What's the word...

You know those days when you just feel.....BLAH...?

That's been today. Actually, it's been the past week.

Why do we sometimes get in these ruts? We don't want to work, we don't want to do laundry, we don't want to go to the gym, we don't care if we eat more evil calories, we don't care if we shower...etc..etc. It's so counterproductive since it only leads to us feeling more fat, more gross, more pathetic, more behind, more BLAH.

I hate BLAH.

Anyways, I was sitting in class today, thinking about BLAH, when my computer screen savor popped up with its picture slide show. Of all pictures, this decided to make an appearance, the first time I've seen it in a long time:

It made BLAH go away long enough to wink a smile, reminiscent of such a simple, happy time. I was a sophomore in high school when I found out that Nick Lachey was making a concert stop at the nearby Pechanga Casino. I called my parents in a frenzy and for whatever reason, they relented to get me tickets. Maybe my dad secretly liked his heartbroken album too....but back to the story. It was the night of the concert, my friends and I were anxiously awaiting the show, and in walks our cheer coach. "Coach Nic? What are you doing here?"

Supposedly, Coach Nic was good friends with dreamy boy's body guard. She claimed they exchanged texts all the time. I didn't believe her until she returned with three passes.

I was on the stage, inches away from Nick Lachey, and he sang to me. I could have grabbed his backside if I wanted to....(that thought did come to mind in my fifteen seconds of fame). It was probably one of the greatest nights of my life.

In fact, it was a lot like this:



I love moments like those; moments that are vivacious and unexpected. Now why can't we ever get into THAT kind of funk?

I've heard patience is a virtue.

 .....and that good things come to those who wait. Well goodness knows, I've been waiting.

I have been pining so long for my parents to fly my little sister Mackenzie out to P-town to spend a weekend with me.....and for her to fit me into her busy dizzy schedule (she's on two cheer teams, juggles two boyfriends, was just elected senior class president, yady-yada-ya). The time has finally come. It's like the curtain is about to be drawn.....and I am so giddy with excitement.

Kenzie, Kenzoli, Pookums, or if you'd prefer to call her Miss Booty, is one of my very best friends. Even though we are on complete different sides of the spectrum (I don't have the talent to commend ONE boys attention, much less TWO...), we balance each other out, with flavor. You know what I mean?

So I've come up with a few reasons as to why should she go to school up here:
1. I'm here. Need I explain more?
2. There are tons of cute boys. Can you imagine the damage she could do?
3. The Brutsch's & Barker's reside in the area. It's been such a blessing being able to be around my sisters and their families. Being able to watch my nephew and nieces grow up has been a priceless treasure.
4. I'm here. I missed her too much this year! We were not meant to be so far away from each other for so long.
5. We could cuddle ALL the time. We love that. It's probably one of our favorite hobbies.
6. She could give me tips....Ya, I know I'm supposed to be the wise, older sister. Don't rub it in, okay?
7. We could share clothes, again. It's been rough having to be creative with my own wardrobe!
8. She could drink BYU's chocolate milk ALL the time. She doesn't know it yet, but she's addicted. Just like me. Just like you would be, too.

And oh ya, did I mention I'm here?

Provo, we only got one shot at this Utah conversion. I'm ready to give this trip my all, my everything. Are you?

CAUTION: can be scary.

I was given this teddy bear by a dear high school friend of mine for graduation....a real treasure, right?

Wrong. I mean yes, he is a treasure in relevance to the friend who gave it to me, but out of that context, he makes me want to hide in the closet. You see, he was constructed at Build-A-Bear and therefore, has a voice. Cute, right?

Wrong. When I go to sleep at night in my little dorm bed, I tend to roll around. Sometimes I get caught in sheets, sometimes I have a full bladder, sometimes the room is a little too stuffy, but worst of all, sometimes I accidentally roll onto said bear and his deep, male voice projects itself to the room. "Hey Haley"....and blah blah blah with the recording. This all happens while I'm sleeping, in the dark. It's just about the creepiest thing imaginable at 3 am. A soft scream is justifiable, right?

Right. I love this bear--in the daylight. He's cute and cuddly, like the friend who gave it to me. But he's another being when the sun goes down--like a Chuckie doll, or a Furby, or a Peeping Tom.

Build-A-Bear should include a new amendment on their birth certificates. "Warning: Is evil from the hours of 7pm-6am." Or maybe an age-appropriate rating like they use on the movies?

Hope I make it through another night alive..

Law school or NASA?

I'm currently enrolled in a Biology class, you know.....trying to get rid of some generals so I can concentrate on my major classes involving political science. I watched my roommates last year go through the course; I saw them making drawings of mitosis and spewing the details of the structure of dna. It didn't look that bad so I thought, "Hey, I can do that." I was excited to get my left brain on.

Fast forward a few weeks. I found a seat on the first day of class, next to a girl with glasses. She was the stereotypical science nerd, and to be honest, I found it kind of refreshing. I began pulling out my notebook, my pens, my computer in case I got bored, when I began sobering up from first day semester jitters to listen to what the professor was dragging on elaborately about.  A compiled bird list? Required binoculars? A field trip to see the birthing of bears? A unit on bats and cats? Confused, I turned to the girl with the glasses. "Excuse me, is this room 355? In the Marb?.....and it is Bio 100?" It turns out the professor is a bit of a nut and takes a twist to biology. I didn't know then, but his class is referred to as the "bird watching class."

That's right.....


My homework is to go outside and watch birds...



And I'm not kidding. Really...that's what we do.

Another twist of his? Our Friday lectures are allotted for our required group presentations on quarters. STATE quarters. Do you find this guy as bizarre as I do? Please, say yes.

Anyways, I had to give my presentation a few weeks ago. My group picked Ohio. Ohio is home to the history-making astronauts Neil Armstrong and John Glenn, as was Orville Wright, co-inventor of the airplane. I concluded that this is probably the state's only claim to fame, as it is the most random thing that could ever possibly be picked to be depicted on their quarter....I'm just saying.

You want to know my claim to fame? Starring in our presentation video as THE astronaut who demonstrated "the biology of a space suit." I've been considering space ever since. Thank you Professor.


P.S. Yes, that is a Star Wars Clone Trooper mask....a little walk on the dark side never hurt anyone, right? Kidding!

I did it...

....I quit the atrocious habit of biting my nails. And let me tell you, it feels good. It all started out about five years ago, I was watching some tween movie that had Mandy Moore in it. (I'm thinking Chasing Liberty...) She kept biting her nails in a flirty, biting-the-corner-of-my-lip sort of way that I wanted to mimic. So I did. Or at least tried. It eventually developed into something completely obnoxious. Rather than sultry yet cutesy, it was loud and annoying, I admit. I'll spare you the details.....but just know I'm cured.

I've never seen my nails this long. They elongate my rather thick fingers, or at least somewhat, I hope? Ah, the femininity....

"Dude--there's a Chevron.."

....I should mention that my friends also titled this post "Californication." It's clever I know, but it reminds me too much of the noun "fornication," so I refuse to really pick up on it..

California. There really isn't a sweeter thought I can think of while I'm bundled up in a wad of blankets looking out a frosted window to a wilted, dreary Utah sky. Add the additional tragic pile of homework and studying that compares to the length of the trek to the Y, and you have the essence of my entire winter semester. I don't want you to get me wrong though, I've had a great couple of months, but there's something about the cold winter here that is a little, well...depressing. The excitement of snow precipitants either a. occurs when you are sleeping, b. takes place during your school day...forcing nothing but trembling and embarrassing trips to the ground as you make your way to classes, or lastly c. transpires for about as long as a song on the radio, leaving the same dead grass as your landscape. Oooh. Oh. And the real killer for me? Christmas already passed, so no more of that snowman, home-y, let's-cuddle-by-the-fire-and-roast-chestnuts business. Why? Whyyy? (Sorry for the whiny tangent.)

My friends and I decided to take advantage of our four-day weekend and travel back to my hometown. We crammed in my little bug, blasted some muse, and didn't hesitate to look back. Let me just say our little escape was PERFECT. The California weather decided to cease raining for a few days and let the sun work its magic on my now nearly alabaster skin. In-n-Out tasted like heaven in a wrapper, and my two Cali-foreign friends claim to have had as much fun as I did with the palm trees and sea breeze. How can people leave that place? Only six more weeks and counting till I move all my things back there for the summer....finals have never sounded so good!

I have this system worked out with my parents where I have a gas card, but it's only usable at Chevron stations. For any of you that have made this drive, you know that you have to be pretty thorough about planning out your pit stops ahead of time or you'll soon be stuck with tumbleweeds and fifty or so miles of red sand abyss on either side. I got so frustrated when I was nearing empty on my dashboard and couldn't find one of those blasted blue and white Chev signs. I ended up having to pull over at the nemesis, Mobil, and using my personal credit card instead. Within the next ten miles after, we passed probably four Chevs. I considered lighting one on fire, like they do in Zoolander, only I would make sure no one was around first since it was Chev I was mad at, and not the cashier. I've never resented a thirty dollar purchase so much. And let me just say, my friends can pick out a Chevron now like a bear smells food.

For our dinner stop we had to resort to a gas station jointed to Burger King. We waited in line for probably thirty minutes and decided that a whopper wasn't worth it, opting for lunchable pizzas and a chicken bake instead. My bake tasted like a shoe, or maybe one of those Harry Potter puke flavored jelly beans? I didn't investigate much further. In any case, bite that seven dollar purchase in the bottom too.


Me and Corey. Told you I'm white.


Lauren and Emily.

Despite these minor implications, we had so much fun. I know it's pretty, okay, REALLY cliche, but it was one of those "wow, I'm a college student" moments. It was great. Some of our best adventures:

Playing "pick-a-song-and-sing-it-the-best-you-can-at-the-top-of-your-lungs" game in the car. I still think Em won.



Going to the beach everyday.













Having a t.v. to watch the Olympics..though I have got to say the opening ceremonies this year weren't my favorite. This, however, is. Boy is a crack up on ice.



Darla (that's the name of my car) got to wear her hair down a little bit in what seems like forever. She hasn't been home since June! And she made completely new friends as everyone living at home has a different car than they did when we left.







I already mentioned it, I know, and it's probably more so not much of a big deal since we now have one opened in Orem....but In-n-Out. Oh how I missed it. I've refused to go in O-town because it's simply a home/California thing for me. It almost makes me mad that they brought it for the enjoyment of the Utah masses. Am I started to sound like an arrogant Californian? Like the stereotypical, egocentric American that foreigners complain about? I hate that. I'm stopping now...I promise.





When you are in the "BYU bubble," you forget about the outside, secular world. It was a new eye-opening experience going to Hollywood. The cat whistles, the hobos, the "shops"....you know what I mean.










To break up the nine hour drive, and have a little more fun before the next day of classes, we stopped in Primm to ride the Buffalo Bills roller coaster. This may or may not be my personal favorite part of the entire weekend. Just thought I'd throw that out there.



Not pictured: it was the birthday of my late cousin Aaron. It was great being able to make it to his party, where I got to spend quality time with my extended family (my aunt Sheri and uncle Marc are the greatest!). I felt a little closer to the someone I hold so dear in my heart. I miss you Air.

P.S. Grammy, thanks for my favorite meal on Sunday :] I miss you, too.

Festivities of the holidays.

Last night I was taken to the...



in Sandy, Utah. It was AMAZING. There were over 800 stunning Christmas trees decorated in various themes and a truly unbelievable Gingerbread village. These were some of my favorites:







As far as the Christmas trees go, I don't even know where to start. It was incredible. The themes were so creative and diverse! I kept walking around and thinking, "Oh! This one is soo Lauren." Or, "This one is soo Trent." I eventually just took out my camera and decided to make a blog post out of it, for the very best people in the world to spend the holidays with: my family. It goes like this:



This tree is symbolic of my crafty and resourceful mother. It's amazing what she can do with a sewing machine, some paint, and a little glue gun. I have yet to meet someone so creative. I'm pretty sure she has the same superhuman DNA as Picasso, Beethoven, Dali, and Chagall. She's a genius and I feel so fortunate to have lived in her home where every holiday is decorated like Christmas. It has constituted such a large part of my childhood.

I also thought this one represented you, Mom.

Wait for the close-up:

It's just like your freakish leprechaun I have nightmares of. Read this.
I've come to trust that this is a part of your genius creativity too...haha.


The BYU Football tree. You know where I'm going with this--my dad. He's obsessed! He flies up from California with my mom for nearly every home game, and has done this for as long as I can remember. If you take the time to ask, he can tell you all the statistics about the players and as additional reinforcement, he will load the Cougarfan website on his blackberry. I love my dad for his infatuation with BYU football. I've come to realize than in an unorthodox way, it's sort of romantic. (To this he would probably respond with some mild potty joke.)


This Utes tree is for my brother-in-law Craig, a die-hard fan of BYU's biggest nemesis. This guy adds such dynamic to Saturday game days. It's one of the reasons I respect and adore him so much. The entire family will be decked out in their navy blue and white Cougar jersey memorabilia, and then there is Craig in his unspoken red defiance. Despite the apparent odds of their respective superstar teams, Craig and my dad share a close friendship through other mediums: their easy-going personalities and a mutual obsession in another category of sports--golf.


I know this picture isn't great, but it's a tree adorned with jewelry. Adorable, chic jewelery to be exact, in honor of my older sister Danielle. She recently created Modern Vintage Boutique, an online store of super cute accessories and clothes. I sometimes get to see her inventory in person and just gasp at the pretty reflections made as the sun passes through her trendy trinkets. I love and am proud of the entrepreneur she has become.


I introduce the dessert tree, dedicated to my older sister Lauren. This woman is controlled by her enormous sweet tooth and love of sugar. She eats her glucose-enriched foods before/in substitution of a conventional entree. Her pantry is swarmed with such goodies, which is one of the many reasons I love stopping by (I admit). I don't understand how she looks so great. Where does it go?!


Okay so I know these are dirt bikes, but it was the closest I could find to my biking brother-in-law Ben. He's the next Lance Armstrong in my book. He loves, loves, loves his bikes and I love him for the knowledge I acquire from it. I went to one of his races in Park City this summer and learned all about Lotoja and the like. THEN, the next day I met the president of the Biking Club and sustained a ten minute conversation about it. I like to think Ben would have been proud..


This tree is in honor of my older brother Trent. Even after his "maturing" mission, he would beat and tickle me, claiming that someday when he made it famous, I would appreciate the hassle. He used this excuse a lot actually; he used it when forcing me to iron his shirts, make his bed, clean his car, do his college organic chemistry homework packets, etc. (You get the jist of our relationship.) I guess in a way he was right. He is now residing in Nashville and going to fancy-pancy events with the likes of such Hollywood icons as Carrie Underwood and Taylor Swift.



My beautiful sister-in-law Brooke has a thing for birds, though the ones she likes are more chic. When the Griffiths lived in Costa Mesa, they had the cutest apartment that had them furnished everywhere. I even think Anthropolgie copied her...because I'm noticing that nearly everything they have in their stock recently has birdies incorporated into it! I'm telling you, she has the best style and Anthropolgie.com agrees.

For my older brother Blake I have a couple representations.
Number one.

The Nightmare Before Christmas' music score was done by Danny Elfman, Blake's idol. Whenever I drove in the car with Blakie I'd make sure that this was the soundtrack that was playing because it was the only thing in his quirky music genre that I recognized. We bonded over it. This, and Ween.

Number two.

Blake is very artistic and likes avantgarde and eccentric things. He's a nonconformist. That's why I love him. I would imagine him to have a tree like this.

Number three.


Even though Blake is brilliant and has some major musical talent, he claimed for the majority of his adolescence that he was only applying to clown college. What a goon! Though he has confessed to his larger ambitions, he's still a clown at heart. He watches High School Musical with me and has a crush on Disney's Ashley Tisdale. He even still wears his spiderman boxers. Luckily, he exterminated his booger collection along with the clown school idea.




This is what I refer to as the beanie-baby tree (notice that they are hung as ornaments). I thought this was symbolic of my little sister Mackenzie. Though I haven't formally verbalized it, I still hold quite a bit of a grudge regarding these little treasures. You see, growing up Kenzie and I had to share everything as the "little girls"; we had to share identities, a bedroom, a bathroom, the sought after Spice Girl barbie dolls I would have given my arm for, and yes you guessed it, my prestigious beanie-baby collection. Back then I was the same person that I am now...a little OCD. I tried to take such cautious care of my babies, even placing them in their separate plastic boxes to be admired from a distance. I was convinced the beanies would make me rich someday....that is until I'd come home and find that Kenzie had ripped off some of their tags. Gasp. Tears. Heartbreak. I'm still bitter. Eventually we graduated to Pokemon cards where we no longer were forced to share. Can you believe she had the audacity to get the Charizard halligraphic card before I did?! Hmph.

There you go. My family in a nutshell. I can't wait to be home for the holidays!