It’s a toast to those who rock!

I know you guys have been waiting for this day for a long time. And now the time has come … for you to see me drum. Before you judge, just remember I only had a few short months of lessons.

These videos are from our company barbecue we had in our parking lot. Not that more people didn’t want to hear us jam, we just decided to keep it exclusive …

Set List:
Seven Nation Army – White Stripes (that last minute is just company banter, so you can skip it if you’re only interested in being totally extreme)
Happy Day – Jeff Grover
The One On One Song – Jeff Grover

My dear friend Brittany is currently living in Japan. Because of this, I am blessed with periodic care packages full of all kinds of gems from The Orient.

Some of them are delicious – little chocolate koala bears, chocolate tree stumps, or chocolate eggs with Super Mario figurines inside (best day of my life).

Some are not so delicious – the “Every Burger” which is a mini hamburger consisting of a chocolate “patty” and two mini crispy buns complete with sesame seeds and soy sauce. Or perhaps you would enjoy a Kit Kat bar but instead of chocolate, it is covered with a carrot and apple flavored substance. Delish, right?

While I regret that I can’t share these treats with you, I will share some words of wisdom found on quality Japanese stationery:

First, a British Bistro Bear cup -
Bistro Bear is a gentleman
in the best English tradition.
He is bright, sophisticated
and very gallant.
Ladies enjoy his conversation either.

How true that is. In case your can’t read the lines below “with my favorite goods” it says:

“A truly fashionable person enjoys simplicity and functionality. We are sure you will enjoy, too.”

“Is preparing the sewing set
What shall I make today?
I am unexpectedly good at the needlework thing.”

And my very favorite:

Orange Balloon: “Pig and Balloon
If only time still would stand”
Blue Balloon: “The more free time I have, the more I tend to think of bad things.”

Hahaha … so honest.

Friday, April 2 – The Last Day at My Law Firm Job

I had been done with this job since the first day I had it. Luckily I got through the days with my BFF John. Our twinhood kept both of us sane through incredibly mind-numbing, tedious work. But alas, my last day came and it was wonderful. I went out to lunch with my peeps, had a little pre-birthday party at the office then cleaned out my desk. It was sad to leave friends, but I was excited to start something new.

Saturday, April 3 – Sing in Gen Con

My sister, Kif, and I had the honor of singing the Saturday afternoon session of conference. It was so cool to sit in the choir loft and “inspire the world” – our choir directors said this probably 17,384 times during our months of practicing. Sure, Kif and I were on screen for appx. 3 seconds in the very top right corner but we definitely sang every song like champs! I highly recommend singing in Gen Con.

Sunday, April 4 – Easter

I’ve decided I love it when General Conference lands on Easter. Jenn and Josh were gracious enough to let me spend it with them. I’m not sure what else to say. It was just a good day.

Monday, April 5 – Birthday, First Day of New Work, and MUSE!!!

Welp, I got a job everyone – if you didn’t get that from the first paragraph. It was a long process (first interview was Dec 1, 2009) but it finally happened. I now work at One On One Marketing in American Fork. It’s pretty much perfect. I work with great people and get to write and think about marketing all the daylong. My first day consisted of me filling out paperwork then a little training and I left at noon for my half day of paid work off for my birthday. Pretty sweet deal. Then off to …..

MUSE!!!!!! This was the most insanely good concert I have ever been to in my life. I’m not sure I can adequately express what I experienced that night with some of my closest friends. If you’d like a more detailed description, I would be more than happy to tell you about it in person so I can fully express the love in my heart. ☺

It’s been established that my thought on numbers are weird, so I am going to add to it. Not only do I confuse them with letters sometimes but I also assign personalities and genders to numbers. For example: 9 is a boy and a jerk, 2 is a girl and is shy. I could go on, but I won’t.

As I approach a birthday, I keep thinking about what my current and future ages mean to me. 23 means you’re a legitimate person. You’re probably done with school and you should know what’s up … for the most part.

25 means you’re a real adult. Before then, you’re just faking it.

24 means you’re OLD. Mind you, 25 doesn’t mean old. Somehow you surpass adulthood and go straight to geriatric status. But then a year later, you’re young and alive yet again. If you want me to explain this to you, I can’t. It’s just what I feel in my bones.

Soon I’ll be turning old – on Museday, as a matter of fact. So if you’re wondering why I’m suffering from sarcopenia and my posture isn’t what it used to be, you’ll know it’s because I turned 24.

I have a problem. It makes zero sense. I don’t know why I’m compelled to share this, but I think we’re close enough now that I can trust you with this information. Here it is: I mix up R’s and 9’s. Yep, you got it.

I know people who mix up colors, perhaps orange and green – Jess. But mixing up a number and a letter, who does that? I do.

You can imagine it becomes difficult giving people confirmation codes and the like. “My number is 265-R670.” “I spell my name C-A-9-I.” Ridiculous.

I was trying to pay a bill the other day and you better believe the girl on the other end of the phone had no idea what I was talking about. Upon repeating the confirmation code, I realized my error and was reminded of my bizarre thought process.

The thing is, they don’t even sound the same. I could maybe understand 3 and B or 5 and cantaloupe. Nine and Arrr; that’s just silly!

In case I make this mistake in your presence, please forgive me.

What a way to make a living!

I was sitting at work today, tired – as always. I was listening to my favorite podcast “Stuff You Should Know” from HowStuffWorks.com. Sidenote: Josh and Chuch, you’re the best!

I decide to close my eyes for just a second. I’m still listening to the podcast, aware of what’s going on around me, and I start dreaming. I’m not asleep, mind you. The weirder thing is that it was a continuation of a dream I had a couple weeks ago that I had totally forgotten about.

The only thing that got me out of the weirdi trance was my ringing phone.

My first thought was that I was having a lucid dream. The only problem was that I wasn’t in REM sleep. What the weird was that all about?! And I should have been dreaming about how to steal a nuclear bomb – the topic of the podcast – but no, it was just some random dream I already had.

Any thoughts?

The first day I had the Sweet Machine after the months of repair, I was stoked to say the least. She was truly a sweet machine and I loved her. I drove her to work with great pride.

I drove her to work without a hitch. After work, I hopped in with full confidence. Everything seemed normal, except for some reason University Avenue seemed so bumpy that day. And the weird thing was, it kept getting bumpier. With each stop, it got worse and worse. “Why is this street so bumpy today?” I asked myself repeatedly.

The best way to describe the feeling in the car is that only the front left quadrant of the car was going over terrain consisting of consecutively placed speed bumps and pot holes.

After sweating bullets, I miraculously made it to Jenn and Josh’s. When I got out of the car, the front driver’s side tire was at a 60-degree angle in relation to the ground.

When Josh came out to look at the car, he said, “Yeah, there are no bolts holding that tire on. There were only two when we got it and I broke one. I made sure that last one was on real tight, though. But that broke, too.”

These are the kinds of things I would’ve liked to have known before I risked my life getting into the car.

And yet I decided to risk my life yet again as Josh and I drove to Les Schwab. Josh drove behind me with his hazard lights on because mine, of course, didn’t work. Legal? Maybe not.

We got us some new bolts tightened to the right specs and The Sweet Machine and I were on our way again.

I was thinking about The Sweet Machine the other day. I feel like people who never got to know The Sweet Machine, don’t really know me. The Sweet Machine was a significant part of my life and I’d like to share a little bit about her.

She was a red ‘88 Acura Integra. The word you’re looking for is sexy. I bought her for a cool $300 when I moved to Utah. It was the best investment I ever made. Well, investment probably isn’t the best word considering the hundreds, perhaps thousands, of dollars and hours put into making her run. But I cherished every second.

Let me tell you how The Sweet Machine got her name:

When I bought The Sweet Machine, she didn’t run. Most people might see this as a problem, but I merely saw it as an opportunity to make her awesome. I left that part to Josh.

She lived at Jenn and Josh’s for a couple months while Josh would slave over her on Saturdays. Every time I would call to check on her progress, Josh would say, “It’s gonna be a sweet machine.” And the name was born.

There was always a huge list of things that were wrong with her, some “more fatal than others” (I’m just going to see how many posts I can use that quote in). But Josh’s reaction to most of those problems was, “Yeah, I’m not going to fix that. Care, you don’t really need shocks/headlights/hazard lights/wheels.”

There’s something about having no assurance that you drive anywhere safely – or actually arrive at your destination – that makes you feel alive!

Let the adventures begin!

I’m in a very dangerous line of work. I work with paper. Yeah, you heard me right.

If you’re picturing horrendous paper cuts, you’re partly right but that’s not what keeps me up at night. While, I must admit, I’ve had some pretty good ones; some “more fatal than others.”

But what I’d really like to address is the unidentified fluids that stain many of the papers I handle daily. A little background: I work at a disability law firm where people send in their Social Security paperwork and we file their claims for them. So you have to understand that these people have some pretty serious diseases and I am handling their fluid-stained paperwork.

We often try to guess what fluid we’re dealing with. Coffee? Lemonade? Who knows? But today, there was no question. There were full on drops of blood on this paper. My first thoughts were, “What is wrong with this person, how is their condition transmitted and do I now have the hiv?”

But even more treacherous, a few weeks ago I was handling the papers as always; throwing them to and fro. When suddenly I passed one a little too close to my face and my mouth was open just enough. I totally licked the piece of paper. The freaking out commenced. So now when I tell you I have the hiv, you know of two different instances where I could have contracted it. And I just want to say, I love you all.

I must warn you, this story is not for the faint of heart. I was just telling this story to Jenn the other night and I remembered terrifying it was. And I though to myself, “Something this horrifying should be shared with the blogosphere.”

It was back in the day when I was living in New York. The BYU students were a couple blocks out of Harlem in Columbia’s dorms. I was on the eighth floor on the side facing away from Riverside Park.

It was a normal night. I went to bed in my closet of a room and fell asleep. I was woken up at about 4 a.m. to the most horrifying sound in the world. (Sidenote: If you know anything about me, you know I am a professional sleeper and don’t wake up for anything.) The sound I heard can only be described as a man getting hit it the knees with an aluminum bat, his body falling to the ground and then blood curdling screaming and yelling.

I have never been so scared in my life. I was on the eighth floor but I was sure whoever hit that dude with a bat was going to come upstairs and kill me. Luckily we had crazy security in our building. The screaming went on for a few minutes but it felt like forever.

Eventually the screaming stopped. So either the guy passed out from pain or left somehow.

The next morning I found out that it happened on the opposite side of the building from me on the edge of Riverside Park. Yet it sounded like the guy was screaming in my ear.

If you thought the fear stopped there, you’re dead wrong. The next night, my friend Mike and I were watching House in his room as we did every night. We looked out his window overlooking Riverside Park and there were tons of police cars with their lights on. Then there were all these cops looking all through the park with flashlights.

We still have no idea what they were looking for. But considering the surrounding happenings, I’m going to go with body parts. Gew. :/

But in the words of John Candy, “We can laugh about it now. We’re all right.”