The Banana Problem

Let me start this out by telling you that I very much enjoy bananas. They are nutritious and tasty and especially good on a peanut butter sandwich. They are the best thing to eat before and after rigorous exercise. Por ejemplo, if I feel tired before I go for a run, I'll eat half a banana. Then if I feel like I pushed myself too hard after a run, I'll eat another half a banana. I also love me some bananas in my lunch, baked into bread, in desserts (ever had IHOP's crispy banana caramel cheesecake? AHmazing), on top of waffles or pancakes, or just for a snack. Bananas are great!

But they come with a very real problem: they stink. I mean, I'm all about the banana smell when I've got a loaf in the oven or something, but beyond that I'd rather smell other things like grapefruit dish soap or our apple-cinnamon candle. But if we get bananas, they overtake all of those other smells. Seriously, of all the fruits there are (or that regularly find themselves in our apartment) bananas get the most pervasive smell award.

I packed a banana in my lunch today. It was a reasonably fresh banana. Just purchased yesterday. Still a little green, which is my favorite way to eat bananas plain. I figured the banana stink wouldn't come until they were at least a little brown and mushy. But then I opened my lunch bag so that I could enjoy my yogurt during class this morning. And I got a faceful of banana stench and realized how very wrong I was.

I especially hate eating bananas at work. For some reason banana peels get all the more stinky when the fruit is removed. And my desk trash can sits a mere two feet from my desk. So if I eat a banana, it smells bad for my whole shift. (I won't even get into the day custodial forgot to empty my trashcan and I had day-old banana stink.)

Oh well. Sure the odor is annoying, but I'm not going to stop eating them. In fact, I think I'll eat my lunch banana right now. And I'm going to enjoy every last bite, darn it!

(Actually, I think I'll wait for an hour so I can throw the peel away right before I leave work)

Touche, Mary Anne. Touche.

On Monday morning, I was rudely awaken at 9:02 by a phone call for Mary Anne Miller. This would be the start of roughly half a dozen phone calls, all for Miss Mary Anne (actually, during the course of the first phone call, I received a second call, but that was just a recorded message. I thought that was weird, but I didn't realize until later that the recorded message was also for Mary Anne). I finally asked one of the callers where he had gotten this number, and he informed me that Miss Mary Anne had filled out a form requesting information on health insurance and apparently she put down the wrong number on the form. Apparently.

The Mary Anne Miller calls have been problematic for several reasons:

1. I was still asleep at 9:02 am on Monday morning. It was a holiday and although I did not mean to sleep in that late (9:02 became 10:31 suspiciously quickly), I did anyway and a wrong number phone calls is not a desirable way to be woken up on a day off. Or two wrong number phone calls for that matter (I'm glad the second one was a recording because I just yelled "NO" into the phone and hung it up. Hmm, I hope it really was a recording).

2. I don't get very many phone calls and tend to get quite excited when a phone call does present itself and having them all be wrong numbers is rather disheartening.

Okay, I just have two problematic reasons, but they are extensive!

This whole Mary Anne Miller situation has given me pause to consider how it happened that Miss Miller put my phone number on her insurance information form. Here are some possible solutions:

1. Our numbers are just a digit off and she accidentally typed in a 3 instead of a 2.

2. She filled out the form by hand and her 4s look like 9s.

3. There was an incentive for filling out a form, but she didn't want to be hassled by insurance salespeople, so she put down a fake number.

4. Mary Anne Miller is actually an ex-boyfriend of mine or some acquaintance that I've wronged in some way and s/he is enacting some twisted revenge plot by cruelly siccing insurance salespeople on me. If that's the case, then the jokes on shim! All the callers have been very polite once I tell them I am not who they intended to talk to. Except for the recording I yelled at.

In any case, the calls have stopped so maybe word got out that I am not Mary Anne Miller. Good thing, too, because I was about to track down Miss Miller myself so I could give the callers her correct number. Although maybe she is in desperate need of health insurance and will now die because the callers are calling me instead of calling her. Goodness, I hope not.

The Disney Problem... And Solution!

We're planning a trip to Disneyland for this coming October. Yes, another one. This time though, we are hoping to go with all of Lewis' family. Should be fun!

Saturday last, as we were all gathered at the casa de los Youngs (as opposed to the apartamento de los otros Youngs) (where I live), we were discussing details of the trip. Sammie, my delightful niece, mentioned how lame the Peter Pan ride was. She described how boring it was to just go up like a foot and ride around for a minute or two and then go back down. No fun at all.

As she was describing this, I just stared at her with a look of shock and awe on my face. I couldn't believe that anyone would think the Peter Pan ride as "lame" or "boring" or "stupid." So I told her she had no sense of nostalgia.

And that's when it hit me. She probably doesn't have any nostalgia towards that movie! Me, I grew up on that movie and other movies like it. That's why I love Peter Pan's Flight and Snow White's Scary Adventure and Pinocchio's Daring Journey. They're not thrill rides, they are rides about movies. Movies that I have loved since I was a wee one. That's what Disneyland is all about. Sure, you do have thrill rides like Indiana Jones or Space Mountain or most everything over in California Adventure. But Disney is not just about thrills. They create an attention to detail experience with the characters that the world adores.

But for how long? How long will love for movies like Snow White or Peter Pan be enough? We live in a world where many of the young people have not even had the chance to see these beloved films. The advent of DVDs are partially to blame for this; families who own VHS copies of the movies rarely pull them for their kids. VCRs are obsolete! True, you can find many Disney Animated Features on DVD, but only once every seven to ten years when they come out of the Disney vault. But will that even be a viable marketing campaign in the future when primary DVD purchasers haven't seen the movies in the first place?

To prevent this (love for cherished characters dying off due to lack of movie viewership) from happening, the Imagineers at Disneyland have (possibly inadvertently) developed some solutions. One is to replace old rides/attractions with updates from more recent films. Case in point, the Swiss Family Treehouse was replaced by Tarzan's Treehouse in 1999. But that practice makes a part of me really sad. I mean, it's good to make updates and to continue to expand and whatever. I'm all for brand new rides and replacing stuff that was no good in the first place. But where is the line? How far can that be taken? Will Snow White be replaced by an attraction from a more recent movie? Can you replace Snow White? Is that what Walt Disney would have wanted? I don't know about you, but I would not want a cryogenically frozen Walter Elias Disney after my neck. You've been warned, Imagineers.

I'm getting carried away. There is still an abundance of classic Disney in Disneyland and there are no current plans to alter that.

A second solution would be to create more rides from interesting characters/stories developed specifically for the park. Sometimes the movie comes later like with Pirates of the Caribbean and the Haunted Mansion, but the rides were still there first. I am okay with this as it gives Disneyland a personal stake in people's nostalgia. They have nostalgia for the rides alone, and not necessarily in concert with a movie attached to them. Which definitely makes me keep going back for more!

Neither solution is perfect of course. For example, instead of replacing the old with the new, why doesn't Disneyland just keep adding rides? I don't think anyone would complain about a bigger Disneyland. And if you do, you have no heart. Or soul.

The fact of the matter is today's generation of youths is missing out on a series of classic movies that their parents, aunts, uncles, and grandparents grew up on. So here's what I think Disney should do. A few months before they release their movies from that mysterious vault they're always talking about, they should also play them in movie theaters around the country for a limited engagement. That way, parents can take their kids to see for themselves the magic of these animated features, and understand why Peter Pan's Flight really is a great ride. Plus the rest of us would have an excuse to go see the movies from our childhood that we haven't seen since. Disney can do this. They've done it before! I know because my parents wouldn't let me go see Jurassic Park with my older siblings when it was first in theaters and they took me to Snow White instead.

The cynic in me says that this quest would be futile. Most children would probably go into the movies with sky-high expectations and would come out saying it was "lame" or "boring" or "stupid." Psh. Kids these days!

Saturday, January 16th, 2010

7:00 am - wake up, realize that you've only been asleep for six hours and for heaven's sake it's Saturday, go back to sleep.

10:00 - 11:00 am - wake up again, curse yourself for not setting an alarm, take shower, get dressed.

11:15 - 11:45 am - pick up some donuts for breakfast, arrive at mechanic, ask how long an oil change and safety and emissions test will take, thank goodness they say only an hour and a half because you've got places to be, hand over key, walk over to Tanner Building.

12:00 - 1:30 pm - eat donuts, study, study, study, discuss deep findings in education, study some more, wonder why the mechanic hasn't called yet.

1:45 - 3:00 pm - walk back to mechanic, see car in the process of its oil change, believe it's almost done, sit down in mechanic lobby, study some more, read some magazines, start to get antsy about the prospects of the car getting done any time soon, see mechanic drive car over to parking spot, pray that car is almost done because you were planning on being in Park City by now, see woman pull up in her own car, walk over to your car, knock on your car's window, then see mechanic get out of your car and go help entitled woman for 20 more minutes, ask mechanic manager if your car is almost done, see manager tell other mechanic that the owner of the 4runner is here and can see everything you're doing, watch mechanic say a swear, get a discount from the manager for your patience, plus a lame excuse about how social mechanic is, finally get car back.

3:15 - 4:15 pm - go home, pack, leave for Park City, complain about lack of professionalism from mechanic, give thanks for discount, resolve to still go to that mechanic because they are so convenient and actually do good work, albeit slow, but not ever again when you're in a hurry.

The Fourth Day of Christmas

On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...

4 calling phones

3 final tests

2 Praxis scores

And a mid-Atlantic winter snow storm

As far as cellular service is concerned, I've been with T-Mobile for five years now. And it has been adequate. I've had my share of faulty phones replaced, but who hasn't? Well, my contract with them expired last week. Lewis and I were planning on having me pay month to month until April when his contract expired and then join AT&T together so we can (eventually) get iPhones. But then circumstances facilitated the need to save as much money as possible, so we decided that the best thing to do would be for me to join the cellular telephone plan belonging to Lewis and his mother when my contract was up (they're with Verizon).

As a bonus, Verizon said it was time to let Lewis upgrade with a new agreement, so we could get it so our time in their hands expires together.

So today, we headed over to our neighborhood Verizon Wireless store to check out the phones. While there, I narrowed my selection down to these four:

1. The Samsung Intensity

Lewis and I actually walked into the store with the plan to each get this phone. It's a pretty basic phone, no special bells and whistles (which is all we really need). It has a slide out qwerty keyboard, which is cool. However, as we discovered when we got the chance to actually hold it rather than just look at a picture online, it feels flimsy and like it will break with one fall. And if you know me, I have a bad habit of either dropping my phone on accident or throwing it across the room when I'm angry. Although I don't do that as often as I used to.

Plus it was hard to type on the keys at the top of the keyboard.

2. The HTC Driod Eris

We spent a lot of time looking at this phone. It's what Verizon wishes was the iPhone. It's a touch screen with lots of applications (or "apps" as the kids call them). Overall, it's a pretty sweet phone. However, it's a smartphone, which adds 30 bucks a pop onto our bill, and that just didn't seem too practical considering the whole point of this is to save money. And the good graces of Lewis' mom. So that was a no.

3. The Samsung Alias 2

I looked at this one mostly just because I found it to be intriguing. If you open it like a regular flip phone, the keys are one way, but if you open it on its side, the keys change. And then they change again if you want to send a text. It's pretty neat. (And if none of that made sense, just watch the video from the link). In the end, though, I decided that the changing keys were just too confusing. Cool idea, but meh.

4. The LG enV3

This one was our winner. Lewis has an enV right now, which he admitted is a quality phone in spite of the fact that it likes to shut itself off randomly and without notice. As far as design is concerned, the enV3 seems to be a good improvement from the original enV, so that's good.

The only trouble now is how we are going to tell our phones apart. We both picked the phone in slate blue because the other option was red and well, you know... red. Blech.

So that's that. Actually, we ended up stressing ourselves out about the lack of desirable phones while we were actually at the store, so we ended up going home and just ordering our phones over the phone, interestingly enough (I'm convinced that the reason we didn't just end up getting the enV3 in the store is because the one they had on display was of the red variety. That and the fact that you had to mail in a rebate to get the upgrade discount at the store whereas it's instant online or over the phone). They will be here on Friday. Which is great news for me especially because I haven't been texting since October, so basically my phone has not been used much at all. I realized that I don't get very many calls. But that's okay. It's been a busy few months at school, so the lack of cell phone usage is probably a very good thing.

Happy fourth day, everyone!

I Think I'm a Mac... Trapped in a PC's Body

Know what's annoying? The fact that I am clearly and indisputably connected to the internet, yet my computer thinks I'm not. Yeah, thanks a lot, Vista, now I can't finish my technology homework. Effing technology.

I Never Knew I Used My Middle Finger So Much...

... Until I couldn't use it anymore.

Okay, that's not entirely true. I can use it. It just hurts.

You see, I jammed it yesterday in PE (that's right, I'm taking a PE class). In truth, I should have seen it coming. We were playing basketball, and I always hurt at least one finger playing basketball (that's not an exaggeration). I hit the ball funny while I was stealing it from someone else in the course of a game, said "Frick" because it hurt, and wondered if my "Frick" sounded like another yet more vulgar expletive that starts with the letter F based on the look on the face of the girl from whom I stole the ball. Anyway, it swelled up all day yesterday until it was a great big fatty fat fat with some gross looking coloration.

I figured it was no big deal, it's just the middle finger, and on my left hand no less! The only real function my left hand has is for eating, and I can use my right hand for that no problem.

That's when I remembered the fact that I am an avid laptop in that I use it to take all my notes at school. And that's when I discovered how very much involved the middle finger on my left hand is in the typing process. Taping and/or splinting the finger was suddenly out of the question (tried it... didn't work and I had a paper to type).

So, yeah, it hurts when I type. I'm sure you are all now wondering why on earth I am bothering to blog at this time if I am in such pain. Well, why don't I tell you?

You.

It's all for you, my dear readers. Because I know you're out there. I do. I have Google Analytics.

To be honest, it's not actually that bad. Typing my paper yesterday sucked, it's true, but my finger is lots better today. It's still a great big fatty fat fat and it still doesn't bend all the way, but it doesn't hurt nearly as much. Just when I bend it or straighten it all the way. Plus, most of the gross coloration has cleared up. No biggie, yo.

I think it would have been funny if the ring finger on my left hand got hurt instead of the middle. Then maybe I would get my wedding ring stuck on it, and it would look all unattractive and weird. I don't know why that idea amuses me, but there you go. It would be a yin-yang of aesthetics with a pretty ring on a elephantine finger. El oh freaking el.

Here's what my finger looks like right now. I think the best part is that it's only the middle knuckle that's swollen, so the whole finger looks kind of like a large body with a really small head. You know the type.
The other side where only a small semblance of the gross coloration remains.

Tents for Tables

One of the less fun and more gross aspects of my job is my responsibility over the advertising that goes on the tables in the terrace of the Wilkinson Student Center. The advertising is in the form of clear plastic table tents that can hold up to six fliers at a time.

You're probably thinking, "That doesn't sound gross, Alyssa. You're just a baby." But, no. Believe me. It's gross.

You see, during the day, the terrace is used as an extension of the Cougareat, BYU's food court. People come to the terrace, sit down at tables and enjoy greasy burritos from Taco Bell or messy sandwiches from Subway. As they eat, they can enjoy the various advertisements in my table tents. And they can touch my table tents with their oily and sticky fingers. And spill nasty orange, brown, or blue drinks all over my table tents. And stick their nasty rubbish inside my table tents. And sometimes break my table tents.

I've been working at this job for three years now (almost exactly). When I started, I had between 60 and 70 table tents. 50 can go in the terrace at any given time. Now, three years later, I'm down to 19. A bit pathetic, right?

I don't have an explanation for the disappearance of all my table tents. I do know that several have broken, but not 51 of them. My only theory is thievery. People (freshmen, likely) have thieved my table tents. Why? Beats me. I just explained that they are gross.

A typical Friday for me consists of the following.
1. Search for a cart.
2. Take the cart to the terrace.
3. Track down all the table tents.
4. Load the table tents on to the cart.
5. Bring the table tents back to my desk.
6. Remove all the trash from the table tents (I've seen everything, from twist ties to lolly pop sticks)
7. Remove all the unauthorized fliers from the table tents.
8. Remove all the outdated fliers from the table tents.
9. Put in the new fliers from the table tents.
10. Soak my hands in sanitizer.
11. (Only if I'm particularly annoyed) track down the person/group who stuck unauthorized fliers in the table tents and tell them they can't do that and if they would like to advertise in the table tents, they must schedule them with me.

Sometimes I genuinely dread table tent time on Friday. And by sometimes, I mean always. They are just so, so gross.

But now - oh now! - it's all changed. At least for a few weeks. You see, I just received a shipment of brand new, crystal clean table tents. Finally, all the tables in the terrace will once again have a tent. I'm actually kind of excited to go pick up the table tents tomorrow evening (the terrace closes on Tuesdays for Club Night) so I can add the new ones to the rotation.

The sad truth of the matter is, I halfway don't even want to put these new table tents out. I know exactly what is going to happen to them out there. It's a crazy and gross place. And these ones are so pretty and so clean.

Ah, well. I still have my trusty, jumbo-sized bottle of hand sanitizer.

The Anti-Tag

Name 5 things you hate:
-Water chestnuts
-Asylum Films. They're not even so bad they're funny. They're just bad.
-Mosquitoes
-Hatred
-Charlie horses

Name 5 pet peeves
-When people take forever filling up their water bottles in the tall water fountains. Especially when there's a line and the people in front of you refuse to use the short water fountains and you'd feel weird if you cut in line to use the short one but you're really thirsty.
-When people touch/put things on my desk. Dude.
-The faces Megan Fox makes in every picture ever taken of her. What's with the mouth hanging open thing? Is that supposed to be sexy? Hows about a smile, once in a while?
-Pedestrians who don't pay attention
-Drivers who don't pay attention

Name 5 names that you once considered for your future children, but that have now been ruined for you
-Isabelle
-Jeremy
-Charles
-Jared
-Jeffery

Name 5 things you never considered studying
-Physics
-Accounting
-Chemistry
-Political Science
-English

Name 5 things that give you the willies
-Chalk
-Chalkboards
-Fingernails on a chalkboard
-Mannequins - especially the ones in the Old Navy commercials
-Meal worms

Now, I tag....... no one. Especially not you.

Headphones

Dear girl sitting at the table across from me,

You don't bug me, but if I can clearly make out the lyrics to the song you are listening to on your iPod from all the way over here, you might want to reconsider the volume you've selected. Seriously.

Honestly, we'd all win if you did that. No one in this room would be subjected to your annoying teenybopper cheese fest anymore and you would save yourself from going deaf in the next five years. And I'd have one less thing to complain about!

Win-win-win.

Thanks. You're a pal.

-Alyssa

New Year's Resolutions

SO! The new school year has begun. Campus is especially full this week as everyone buys their textbooks, participates in Welcome Week events, and figures out which classes it's okay to skip the rest of the semester. The Wilkinson Student Center (where I am gainfully employed) is particularly full as it is something of a central hub for campus. The Bookstore, Cougareat, and BYUSA office are just some of the many things found in this building, all of which seem to attract an abnormally large amount of students this time of year - especially those bright-eyed and bushy-tailed younglings we all know as freshmen.

With the new school year comes new year's resolutions, the evidence of which can be found all over campus. The past two mornings as we've walked to school, Lewis and I saw dozens of joggers out. Normally we see maybe four or five, but dozens?! Similarly, the Bookstore sold out of salads in record time yesterday, leaving only pizza and fresh baked cookies for those who came seeking lunch later in the day (darn it!). Clearly, there are many who have resolved to live healthier lifestyles this year.

Likewise, I am sure there are many students who've resolved to study harder this year to get even better grades. Have you ever noticed when you purchase a used textbook that the first few chapters are diligently highlighted and marked up, but there is nary a tick mark on the last few chapters? Yeah. That's a harder resolution to keep.

Today, as I was running the gauntlet this afternoon through what is known as the third floor of the Bookstore (textbooks and computer) on my way to work, I found myself getting annoyed. How dare all these people be in my way! Why can't they spend hundreds of dollars on pricey texts and fancy electronics when I am not headed to my office?

Similarly, I found myself inwardly groaning during my first class yesterday. I just started my first semester cohort in the elementary education program. As you may be aware, the elementary education program consists of mostly girls. As in, it's an anomaly to have even one boy in a class. This is particularly problematic for me as I don't get along with girls as well as I probably should seeing as I am, you know, a girl. They tend to bug me with their fashion accessories and their voluminous hair and their general perkiness. Especially at 8 o'clock in the morning. Gosh!

And then I realized... It's easy to be bugged by freshmen boys who stop dead right outside a high-traffic door to put something in their book bag or peeved at the girl who giggles rather shrilly at a lame joke the teacher tells to grab everyone's attention. It's really, really easy. But what's the point? It just makes life harder for me. It's not like they know they're doing anything wrong, even if I do occasionally shoot them a dirty look (I don't).

So I decided to take a leaf out of my jogging and salad-eating and study harding peers. I would make a new year's resolution for myself! Here it is, all official-like:

I, Alyssa Lucille Young, resolve to stop being bugged by the people around me.

Whew.

I once had a religion teacher who told us that a good way to live more like Christ is to say in your head about every person you meet, "I love you." Now, I don't think I'm quite up to that level of appreciation for the people around me, but I think "You don't bug me" is a nice start.

Don't worry, dear readers. Whether you like it or not, I will be updating you on the successfulness of this resolution. Unless I forget.

I Spoke Too Soon

It looks like I jumped to conclusions. Yesterday we checked our bank statement and discovered that $87 had been taken out of our account from the Long Beach Yellow Cab Company. Where the number 87 came from is beyond me. Alls I know is that I am beyond angry about it. Frankly, I'm appalled at how dishonest that little twerp of a taxi driver is. Appalled!

Lewis is working with the bank and the cab company so we can get our money back. Hopefully it'll all work out. Cause for reals, yo. I'm really, really mad.

In other news, we figured out what that mysterious seven dollar charge was, that I had previously attributed to the taxi ride. We got a locker for our stuff on our first day at Disneyland and I didn't write down the charge because I was just keeping track of our food budget. My bad! It was a great moment when I solved the mystery of the seven dollar charge, though. I was ready to run out of the shower, soaking wet and with my hair all shampoo-y to tell Lewis because I was so excited. But then I listened to the reasonable side of my brain.

But seriously! What a jerk of a cab driver. He may have made me lose my hope in humanity for his dishonesty. Okay, not really, but still. I hate to say this but I kind of hope he loses his job over this. Maybe I didn't mean that. Maybe I did, but I would feel a little, tiny bit guilty if that actually happens. More'n likely we'll just be out the money he charged us. For now, I'm just sending bad karma vibes his way. Or angry thoughts anyway. Gosh!

Oh Zicam, How I Loathe Thee

As I'm sure you all know, because we've been talking about it for nine months or so, we're going to Disneyland. Like, tomorrow. Well, okay, not until Monday, but still. Really soon. And we're really, really, really excited about it. Really. We've got everything planned out and we even purchased a cool little program to help us maximize our Disneyland experience (details on that program are forthcoming, after we decide if it was worth the $15 or not).

So, naturally, when Lewis started feeling sick the other day, we got a little worried - how would a cold effect our Disneyland experience? We have literally been planning this trip since we got home from our honeymoon. It had better be the bomb-diggity.

Nevertheless, Lewis was sick. Not so sick that he couldn't do anything, but sick enough that he was somewhat miserable. And what's the best way to get rid of a cold? Self-medicating, of course!

Lewis had heard some good things about Zicam, and how it's supposed to minimize symptoms and help you get over colds quicker. When Lewis told me he was going to purchase some, and that I should take some too, just in case, I was all for it. No problem, I thought. I can swallow a pill and be a-okay.

Well, apparently, Zicam doesn't come in pill form. No, no. Zicam comes in the form of nasty strawberry hate chews.

Seriously, those things are gross. They look all innocent and Starburst-like. They even don't smell half bad. You know how sometimes cough syrup smells like wintergreen but then tastes like death? That's what Zicam cold remedy chews are like.

You put one in your mouth and start chewing. The first couple chews are okay, it tastes like a cheap Starburst substitute, that some people give out on Halloween because they didn't buy candy until the last minute and that's all that was left. But then you have to keep chewing. And that's when the gag reflex kicks in, because no one in their right mind would want to swallow the taste that has now overwhelmed their mouth. If people made chalk into a chewy candy, I imagine it would taste like this. Or, if you have ever held a pill like Tylenol on your tongue for a bit before swallowing it, it tastes like this. Except worse. Oh, so much worse. Because Zicam is chewy, it's little chewy nastiness get stuck in your teeth. And lots of saliva is produced that you can't just spit out, no. You have to swallow. And all the while, you have an overwhelming desire to spit the whole lot in the toilet.

The first time you take a Zicam, you think you can now guzzle down a whole pitcher of water to expunge the wretched taste from your palate. But then your husband tells you that you're not allowed to eat or drink anything for fifteen minutes after finishing the chew. And that makes you want to punch Zicam in its little orange face for punishing you further. Why can't you eat or drink anything for fifteen minutes, you ask? Because Zicam is sadistic and hates you.

On their website, Zicam describes this product as a "Cold Remedy Chewable that comes in a delicious strawberry flavor chewable square and shortens the length and severity of the cold." Now, if it truly does that (shortens the length and severity of the cold) and we can have the wicked awesome Disneyland trip we've been saving for for so long, I won't say another word against it. But if it turns out that all this taste bud suffering was for naught, it'll be time to lay the smack down on Zicam. I'm thinking toasting the chews over a fire and then squishing them in the dirt will be sufficient.

The Tale of the Defrosted Food

Recently, my life has been pretty boring during the day. Summer classes have ended so I spend eight or nine hours at my desk every day just, you know, doing my job. It's good times, but it can get a bit tedious after a while. Basically, I just spend my time counting down until it's time to go home and the excitement can begin. Or whatever.

Usually "the excitement" is a positive thing. Like taking a hike or going out to dinner. Those are positive things we have done in the past when I get off work. But yesterday, "the excitement" was very, very negative. Oh my, was it ever!

First, some background. The last time we went shopping, we got a big, val-u pak of Hot Pockets. We stuck the box in the bottom of our freezer, with the opening out, for easy access to the sandwichy goodness. I have been taking the Hot Pockets with me to work every day, to enjoy for my lunch. Yesterday, I took the last Hot Pocket in the box and, feeling it unwise to leave an empty box in the freezer (why does cardboard need to be frozen?) I took the box out and put it in the trash. Please remember that I said we had placed the box in the bottom of our freezer.

Nine hours later, I have ten minutes left before I get off work and I get a call from Lewis. "Did you get something out of the freezer this morning?" he asks. "Yes..." I say. "Why?"

As it turns out, when I shut the freezer, it didn't close as tightly as it should have. And since I had pulled a big box out of the bottom, the other contents of the freezer had shifted around a bit, and a carton of ice cream had tumbled to the front, pushing the freezer door open further, and making it stay like that. For nine hours.

Crap.

I get home a little while later, and survey the damage. The good news was, most of our stuff was either frozen enough that it stayed frozen all day (like all of our ground beef, thank goodness) or could be refrozen and be just fine (like our butter and pre-cooked hot wings). But there were a few items we had to throw out (like the solitary creamsicle, sitting in the door) and a few we needed to eat ASAP (like our (luckily) almost-empty bag of chicken and our frozen dinner rolls) (there were twenty rolls left).

Awesome.

First thing first, I got the dinner rolls ready. They are supposed to rise a bit before baking, but I was in a bit of a bind. They normally take three or four hours to rise (it was probably 5:30 by now), but there is a quicker method that takes one and a half hour. However, things were complicated by the fact that the rolls were already defrosted. So I decided to do the quick method, but just keep an eye on the rolls so I knew when they would be ready to bake.

The quick method involves preheating the oven to 200 degrees and placing a pan of boiling water on the bottom rack of the oven. Sounds simple, right? Well, after I poured the boiling water from the pot into the pan, I picked up the pan to put it in the oven and the pan slipped, sending boiling water all over my hand and the dish rack of drying cups. Ouch, ouch, ouch. Miraculously, I escaped the incident with only a few small burns on my hand (which don't even hurt any more), and none of the glasses cracked. However, I was already really ticked off at myself for leaving the freezer door open all day and that combined with my seriously overactive tear glands, I started to cry. Luckily, I have a great husband who just gave me a hug while I sniffled and tried not to laugh at me, which was very nice because I'm sure the whole incident was hilarious to watch.

With Lewis' help, the rolls were placed successfully in the oven, and I turned my attention to the chicken. I got a new cookbook last week (Hershey's Recipe Collection. We're going to get so fat), and I hadn't had the chance to try it
yet, so I pulled it out. There were some recipes for dinners that use cocoa, one of which involved boneless, skinless, chicken breasts (what we had), so voila. However, the recipe also involved some ingredients we didn't have. So, I charged Lewis with the task of keeping an eye on the rolls and off to the store I went!

I decided to just go to the Creamery on 9th, because it's closest and if they didn't have everything I needed, I would just have another excuse to continue in my bad mood. Plus parking there sucks, so that's one more point for bad mood Lyssa. Sho 'nuff, none of their six spots were free so I had to park in the lot across the street. Check one for the mood.

Amazingly, they did have everything I needed and it was all relatively inexpensive, so that actually made me pretty happy (although, if anyone is in need of some cilantro, we've got a ton. It was 50 cents for a bunch, and apparently one "bunch" was their entire stock). I also got some chili powder, tomatoes, garlic, an avocado, and green onions. And then I went home and started cooking.

I began to combine ingredients, but when I got to the chili powder, I noticed that there was no safety seal. The seal had been tampered with. And everyone knows you're not supposed to mess with food that has a tampered with safety seal. It could be poisoned.

Every time I've opened a safety-sealed food container, I've thought about how exciting it would be to purchase a food item with a tampered with safety seal. Maybe a hazmat team'll come swooping in and destroy my safety-sealless food item like they destroy the sock in Monsters, Inc.

But it wasn't exciting. It sucked. I had to go back to the store.

As I was driving home again, I got to thinking. The only thing I had purchased that would have a safety seal in the first place was the chili powder. None of the vegetables were safety sealed. Who's to say they're not poisoned? So far, it would appear that they are not, but I'm sure I'll be eating more vegetables in my life.

Anyway, Lewis and I finished making dinner, and it turned out okay, although I have some changes I will be making to that recipe. Nothing needs a whole tablespoon of salt, I don't care if you are a Hershey's recipe.

The rest of the day was good. We went to Sundance with Lewie's parents and took a full moon ski lift ride. And then, when we got home that night, and I was doing my Google Readering, I came across this article, which reminded me that as stupid of a mistake I made with the freezer that day, at least we didn't get scammed by someone in Nigeria. Also, I've never written anything in my educated life that involved spelling a pluralized last name three different ways (if you take a gander a the article, you'll find that KSL spelled the last name of the family involved "Coxes" "Cox's" and "Coxs'," - all when "Coxes" was correct). Way to go KSL. Thanks for making me feel good about myself and the successfulness of my education. I may say things like "sho 'nuff" and "successfulness" but at least I know how to pluralize a proper noun.

The Non-Prank

For the past couple of weeks, I've woken up in what I've thought was the middle of the night to a soft beeping. It sounded like a watch alarm, but it would end really quickly. At first, I thought I was just imagining it.

But if that was true, I was imagining it every night. That's just silly.

Then, I thought it was the alarm of our next-door neighbors, and I remember thinking, man that sucks that they have to get up at such a whacked-out time.

But then I decided that wasn't really logical. If I can't hear anything else from them, why should I be able to hear their alarm?

Next I thought someone was playing a prank on us. Someone had hidden a watch somewhere in our room and set it to go off at a time when they knew we would be asleep.

But that's not as good of a prank as it could be. I mean, the alarm only goes off for a few seconds, and then it stops. I mean, it goes off for long enough for me to hear it and wake up, but not long enough for me to be annoyed enough to get out of bed and actually go find it to shut it off. I'd go right back to sleep, so it's not like the alarmed ruined my beauty rest. Plus, it only would wake me up, and that's only because I'm a light sleeper. Any heavier sleeper (like Lewis) would sleep right through it. I like to think I associate with more devious mastermind types, the likes of which would have thought this out better. Of course, I suppose the fact that it woke me up every night for so long is actually pretty crafty.

Then, on Tuesday morning, I discovered the actual time the alarm went off. I thought it was the middle of the night, but no, no, no. Lewis had work at 6 AM, so he had gotten up to get ready. Right as he was coming in our room to say goodbye, the alarm went off - at 5:50. Just an hour before I get up anyway. Plus, Lewis heard it too, so I knew I wasn't just crazy. I checked the next two mornings and sure enough, it went off at 5:50 both mornings.

By the time we were both up and at 'em and able to do something about the alarm, we would forget, so it stayed hidden for a little while. Until last night, right before we went to bed. We tore apart our bedroom looking for it. When Lewis located the culprit, it was found to be an old watch from his mission. We think that, a few weeks before, Lewis had been playing with that watch and had inadvertently turned the alarm on. Mystery? Solved.

The alarm is off now. Thank goodness.

Sometimes I Suffer At Work

This is what I did at work on Thursday. In case you can't tell, that's seven bags bursting with paper shreddings. Seven. And I'm not done with the shredding yet.

Alls I can say is, it's a dang good thing my three-day weekend was so freaking awesome.

Tying Up Some Loose Ends

Dear Laura,

Here is the picture of our new table you requested . And also one of the pathetickness of our broken table.

As you might be able to tell from Lewis' body language, it was a really long, tiring, and eventful day. When we have the time/resources/ know-how, we're going to reupholster the seats. I'm thinking a brown and green striped fabric or something to match our towels.

We stored our broken table on our neighbor's doorstep until we got around to moving it (it's heavy!). Luckily, no one lived there, or they would be mad! I know I would, anyway.

Love from,

Alyssa

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Dear Holli,

This is the nightie you gave me at that bridal shower. I can't decide if I like this one better, or the one from my previous post. Alls I know is that I need to keep this one in good repair for the next Hirschi relative to wed. So far so good. Actually, I think this picture is the only time I've ever put the nightie on, and it was taken just last night!

Obviously, I am a hottie hot hot. Although it's a shame my hands got cut off. They were jazzy.

Love from,

Alyssa

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Dear EFY Boys,

If I can not only smell but be overwhelmed by your cologne from twenty paces behind you, you're wearing too much. Also, Axe? Tag? Acqua Di Gio? Really? Show some originality, please.

No love from,

Alyssa

Blood, Sweat, Tears, and Boogers

This is what nursery was yesterday for Lewis and me.

We had nine kids.

1 cried/screamed like a banshee the whole time. On my lap. She also sneezed in my mouth.

1 clung to his mom like an octopus while I tried to pry him away.

1 pushed/hit/stole toys from everyone in the room. He got about six time-outs with no effect.

1 cried on and off for the rest of the time after she was shoved off the bike by the pusher. She also lost her shoe several times.

1 cried until he fell asleep on my lap and then cried when Lewis tried to lay him down in the corner and then fell asleep on his lap and then slept for real in the corner and then woke up and cried some more.

1 tripped and got a mouthful of shopping cart. Then he bled on Lew's shirt.

1 bawled like the world was ending when her dad left, but then was surprisingly better for the rest of the time.

2 were little angels except when the pusher tried to take their toys. Bless them.

None knew how to take turns during singing time.

Plus it was Fast Sunday.

Basically, what I'm trying to say is, I died yesterday. And so did Lewis.

But we got better.

The Saga of the Table

This past weekend, most of my immediate family stayed with Lewis and me. To be a gracious hostess, I decided to make breakfast for everyone on Sunday morning. We were up rather late the night before, but we were going to church at nine, so I dragged myself out of bed super early to cook up some waffles and delicious buttermilk syrup.

Our apartment isn't very big, and the kitchen is the second smallest room in the place (second only to the bathroom). Due to this fact, we have rather small kitchen table. Luckily for us, the table came with two leaves, so we could expand it for company. So, while everyone was getting ready for church around us, Lewis and I began to do just that. We successfully pulled the table apart, laid the two leaves in place, and while we were in the process of pushing the whole thing back together... it died. Right there as we were holding it. Instead of sliding shut nicely, the metal runners buckled and the whole thing caved in. Lewis and I just stood there, holding our respective halves, staring at mess the catastrophe created. Table leaves and runners in a mangled heap on the floor. Small bits of the linoleum top strewn about. Lewis, chewing his lip, trying not to swear in front of my parents. And we just stood there. And stared. I don't think I spoke for about ten minutes.

Of all the furniture, the dining table is one of the most essential. And ours just broke.

My dad came and helped us piece the metal runners back together. Was the operation salvageable? We took the leaves out of the equation for a tiny table is better than no table at all. However, as we attempted to recreate the original, the whole thing caved in on itself again. #@$%.

Still not speaking, I finished making breakfast, a process which was complicated greatly by the loss of the table. Not only is the table used for eating, but with a grand total of two very small counters in our Wymount kitchen, the table is also a useful tool for food preparation. But I did it and everyone ate off their laps, except for Evie, who ate off of Cassie's lap.

There was a chance that the table could be fixed, but probably not for very cheap, and not with any of the tools we had then. But we still needed a table. We were going to have a big family dinner later that day, and as much as I adore all of my family members, they are my family members and hence, like me, so we all spill occasionally. And I really like our couch, so... we needed a table to eat from!

Luckily, Lewis' parents came to the rescue and lent us a couple of folding tables. A square one to prepare food on and a longer one to eat off of. Fantastic!

So, the short-term problem was solved, but the long-term one was wide open. We can't keep the folding tables forever. At about 8:30 that night, Lewis and I begin our ksl.com and craigslist search. We needed something cheap and not ugly, although that criterion was somewhat negotiable.

About twenty minutes into our search, the table was found. 54 inches long, a few scratches, but in otherwise good condition. Came with four, high-backed chairs and a more reliable-looking leaf. Sold.

The only issue was, the table was in Midvale, which is a good forty minute drive, and the selling family is going on vacation today (Monday) and wouldn't be back til Saturday. And it was 9 o'clock at night. But we really needed a table!

The seller was really nice, though, and said, no problem come on up tonight! So we did. And we managed to get not only the table into the car, but also all four of the chairs (we thought we would have to come back for those another time). And now, even though I am exhausted from getting up at 6:30 am yesterday morning and going to bed at 12:30 am last night, we have a table! And it looks nice!

In the end, the whole thing is pretty funny. Our table broke! I was pretty darn furious at the time, though...

Celebrité

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around, does it make a sound?

Similarly, if a celebrity that I've never heard of does something, does that mean they're famous?

Because, obviously, the world of celebrité revolves around me.

But seriously, who is Selena Gomez? Cause her picture is all over my Facebook ads, and I'm at a loss for who she is.