I never thought I would actually miss Utah… it seems I was mistaken.  I haven’t left yet but I’m already thinking of all of the people and places that I’m going to miss.

I’ll just have to make the most of my remaining time here. And if you have a fun vacation idea, I am currently taking suggestions.

PS My last post was about my baby sister... so I can't resist putting up this adorable clip of her. She is saying "please drink my hot kool-aid"... apparently it's a parody of some youtube skit. All i know is that she is super cute.

Baby sister. Minus the "baby" part.

My littlest baby sister is three years old.  She was born two days after I graduated from high school, and she will turn four the same week that I *technically* graduate from college.  Even though her birthday isn't for two more weeks, I had to share this darling picture of her.  Well, more like darling photo montage of her...

If you can't tell, she cuts her own hair.  What a talented child.

Mustache March. She wore that in hopes of BYU domination...

The child's best friends are ants. See that ant next to her face?  That's Annie. Annie the Ant. Sometimes we wonder about her...

Her "family."  She demanded "take a picture of me's family." Total resemblance.

No words. None.

But I saved the best photo for last.  My baby sister is very unique- she loves the following four things with all of her heart: Doggies, swimming, Michael Jackson, and college basketball. This is not a lie.  Last week, the BYU alumni magazine came in the mail- and before anyone else even saw it, she gasped, "is that JIMMER??"  and snatched the magazine.  I'm pretty sure she's been carrying it around ever since, even when practicing her MJ dance moves (she knows the entire Thriller dance. seriously. How is she so cool...)  I know half of the women on BYU campus are in love with that man, but she might be the only three-year-old that I know with a giant crush on him.  All I can say is that she's got good taste. In both men and music.

Love Stinks.

A few weeks ago, I went to "karaoke night" at Applebees.  Yes.  (Those of you who know me are thinking "oh my gosh. NO." because you know how horrible my voice is- but don't worry, I didn't sing)  Applebees is clearly the rockin' place to be at 11 pm on Tuesday nights in Provo/Orem. Who knew.  Interesting people from all over Utah Valley flock to this tiny stage and proceed to sing songs that should really not be performed in public EVER, but especially not when under the influence of various substances (my favorite performance, besides the one I am about to describe, was the group of drunken frat boys singing "Bohemian Rhapsody" in the key of B flat, sans shirts...or more..., while intermittently yelling "phi kappa phi for life bro").

Anyways, I really just went because it was my friend's birthday and I wanted to say hi to some friends- but before long, I was captivated by the painful and strangely entertaining musical performances- and one blew me away (literally. I was sitting two feet from the speakers and I could feel the sound waves coming from those things).  I am minding my own business (and trying really hard to appear cute and normal to the guy next to me, which is hard to do while yelling,) when a microphone is thrust into my ear.  I look up into the face of an old coworker. Awkward.  He then proceeded to sing (well, yell) "Love Stinks." Now, whenever I find myself failing in the "love department,"  I remember my wise drunk coworker - sometimes love stinks.

To demonstrate this sentiment, let me recount my most recent attempt at attracting a male.  I helped organize/run my friend's wedding reception last Saturday afternoon - it was a beautiful day and a gorgeous venue (pictures to come later).  I spent all morning and afternoon setting up and preparing for the reception, but luckily I got in a quick shower and clothing change, because one of the caterers turned out to be a cute young guy.  "Perfect" I thought.  I'm at a reception, he has no idea who I am, I have no idea who he is, we'll probably never see each other again, no ring- I'll just flirt it up.  This will be great, right?

Wrong.

After spending an hour finding excuses to talk to him, having him help me with stuff, borrowing his white sheet that he happened to have in his truck (don't ask), a friend of mine decided to take the initiative and, without my knowledge, pull the old fourth grade trick (where you have a friend go tell the friend of the sister of the friend's friend of the guy you like that you might think he's cute).  A few minutes later, my friend comes over to where I was serving food and said "uhh I have some bad news.  I told that guy that you thought he was cute.... turns out he's married.  With FOUR kids."

Well, I sure can pick them, huh.  Needless to say, the rest of the night was slightly awkward.  But I laughed it off, and to the married guy, I have only one thing to say: Get a wedding ring. They work wonders.

So that's my story.  Love stinks.  I mean, I'm sure it's great... for those who actually succeed at finding cute, nice, normal, non-drunken, SINGLE men.  But I'm sure they're out there somewhere...

And in case you would like to hear what my friend at the bar sounded like, here you go.  He might have even done a better job than Adam Sandler...

http://youtu.be/1n8p5Mihi4w

Promises.

One of my family's favorite movies is the timeless Christmas classic, Jingle All the Way... starring Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sinbad.  If you haven't seen it, please take two hours and enjoy this hilarious movie. Even if it's the middle of May.  You will not regret it.

Anyway,  this movie is full of great one-liners, and it's hard for me to choose a favorite, but I was recently reminded of something that the little 8 year old boy, Jamie, says. "Always keep your promises if you want to keep your friends."  He says it in this deep "turbo-man" voice and it's adorable. Unfortunately there is no trace of it on youtube- and when I googled it I got results like "President Clinton addresses Congress" and "Jesus Loves You"...

 But this post isn't about Christmas movies or Arnold or turbo-man - it's about promises.  Actually it's more about expectations.  Actually it's more just me venting about things not happening.

I was clearly not meant for the "limelight," as evidenced by recent events.  Or as evidenced by my entire life history.  For example, back in April, my friend Britt and I went to Salt Lake for General Conference.  Every time I go, I try to strategically place myself in front of the people with cameras, hoping to "accidentally" make it into the Ensign.  It never works.  However, this year THEY approached ME.  I posed in front of some beautiful snow covered bushes behind the temple as they shot some photos and had me sign a piece of paper waiving my life away.  I was pretty excited and have been anxiously awaiting this month's edition of the Ensign... until today.  Needless to say, I am NOT in the Ensign.  Whatever.  I'm sure they had a perfectly good reason for not using my picture.  They probably already had too many redheads in there... ha. NOT.

Lest you think I am being dramatic, here is example #2.  I was slightly bummed about not being in the church magazine, but I thought to myself "hey don't worry- you'll be in the newspaper tomorrow, remember??!!"  Yesterday, while walking on campus, I was stopped by a Daily Universe reporter and asked tons of questions about my "feelings and insights" on the death of Osama bin Laden.  I mean, I'm no expert, but I am a political science major and I did watch the news for like an hour on Sunday night, so I felt like I had something semi-worthwhile to say... Open up today's newspaper and BAM. Nothing.  Both articles about bin Laden quote all of the current Washington Seminar students.  Thanks a lot Obama- waiting until I leave DC to catch Osama.  Perfect.

And those are just the most recent occurances.  There was the time that I was asked to be a bookstore model and I had to go have a million pictures taken of me in some hideous BYU t-shirt while I did awkward things like "jumping into rain puddles" and "blowing air kisses" and holding a fake umbrella.  Do you know how hard it is to hold a fake umbrella and "jump" into a make-believe puddle while still smiling for a camera?  Obviously my discomfort and pain showed in the photo shoot because after TWO years of waiting to see my picture in the BYU bookstore advertisements, I have realized that this is just another dream of mine that has been crushed.

There was the hair model incident (some salon-owner asked me to be their model for the advertisements/sign for their salon. Got my #, made an appointment, gave me a haircut, promised me a free one, and then never called),  the failed C-SPAN coverage (one time, while interning in Congress, I decided it would be fun to be on TV. My coworker and I ran over to where they were filming Mitch McConnell and Harry Reid and stood right behind them.  Just as the camera turned and they started to film me, my coworker stepped right in front of me.  Thanks bud), and the fake MTV appearance (my high school principal took all of the seniors up to NYC to be on MTV's TRL with Avril Lavigne. My mom was so excited to see me on tv and even taped the episode.  I was pretty excited too... until we watched it and realized that I had faced the wrong way the whole time.  All you see are a few pathetic shots of the back of my head).

There you have it.  A lifetime of failed attempts to be famous.  So next time you think you see me on tv, don't get your hopes up.  It's probably not me.

And in an effort to make myself feel better, here is our group shot from DC.  I just love it.
I also somehow find a twisted sort of pride in the fact that President Samuelson is the focal point of the picture but somehow I managed to weasel my way to the center. HA.