why dating is hard.

The other week, when I went berry picking, I spent the evening bonding with a boy - T, for confidentiality's sake - and the evening ended with him getting my number. RIGHT I'm back in the game.  Or so I thought. I reveled in the fact that a boy had my number and was potentially going to use that number and take me out on dates and DATES ARE FUN.  And boy did T use that number.  

First he asked me to come over and "watch a movie or something" the night after said number-exchange.  I hate that. We literally do not know each other, and you expect me to sit on a couch right next to you and pretend like I'm enjoying it? I don't even know if I like you or not yet, and this situation is putting you dangerously close to cuddling. But even more awkward than cuddling is sitting the designated 6 inches that I put between us. 

Then he asked me on a real date. At which point I knew I didn't like him because of awkward hand caressing during our movie and kinda severe halitosis and talking way too long about hoping to get married but I owed him one night, right? And let me tell you.  I'm actually certain he read "How Not To Impress a Girl On A First Date."  Let me take you step by step.

::when he picked me up, he looked bored/tired/so uninterested in taking me out. like, what's the deal? should we both just admit we don't want to be on this date and call it a night? 

::he asked me where i wanted to eat.  that's just so wrong. 

::as i looked around the cafe rio vicinity as we stood in line, this was our conversation:

"oh just looking for hot guys?"

"HAHA no, just looking around."

"i bet you've dated a lot of boys, huh?"

"no,  i'd say a normal amount." (how do you even answer that questions??)

"well if you see anyone in here you want, let me know, k? i'll help you out."

help me what? kill myself? 

::his impressively long reasoning behind why pacific rim was a horrible movie because it led the general public to believe that nuclear bombs were the same thing as nuclear reactors and they absolutely  ARE NOT the same thing. ok? with lack of anything else to say after his detailed explanation, i said, "wow yeah i had no idea! obviously the directors didn't know either." his response? "well it would have been the writers that made that mistake, so." ah right. check please?

::he made fun of me for being homeschooled.  something about it "not being a proper education" and it leads to immature/socially unaware adults.

::hoping and praying for some semblance of normalcy would have been in vain at this point. it only went downhill. we drove back to our apartment complex and walked up to the back deck by his apartment to lean against the railing and...look at the mountains? the kids playing soccer? my hopes and dreams of finding someone fading away? regardless, as we were standing there, he farts. i mean it, he actually farts. yes, that happened , and i actually lived to tell.  i'm still trying to figure out what kind of award i deserve for going through such a traumatic experience - i'm thinking it should have the words "hero" and/or "survivor" in its title. 

So there's that. Alternate titles for this post: "This Is Why I'm Single", "Why Boys Hate Homeschooled Girls Almost As Much As Pacific Rim",  or "Don't Ever Give Out Your Number."  I'm open to suggestions.  

However, the week wasn't all bad.  That weekend, I went out with a really great guy that I got set up with and I had a blast!  After pizza and a driving lesson (I am determined to drive stick shift!), we watched a movie at my apartment and he kissed me!! Which I am normally opposed to, but you know, it happened and I lived to tell.  So we'll see what happens there. 

In other news (I know I know, this is turning into a short novel), Jennae and I went to California!  So get ready for a large photo-dump of pictures that are not put in any cute borders or collages. Just deal. 

stopped by for the original dirty dr. pepper's at swig in st. george - suggest! suggest!

jennae and my gramps becoming fast friends!  even though he couldn't remember her name...sorry j!
and despite popular belief...jennae IS wearing pants in this pic. 

we needed a big drink after beachin' it up. like, we needed BIG drinks. 

the only picture i took downtown at the gaslamp.  not pictured: the fun crazy drunk crowd, the hopping bars, and the men (perry and nathan) than approached j and me. jennae got a phone number, i got an ear-kiss. so there's that. 

our fight with public transportation started before we even purchased our tickets. 

anxiously awaiting our train to take us to the padre's game!

have i mentioned i love san diego?

whenever the padre's get a home run, they shoot flames and fireworks (i didn't get a good pic!). so this happened...once. 

just chillin in the ghetto for half an hour, waiting for our train. 

our day trip to laguna!! 

we could not leave without going to ruby's on oceanside pier!

surprise! j's dad was a saint and took us to disneyland!  i cried a little knowing mimi and jo weren't with us, so we'll just have to go again in october, am i right ladies??

#selfies

                 

i decided to play hero and take the front seat on splash mountain.  

so then i was just drenched the rest of the night, complete with chaffing (is that how you spell it?) between my legs (tmi). was it worth it? 

ABSOLUTELY.

the bolts played at disney! (i've actually never heard of them but they were a good time)

and we finished off the night with space mountain,  it was actually the funnest thing ever. 

goodnight, disney.

when we got back in to provo, we stopped by sammy's for a birthday party and i quickly became b-money's newest (and favorite? hopefully?) groupie along with this gal.  thanks to sweet friends that didn't leave my side during the entire exchange between me and b-money, i am ready to advertise for him! or, at least, wear the shirt to bed. 

free cd holla!!

bonding at sammy's :) 

ox/C

lima beans and berries

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Last night, I went to the grocery store to pick up a few staple items.  After chatting with a few fellow shoppers I had run into I made my way to the produce aisle.  Where I saw - no joke - the most beautiful, put together woman ever. Like, what is she doing in Provo, gracing us all with her angel presence? And, being female, I was instantly mad at myself for even trying to be in the same room as her. Who did I think I was?? Her perfect lima bean colored dress (lima beans are green, aren't they?) was making me sick with its perfection.  

Like. 

Does perfection bore you, Lima Bean? Do you look at people like me and wish your hair would frizz a little, that you would repeat your outfits as often as I do? Do you ever want to let your nail polish chip? Or is this, the coiffed hair, the ironed shirts; is this your version of happiness?

So seriously—how many of your unborn children did you sell on the black market to master that top knot and perfect skin? Inquiring minds want to know.  Your sweater definitely doesn't look like it came out of the dryer tangled up in a bra and underwear that has unraveled and wound its string around all your clothes so they're basically stuck with strangle lines the rest of their poor cotton lives.  Explain what I'm doing wrong here, Lima Bean. 

So I'm just throwing those questions out there for her in case she has time between getting ready and...getting ready to answer them.  Thanks, Lima.  

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In other news, we went to THE CUTEST farm (ranch? vineyard?) for FHE last night in Mapleton to pick raspberries.  And I'm obsessed.  Like, I'm ready to move there and be a berry farmer with bee hives!  And reindeer! And goats! 

ox/C

owning up to preposterous fears.

"hey little girl, could you take our picture for us? and could you try and get a little bit of the wall in it cause everyone else we've asked has seriously failed in the artsy department..."

she definitely did what she was asked.

also can we look at J's legs??? holy black.

Remember last fall when my car was infested with spiders? No, it isn’t absurd to be scared of the eight-legged devils. It was, however, ridiculous to avoid the car for days on end until finally begging my brother to come pick it up.  As in, made him walk to my apartment to get it so I wouldn't have to drive the 5 minutes in fear of another spider creeping out to take my life. Well, to some that's ridiculous. To me that’s just safety first. 

But my fear list doesn't end there.  Today, J and I went to Seven Peaks in Salt Lake to see what all the hype was about (note: it was such a party - i suggest it highly) and for whatever reason, I was mortified of the staircases leading up to the rides.  I'm sure I looked so handicapped walking up those treacherous things, with each step I took becoming more and more convinced it would be my last.  Those heights, man.  The rides? No problem.  I will take humiliating myself as I fly down a U-shaped slide and yet not make it up the final stretch only to slide down backwards and have to step off gracefully halfway through the ride as a whole crowd looked on (yes, that happened), but getting there takes some work.  

And let's not forget about the slide that got me out of my swimsuit.  We're talking bottoms-at-my-ankles-as-I-land-at-the-bottom.  Tell me how to get out of that one gracefully with a crowd of on-lookers that are simultaneously trying to get my tube from me as I'm pulling up my skivvies?  Sorry if you saw my lady parts, sir.  I should have warned you that the ride was just a good time and next thing I knew my bottoms slid right off! That darn slide.

Whew. 

The moral of all of this is...Seven Peaks Salt Lake is worth it? Even if you're terrified of heights and you lose your swimsuit and it is swarming with people that don't know how to take pictures? I think?

ox/C