Mormons in Vegas

Welcome to the Annual Barlocker Mormon Christmas Trip to Sin City!!!

That's right. Every year, a few days before Christmas the Barlocker's get together in one of the dirtiest cities in America.

Vegas as a Mormon is an entirely different experience.

For instance:

Latino dudes handing you porn on the street? - Simply reply with "No me gusta pinoche"

Half dressed alcoholic begging for money on the street? - Remind them "Jesus loves you" and only make fun of them when they are out of hearing range.

Tempted by the hypnotizing ring of the slot machines? - Just sneak down there at night when your parents and husband aren't there to give you disapproving stares. It's ok to gamble if it's only $10 on the Wild Unicorn slot machines right?

You are probably thinking.... If you don't collect free porn, make fun of homeless people or gamble, why go to Vegas?

1. Food
The Treasure Island buffet has Cotton Candy.

2. Shopping
My Mom and Dad love me and like to buy me stuff and things.

3. Shows
We saw Blue man group and Cirque de Soleil's Le Reve.

Also if you are pregnant you can have even more fun!!!

3. While you are throwing up in the bathroom from morning sickness, you can accidentally pee your pants. Then when you join everyone else at the table you can explain yourself. Walking back to your hotel on the strip is even more fun as you waddle along in your soiled pants. At least it was raining so moist pants were a little more common.

4. While driving home the baby can kick your bladder and make you have to pop a squat on the side of the road (namely ZZYZX road). This is even better if you have a little diarrhea. It's especially awesome when your husband promises not to watch but then totally watches the whole thing. At least I had wet naps in the car....

(Note: maternity pants are even less flattering when they're around your ankles.)



Pornographic Ultrasound

It's a Boy!

Or a really masculine girl, as my dad suggested.

Naturally, after seeing the pornographic nature of this picture, I asked my doctor if fetuses get boners.
She said they don't. Luckily. That would have been creepy.

I have already had issues coming to terms that there is a little wiener hanging out inside my body.

I was kind of hoping for a girl, but after I bought a tiny tuxedo t-shirt for the well-hung boy I felt better.

Oh yeah, here's a belly picture just for you Kenzie.


B is for Bratty

About a month ago, after my constipation issues, this pleasant conversation took place.

Office Girl: Vagina doctors of Channel Islands, how may I help you?

Me: Hi, I missed my appointment last Thursday due to extreme constipation. I need to reschedule.

OG: You didn't show up for your appointment last week? Shame on you. I will take the next few minutes to get mad at you and make you feel guilty for missing your appointment...............................................Ok, which doctor do you normally see?

Me: Dr. Ferro (the only female at that practice)

OG: oh..... well..... she is out of town this entire week.

Me: No big deal, I'll make an appointment for next week.

OG: No, that's too late, it says here that you need to have your 16 week exam.

Me: No.

OG: um.....

Me: There is no way I'm going to a male Doctor for this. I'll wait for Dr. Ferro

OG: No, it will be too late, you need to come in asap.

Me: No way.

OG: I'll schedule your appointment

Me: I don't think you understand. I have a major problem with male doctors. I sometimes have to get internal ultrasounds because of previous cysts and there is no way that is happening with a male doctor.

OG: You still need to come in.

Me: Do you even know what an internal ultrasound is?

OG: I don't think you have to have one of those.

Me: You better make sure because if I come in and have to do any vagina stuff, I'll fake constipation and leave.

OG: Please hold.................................................

OG: Ok, you only have to have an external ultrasound.

Me: No vagina stuff?

OG: No vagina stuff.

Me: Promise?

OG: Promise.

Me: K - sign me up.

Don't worry, I just called back later and rescheduled with the chic doctor.


Pee Stick

Usually if I have a huge problem or stress in my life I ignore it until is goes away. I realize this isn't necessarily a healthy coping mechanism but (normally) it works beautifully.

So almost 5 months ago when I discovered this:

... I realized that I actually didn't want this problem to go away. Very usual behavior. I have an aversion to all things that potentially cause stress or make me gain weight, and this was sure to do both of those things.

Regardless, I am 5 months knocked up next week. I am due May 2. I will find out the sex next Monday. amen.


Commandment #11

I've committed a horrible sin.

Yes, I've broken the cardinal rule of all rules. The coup de grace of all mortal blows. The question that can only end up embarrassing both the asker and the recipient.

I asked a chick if she was pregnant.

First Offense
When: 2006

Where: Outback Steakhouse in Dayton, Ohio

Who: Me (the waitress) and an unsuspecting customer

Why: I was young and naive

I swear this 30-something year old chick looked 7 months pregnant. Plus, she and her date were holding hand across the table all night talking about kids. When I handed them the check, I inquired about their impending Due Date.

Me: So, when are you due?
Unsuspecting Chick: um, excuse me?

Me: Uhhhhhh... when are you due (*cough*)
UC: I think I misunderstood you, say it again?

Me: Here's your check.

Then I ran away. I also paid another waiter $5 to go pick up their credit card so I wouldn't have to face the angry couple. I didn't get a tip. Did I learn my lesson??? OF COURSE NOT! I even discussed this last week at a dinner with a group of friends. We all agreed that the question of pregnancy is to be avoided no matter what. A couple days later I did this:

Second Offense

When: 2 Days ago

Where: A store at the mall
Who: The salesgirl
Why: I am a flat out idiot

The sales girl looked knocked up. She was actually wearing a maternity shirt that the store had displayed in the front window. I put it together: maternity shirt + pregnant looking stomach = 100% pregnant. WRONG! I felt like such a jerk-off I stayed and talked to her for 10 minutes about her kids. I even looked at pictures of them and said, "Awwwww! They are precious! Look at all that hair!"

Then I left and Jared called me dumb.

Pregnant or fat? That is the question. And I will never ask it again.

I hereby promise to never ask another human that question ever, ever, ever. May God forgive me. amen.


Meat Stick

As I prepare to visit my family for the holidays, I am reminded of childhood traditions..... most notably..... the Meat Stick.

My family loves these things.

On Christmas morning we would all wake up to stockings filled with a toothbrush, peanuts, and our very own Meat Stick. Jared vividly remembers visiting the Barlocker house while we were dating.

"I'd come over and there would be like 9 Meat Sticks scattered around the house. All of them would have various amounts gnawed off."

He once found my little sisters meat stick behind the pillow on the couch. She was very grateful that he had found it and began chewing off the side of it.

That's how we roll at the Barlocker house. word.

Side-note: I would not recommend eating any meat that does not require refrigeration.


I Found a Tooth

Everyday I go to work hoping something awesome will happen. Yesterday it did.

I found a tooth. In the Cafeteria, next to a bag of old brown apple slices. I eyed it suspiciously for about 2 minutes. Then I called out, "OK gross kids.... who's missing a tooth?"

Three kids raised their hands.
All three came up, looked at the tooth in question and said "nope, not mine" or "mine was bigger."

Now there is a Lost and Found box for missing teeth in the Boys and Girls Club Office.

Two Questions:
Why are kids so nasty?
What is wrong with my life?


Meet Frank

At the Boys and Girls club we are making "all about me" journals. Each day I give them a page they get to fill out and color.

This is what sweet little 6-year-old Frank turned in:

Me too Frank, me too.


T is for Texting

I now know what is feels like for someone who has herpes.

Every time I tell someone I don't have text messaging, they look at me like I have herpes.
Complete disgust, confusion and parental disappoint covers their faces.
After my confession I feel so dirty and ashamed.
Why I don't have text messaging:
  • I am too cheap to pay for it. $20 a month to send people little love notes?
  • I don't even like communicating with other people.
  • My phone bothers me enough. I am not responsible enough to remember it all the time and am the WORST when it comes to calling people back. It's not personal, I ignore everyone equally.
  • Then my work can get a hold of me easier. No thanks.
It basically comes down to the fact that I just don't want to pay for it.
Stop looking at me like I'm all Herpetic*. amen.

*disease infested


Embarrassing Deliverance

Last Thursday was one of the worst days of my life.

I woke up to horrible cramps that made me drop more than a few obscenities. I thought maybe I had a monster ovarian cyst again but then I remembered I hadn't pooped in 5 days.

Constipation is of the devil. I thought I was about to give birth to the King of Darkness himself. If you have ever been that constipated you know what I'm talking about. Every time I moved my intestines freaked out so I stayed in fetal position crying "mommy" for over 2 hours.

Having never had 5 days worth of turds stuck in my intestines I called my Doctor in a panic. I had to explain my ailment to 3 different people before they let me talk to the nurse. Reiterating my butt issues to strangers was the last thing I wanted to do.

The nurse suggested I go buy some enemas, suppositories or mineral oil. However this would require me actually going to the store. I went through a mental list of people I could call for emergency butt supplies. I was such a mess I decided no one should witness me in this condition. I was going to venture to Rite Aid alone.

In my pajamas, I put on a hoodie, sunglasses and Nikes. I walked carefully to the car. I arrived at Rite Aid and wondered around for butt supplies. I was walking like I was holding a quarter between my butt cheeks. This took so much concentration I began to sweat.

I asked the pharmacist where I could find stuff to get 5 days worth of poop out of my body, she pointed to isle 3. She did not appreciate my wit when I asked her if Rite Aid sold pick-axes.

I bought every butt supply available. Enemas, suppositories, mineral oil, Metamucil, laxative, stool softener. Anything that had to do with butts I was going to buy. I wanted a full arsenal of weapons to use on my buttocks.

I got home and suspiciously eyed my purchases. I needed something that would work fast. The enemas promised to work in 5-15 minutes, but I was skeptical about putting that much liquid in my bum. It looked like the suppositories were going to be the best option.

Now, I was terrified of putting something in my butt. I didn't grow up in that kind of household. But, I was also terrified of my entire body filling up with dookie and eventually choking on it.

Shaking my head in shame I inserted it. I don't know what was worse: the fact that I put something in my butt on purpose or the fact that it wasn't that bad.
I struggled to wait 15 minutes like the package suggested. I waddled to the toilet and recited positive affirmations. "Soft serve ice cream, dump trucks, etc."

Finally, deliverance. Embarrassing deliverance.

P.S. If anyone needs constipation relief, my arsenal is full.


Maple Pee

A couple days ago I woke up to my bathroom and bedroom smelling like maple syrup and pee. The only logical conclusion was that I was peeing maple syrup at night.

I remembered that I once heard someone saying if you smell like maple syrup then you might have diabetes. After 2 hours of intense WebMD research I figured I probably didn't have diabetes. Good thing because I do not want to spend my Sephora budget on insulin.

Then..... the next morning I smelt it again! I am obsessed with the way things smell and do not want my house smelling like a diabetic urinater lives there. I had to get to the bottom of this.

I asked Jared if he could smell it. He mentioned that he just thought I was on an eggo waffle binge again.

But then
....he remembered that the girl who rents our basement apartment burns candles 24 hours a day. We called her and asked her if we could go turn her candle off. Jared went around to her door and blew out her pear-maple-pee-spice candle.

Then my house smelled normal again. amen.


Porn for Dinner

Jared and I took a romantic trip for two.

Cruises are a great vacation for many reasons, but the never-ending parade of buffet food is one of the best. At night you get a little dressed up and go to the dining room for amazing dinners.

Food is included in the cost of the cruise. Unashamed, Jared usually orders 2-3 appetizers and 2-3 entrees. I have better self-control and only order 1-2 of each thing.

We are determined not to let social etiquette get in our way of eating like rabid dogs. When other cruise donkeys give us stink eyes for beating the system, we let our mouths foam up a little and growl at them. It works out rather nicely.

Jared likes to try the "exotic" options on the nights menu. This is what the waiter brought him:

A vagina?

I thought "exotic" referred to something like escargot or munudo, not crotch.

What if there were kids at the table??? How was I to be sure that is had been cooked properly and all the STD's were killed??? Was I obligated to contact PETA??? What is that suspicious looking red sauce???

Turns out they were frog legs..... boring. amen.


Titty Twisters

The Boys and Girls Club after school program is not a free for all daycare center. The kids actually have planned activities and supplemental instruction every day.

Each week the different grades are assigned different "enrichment activities". The first graders are doing a program called
We were discussing the importance of peace and how our actions can increase or decrease it.
A sample discussion from Monday:

What are things we do that decrease the peace?

Kid 1:
pushing other people.

Yes, what else?

Kid 2:
not sharing

Kid 3: hitting other people

Awesome Kid:
giving girls titty twisters

Wait..... what?

Awesome Kid: titty twisters?

Awesome kid had a serious look on his face. He was not joking around. I looked over at my aide as we both started laughing. I was so proud that 6 year old kids were catching onto to the idea. With tears in my eyes I replied:

Yeah, titty twisters definitely decrease the peace.

Then I made them color because I couldn't stop giggling.


The Sound Machine

This is one of the best things ever.

Marpac Sound Conditioner SleepMate 580A Sound Machine.

It provides white noise while you sleep and it is awesome. All the annoying things that wake you up are masked by the sound.

  • Jared's sporadic snoring
  • Jared waking up at 5:15 am every day
  • Chirping Birds
  • etc.

It is a little bit like crack. I am so addicted to this thing. I take it with me on every trip. I feel so alone and scared without it.

I expect to find this especially useful once I have kids. amen.


Employment is Overrated

I chose the Boys and Girls Club.
Big Surprise.

I cant get enough of Jared so I obviously chose the schedule that would accommodate the most make-out sessions.
AND I get to wear awful staff t-shirts to work everyday! I can still wear jeans and flip flops..... a fair exchange.

After work I have to come home and disinfect myself because there is kid all over me. ew. Kids are gross.

I have a even more respect for elementary teachers now.

(I don't know who's kid this is, but she's nasty)

But overall, a pretty awesome job.


Decisions with an 8-ball

After halfheartedly searching for a job the last few weeks, some offers finally came in. I had a very strict list of requirements that had to be met before I resigned from being a stay-at-home wife.
  • I must be able to wear my normal clothes......I hate uniforms
  • My supervisor must not be a power tripping 20-something year old
  • I have to be able to use the job as a "paid internship" for my last class this semester, there is now way I'm volunteering when I can get paid
  • Schedules must be flexible
  • The work itself must help the community so I can earn karma points (while getting paid)
I was offered a job at Casa Pacifica as a youth behavioral therapist (fancy title!) It is a group home for severely abused and neglected kids. As the Mecca for Social Work graduates, it is notoriously hard to get hired. Most of these kids have huge issues. In the interview the dude asked me if I minded getting punched or kicked in the face.... I replied that that was one of my favorite past times.

The next day I was offered the job. I'm sure that the guy could tell that I could totally take a kick in the face from a 14 year old.
I was stoked about this job and couldn't wait to brag to my class that I would be getting paid for my internship.

A few days later The Boys and Girls Club called me. I interviewed with them about a month ago and hadn't heard anything back. They offered me a job as an after school program coordinator.

Now I'm in a bind. Which one should I accept?

Casa Pacifica



7 min from home

By the beach

Help kids

Cool Supervisor

Fancy title

Good experience

Can use for Intership


24-hour fitness gym pass

Get kicked in face

Crazy hours – have to work until 10pm every night

Will only see Jared on Sunday and Monday night

Have to witness effects of child abuse without hunting the perpetrator down and breaking their kneecaps.

Boys and Girls Club



Help Kids

Will learn more Spanish

Better pay

Can use for internship

Plan all activities

Use lessons plans to teach kids that drugs and gang banging are bad, mmmmkay.

No kicks to the face

Awesome hours

Can see Jared every night

Supervisor looks like Telemundo Soap Opera Star

25 min from home

Doesn’t look as good on Resume

Have to wear a club t-shirt

I bet this guy has some good advice.


E is for Emily

Courtesy of Urban Dictionary, All you ever need to know about an Emily is right here.


C is for Citation

I had to take a class this summer (and one this fall) to completely finish my degree. I thought I was too smart for the CSUN parking patrol officers and decided not to pay for the $180 summer parking pass.

I only had class twice a week so I figured that the probability of getting a ticket was slim to none.
Plus I like to beat the system.
(Especially after paying $2300 for a 5 credit class).

Regardless of my calculated parking, on the last day of class I found a pink slip on my windshield. After mumbling a few choice words directed at the parking officers, I was somewhat relieved to find that my citation was only $45.

I was angry but
as I sat at my desk to write the check out, I rationalized that I received an entire semester of parking for $45. That is a $135 savings.

Take that CSUN.

Instead of writing obscenities on the envelope I did this instead:

I win again. amen.

P.S. Feel free to send any hate mail to the above address.


A is for Average

My job search has not been going very well. So instead of playing tennis, hiking and visiting my friends newborn babies, I am going to actually send in some resumes to some places.

Looking at my resume is somewhat depressing as it is completely and utterly AVERAGE.

It basically looks like this:

School: Cal State - Typical school - Average degree
GPA: Above average -
(But I did go to a state university)
Work Experience - Lame college jobs at ordinary retail locations

Volunteer experience - Ample but average

I also will include a a cover letter, as I am obviously a professional.

To Potential Employer,

I have little experience in the Social Work field but I do have a degree if that means anything to you. I would love a job where I get paid a lot, not only with money but also with emotional reward, so I feel like I am doing something worthwhile in the world (If anyone needs karmic retribution, I do). And I would like to wear whatever I want everyday. I prefer jeans and flip flops.
I don't like to wake up before 8am and want to spend Saturdays with my husband, not at work.

I look forward to hearing from you,

Pretty professional. I know. I should have a real job in no time.


Not Private!

Dear 4 people reading this,

I am sorry I had to go private for a few days.

I am looking for a real job and did not want potential employers to Google my name and find this fiasco.

To be clear, I am not trying to hide anything, I would just prefer the employer to have an unbiased opinion of me.

The fact that I accidentally shaved off my own eyebrow is not something I want an interviewer to ask me about. It is embarrassing.

I also do not want them to know in advance how witty and charming I am. I want them to be able to find out on their own.
My wit is more refreshing when unexpected.

So, for the next few weeks/months/years until I find a real job I may go private from time to time. But rest assured that I would never go private with out inviting you, the 4 people that read this.
I crave attention way too much.



Meet Sara

  • She is my bratty little sister.
  • She's 10 years younger than me.
  • Her sarcastic/witty attitude is coming along quite nicely.
  • She is going through puberty as we speak.

She is starting to look like me too. It kinda creeps me out.

Bratty Sister:
At least I am the pretty one...............

But I'm sure that her 50-year-old face will be much better than my 60-year-old face. At least until I load up on Botox and Juvederm.

Last time I visited Utah we had a Throw-Down.
Sara thought she could wrestle me. But my old woman strength and pure mean-ness pinned her down in 5 seconds. Booyah!

Another Throw-Down is scheduled for Thanksgiving.


My Hair

Thanks to prenatal vitamins I've been taking for a few years my hair is the longest it's been for a long time. After a disastrous haircut that looked like a mullet with thin wispy strands coming out everywhere, I vowed never to cut my hair short again. And when I do get my hair cut I specify that I don't want a hipster-emo mullet.

The only problem is that I find my hair everywhere.

  • in the dryer's lint catcher
  • on my pillow
  • stuck in my broom
  • on Jared's shirt
  • my bathroom floor and counters
  • weaved in my toothbrush
  • one time in the Chinese food I made
  • in Jared's face when were making out
  • hiding in the nooks in my car

and the worst is when I find it after it gathers into:

  • my butt-crack in the shower
Then I have to dig it out and stick it to the shower wall. Bleh.

But even worser than the worst is after our someone stays at our house and I find their private hairs in the shower and/or the toilet seat.
The men is Jared's family are especially hairy, except for Jared because he is perfect (and shaves). So when Jared's bro, Baby Brian, stayed with us a few weeks ago I had to keep an eye out for runaway pubes.Furry toilet after Baby Brian was done punishing it. :(

Thanks for spending time reading about such important issues. amen.


Exercise Ball

The best $16.99 I have spent in the last 6 months was on my exercise ball.
I spend a lot of time staring at computer screens and textbooks pretending to do homework, so what is better than getting a little workout while I'm doing it?

Now I use it all the time, as this picture by Jared illustrates:



The Barranca

Jared called the ravine across the street a "barranca." I told him that he can't just go around making up words.
To my surprise I found that barranca is actually legit

Courtesy of Merriam-Webster:

plural - Barrancos
: a deep gully or arroyo with steep sides
: a steep bank or bluff

Now I use the word all the time because it sounds cool.

Sadly, yesterday the barranca caught fire.

The entire mountainside is now ashes.

I just know it was some stupid teenager trying to rebel by smoking pot in the back country of wholesome Camarillo, California. There are always these tweens parking in front of our house then hiking up the barranca to play"I'll show you mine if you show me yours". gross.

On second thought, it could have been one of the various homeless people that camp up there from time to time.


How to be White Trash

Now that I am a certified Sociologist (thanks CSUN!!!) I can comment on societies problems with slightly more authority than before.

Today's Topic: White Trash

Pulling up to a beautiful secluded cove in Powell only to see it littered with garbage was a testament to how many white trash people run amok on our planet. My earth-loving sister in law trolled around camp gathering all the junk other people had littered.
Dirty diapers, used toilet paper, plastic bottles, beer cans and golf tees were among the treasures she found.

I am an
equal opportunity hater so when I refer to "white trash" it pertains more to behavior than "whiteness." All races may be labeled white trash so long as they exhibit some or all of the following behaviors:
  • Littering pristine campsites with no regard for nature, beauty or other campers
  • Drinking Keystone light, especially if you stack it all in a pyramid on your boat at the marina then take a million pictures of it
  • Wearing anything with a beer logo
  • You name your kid after a car, band or favorite alcohol
  • White shirt, no bra
  • More hair on your body than on your head
  • Are this guy
  • Drive a car that is nicer than your trailer-home.... so people think you are cool when your hittin up the clubs dawg!
  • Spend your food stamps on People Magazine
  • Use the motorized shopping scooters at Albertsons just because you are lazy
  • Put your kids on a leash (I am totally going to do this by the way, I already have a leash and choke chain)
  • Face tattoos
  • Purchasing your underwear from 25 cent machines. I found these at a roadside cafe while in Rome, Italy. I assume supplying emergency underwear is a lucrative business in places where wine flows like water.

I have witnessed a majority of this madness in the past 2 weeks alone. Obviously this is not a conclusive list, as many other behaviors are considered W.T.
Feel free to contribute to the list. amen.


My Chacos

The last week of my life was spent ditching school, work and other important responsibilities to explore Lake Powell. Though I am not sure if I am still employed, you would ditch out too if you could chill here:

What is awesome about this picture (besides that I am in it)???

How about the fact that I am strolling up a steep slippery rock with the grace of a ninja?

The best shoes ever made. ever.

I can do whatever I want when I am wearing these. I run up whatever rocks I want to summit. They grip onto everything and will never fall off. You can imagine how awesome my tan lines are. Nothing is as classy as a girl who hasn't showered for a week wearing a pair of these.

I have had them for five years and they are still way better than your sandals. I promise your life would be way better if you bought some.

They are the only shoes I pack when I go to Lake Powell. I am funnier, prettier, and more charming when I wear them. Just ask Jared's family.

I even wear them when I sleep just in case I have to pee in the middle of the night. There is no way I'm popping a squat with out the peace and comfort my Chacos give me.

Let's not forget how useful they are if you want to scoop out dead carp before you go swimming.
More amazing Lake Powell stories to follow. amen.


No One Likes Knee Shorts

Today I was walking down a long sidewalk at Cal State University. As I passed by a 20-something black dude, he called me an "Ugly White B*tch".......... seriously.
I assume my knee length shorts really offended him.

Now I have been called the B-word plenty of times in my day, but never unprovoked. And though my knee length shorts are pretty ugly, they do not warrant that kind of language. Usually this would have caused me to bust out my most refreshingly witty insults, but as he was a big black dude and I am just an ugly white girl, I just agreed and kept walking.

I hate knee shorts just as much as the next black guy. But I hate people looking at my upper thighs even more. I especially hate when you sit down and your fat squeezes out to the sides and you know in your heart that everyone in the room is thinking about how fat your thighs look.
They are also an essential part of my Mormon girl wardrobe.

So whatever, angry black guy, I will wear knee shorts whenever I feel like it.


Touchdown Jesus

This majestic southwestern Ohio landmark was destroyed recently. Touchdown Jesus will no longer be greeting angry people driving along Interstate 75.
Having driven past it 3 times a week during my stay in Dayton, I am slightly disturbed by this information.

I'm pretty sure this was how it happened:

1. Behold approximately $300,000 was given to be spent upon a 64 stone tall likeness of Jesus. And a massive cross was laid beside to give the likeness an added contemporary flair.
2. And they named it Touchdown Jesus.
3. And the drivers were happy as they dwelt in their cars along Interstate 75, momentarily forgiving other drivers abominations as they looked upon Touchdown Jesus.
4. And it came to pass that God wasn't a huge fan of the monument and thought the Solid Rock Church was full of iniquity. Therefore a terrorist attack from heaven was planned. Lightning was sent from the heavens causing the statue to be engulfed in the fiery flames of wrath.
5. And there was great mourning among the Ohioan people. And there was weeping and wailing and sad posts on the peoples blogs.
6. And the church no longer spent their gold and other fine things on useless weird statues. And the Ohioan people were scared to sin. amen.


Open Letter of Apology

Dear Person(s) I have Mooned,

I know images of my white bum have littered many of your minds. Now I am older and more aware of the shattered dreams caused by my constant adolescent mooning.

To my entire childhood ward and neighborhood, I am sorry that I felt mooning was the funniest thing ever, even though it kind of is.
Every so often I am reminded by an old friend of my offensive behavior. I now realize that every emotion does not warrant a moon. I also understand that giant magnifying glasses are not an open invitation for mooning.

This girl, who goes by Larry or Jewel, was a major influence in my mooning career. Being the outcasts of the Copper Hills High soccer team, we felt that exposing our cheeks was the only was to gain the respect we deserved. Multiple double dares and her willingness to participate only fueled the madness. While driving to different schools to play soccer, the team would reserve the back seats for Larry/Jewel and myself. Her and I mooning out the back windows really got the team pumped up. I will not even mention the shenanigans of soccer camp. (But I will post of picture....naturally.)

Either way, I now know the error of my ways. I quit mooning cold turkey and have not mooned anyone for months.
I hope all of you that had to endure my calls for attention will forgive me.

That is all, emily

P.S. Melinda, sorry for mooning you at the bus stop that one time. amen.


Pizza Face

My face and I have been running into some serious issues in our relationship.

Having never broken out as a teenager, my skin now insists on producing zits with a vengeance. Normally birth control and topical creams keep my wrathful acne under control, but for some reason I cannot seem to get knocked up when taking the meds. Believe me. I've tried. A LOT.
I don't know what I did to make my face so angry at me. It could be those long nights I slept in my makeup, not consistently wearing SPF 15 or higher, or maybe it was those violent biore pore strips that rip the skin off along with the blackheads. I don't know. I just wish my face would make peace with me.

My most recent attempts includes a laser and a 4 foot tall Dermatologist Assistant. I don't know if this will wrestle my face into submission, but I am willing to give it an aggressive try.
My last treatment was yesterday before class which was a really great idea on my part. Stumbling into class 10 minutes late with a bright red face is not really what I want to be known for. (I would much rather be known for my refreshingly witty comments mid-lecture and my expertise in all things deviant......)

Though I love dealing with acne and the appearance of fine lines and wrinkles at the same time, I would really love it if my face didn't resemble a pepperoni pizza 1 week a month.

I will admit that I do love it when Jared adoringly calls me "pizza face".......but please pray that my face will stop being so inconsiderate. amen.



Is delicious. It is also on sale at Albertson's right now. 2 for $6.

I never buy it because I want to eat it all by myself, but how am I supposed to refuse a 2 for $6 deal?

It is in the freezer right now taunting me at 5:45 am.
If you wake up 2-3 hours early thinking about bacon, something is probably wrong with you..... That only bacon can cure.

Why I like it:
  • Its the best thing ever



How To Earn a 4-year Degree in 7 Years

Wednesday, May 19, I participated in my fake graduation ceremony.
Fake because all they handed me was a blank sheet of paper inside a red leather folder.
Also fake because I still have 3 summer classes before I actually earn the degree.

Though a lie, my graduation was monumental nonetheless.
As I waltzed across the stage alongside the other 1200 graduates, I felt in my heart that I was about to change the world for the better. Nothing like a state university's mass graduation can fill your soul with determination and resolve take on human poverty and global warming. Listening to the same two announcers read names for over 3 hours will do that to you.
When you earn a degree in Sociology you just know you will be successful and make a huge impact on the world.

Graduating in 4 years is for wussies.

Have you ever wondered how you can push your graduation date back a few years?
Follow these steps to extend your 4 years at college into a more substantial chunk of time:

1. From a young age, tell your parents that you hate college and there is no way you are going. Do absolutely nothing to ensure your place at a reputable university. This will show your parents that your teenage angst is serious and not even messing around. When you realize that Assistant Manager at a mall is not you goal in life you hurry and to apply the the crappiest college you can think of.

2. Transfer to a bunch of different schools. Not only will you lose a ton of credits, you will lose money, time, and patience. I only transferred to 5 different schools, but with more ambition I am sure you could at least enroll at 9 adding 3-4 years onto your career as a professional student.

3. Move into your father-in-laws basement and quit school for a few semesters so you can travel to awesome places.

4. Transfer again.

5. Take a ton a of cool classes that have nothing to do with your major like, History of Rock and Roll, Beginning Pottery, Costume Design, Intro to Bee-keeping and Ballroom Dancing.

6. Fail math class 3 different times at 3 different schools.

7. Don't choose your major until you are a senior.

Follow this action plan and you too can be the proud owner of a $30,000 piece of paper.


Monkey Forrest

Five years ago Jared and I were heading out on our 2 week honeymoon. Jared refused to tell me where we were going and only told me to pack a lot a swim suits and hiking boots.

After a 14 hour flight on our layover in Taipei, Taiwan Jared finally told me where he was kidnapping me. 6 more hours on a small plane and we would be in Bali, Indonesia. Awesome.

Memorable times included

  • Five dollar - hour long massages.
  • Scuba Diving a shipwreck.
  • FOOD, some of the best food ever and all extremely cheap.
  • $18 a night bungalows right on the beach. 

  • Doing IT.
  • Almost getting ripped off by a gang of small Indonesian men.
  • Teenage boys thinking I was some famous person while freaking out and making Jared take pictures of them with me.
  • Outdoor Showers.
  • Coincidentally meeting some family friends and having dinner at their traditional Balinese compound.
  • Being with my new husband for 24 hours a day in paradise.

But one of the best memories....

The Monkey Forrest.

Crazy monkeys everywhere who stole stuff out of peoples purses. The only way the tourists could get their stuff back was by trading bananas with the monkeys. For real.

Plus, look at their hairy balls.