Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Watch where you're going!
Today, while walking at Biola with a group of my classmates, I turned around to say something (because, of course, I was in front due to my inability to walk in groups), continuing to walk all the while, and ran into one of those waist-high gray poles. Luckily I wasn't power-walking like usual.
Monday, February 2, 2009
It's snowing!
Tonight, while eating a scone, Linell laughed at something Jennie said, proceeded to choke on the scone, and blew crumbs all over her computer...and me.
It was really really funny.
It was really really funny.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Bubbles.
Oh my poor Kendra!
I also have one tragic story concerning one mutt, named Twilight. He had one blue eye and one brown eye which was more than enough to convince my five year old mind that he was from the Twilight Zone. It's funny that I refer to Twilight as a "he," because I am not actually sure of the dog's sexual preference...[err--yeah, I just wanted to try that out, but didn't work and I'm not going to backspace]. Anyways, Twilight, the dog named after the television show, that my father apparently thought was appropriate for me to watch at such a young age, was the only dog I ever had. And I think I only had him for a grand total of a week. No, technically, I only had him for a day. Because the day after I got him, my parents decided to go to Manila for some family fun. We left the fate of poor Twilight into the capable hands of my grandfather, whom I barely knew. You probably can see where this is going. If you guessed that my grandfather FORGOT that he had to feed Twilight, then you win. My parents and I arrived at the scene, a week or so later (it might've been longer), with my grandfather standing over Twilight's lifeless body, scratching his head. My mom immediately escorted me back to the taxi just as the realization of what happened slapped me in the face with a harsh sense of reality.
Granted, I only had Twilight for a day. How much repressed feelings of anger and resentment could I possibly have? All I know is that I do not like dogs, either. Maybe it's mostly the way that they smell and the way that they slobber that impedes any sort of emotional attachment to the canines. Gross. Especially when people talk to them like, or dresses them, like they're children.
I also have one tragic story concerning one mutt, named Twilight. He had one blue eye and one brown eye which was more than enough to convince my five year old mind that he was from the Twilight Zone. It's funny that I refer to Twilight as a "he," because I am not actually sure of the dog's sexual preference...[err--yeah, I just wanted to try that out, but didn't work and I'm not going to backspace]. Anyways, Twilight, the dog named after the television show, that my father apparently thought was appropriate for me to watch at such a young age, was the only dog I ever had. And I think I only had him for a grand total of a week. No, technically, I only had him for a day. Because the day after I got him, my parents decided to go to Manila for some family fun. We left the fate of poor Twilight into the capable hands of my grandfather, whom I barely knew. You probably can see where this is going. If you guessed that my grandfather FORGOT that he had to feed Twilight, then you win. My parents and I arrived at the scene, a week or so later (it might've been longer), with my grandfather standing over Twilight's lifeless body, scratching his head. My mom immediately escorted me back to the taxi just as the realization of what happened slapped me in the face with a harsh sense of reality.
Granted, I only had Twilight for a day. How much repressed feelings of anger and resentment could I possibly have? All I know is that I do not like dogs, either. Maybe it's mostly the way that they smell and the way that they slobber that impedes any sort of emotional attachment to the canines. Gross. Especially when people talk to them like, or dresses them, like they're children.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Self discovery...
While pondering the complexities of life post Grey's Anatomy viewage, I made an important discovery about myself that I thought I would share with you all. You may or may not be aware of my disdain for domesticated animals. I just thought it was coincidence. A random personality flaw. A chance preference. A meaningless detail.
But I was wrong...
I don't exactly know how the topic came up, but my friend and I started sharing pet stories. As I shared mine, I started to notice a theme. Let me tell them to you and I think you'll see what I mean.
Tragic Story #1
My first pet was a cute little hamster named Chowhound. My best friend Julie and I got hamsters at the same time. She named her hamster Skipper because he went straight for the little hamster wheel. I named my hamster Chowhound (Chowie for short) because he went straight for the food. Chowie grew into a chubby little fellow, but he was the perfect companion until one fateful, scorching-hot, summer afternoon. Our family was engaging in our weekly housecleaning ritual. My dad put Chowhound out on the porch IN THE SUN in his little oven, I mean, plastic cage. Needless to say, when I went to bring Chowie in a few hours later, he wasn't moving. I was too young to put all the clues together and thought he just suffered an untimely death. I found out the real cause of death years later. (As an aside, Skipper escaped from his cage when he was in the garage. I think he's still roaming the field behind our house to this day.)
Tragic Story #2
After that incident, I decided to take a pet hiatus. Since Skipper just disappeared into Hamster Heaven, Julie was not dissuaded from taking another chance on a pet. She got a rabbit named Willy. We loved Willy. We decided that it was cruel to keep Willy solely in his small wire cage, so we built an enclosed fence on the grass so he could roam around and eat grass. The next day, while we were at church, Willy got out of his fence. Julie also had a dog. The dog didn't eat Willy, but he did corner Willy in the yard. Willy was so frightened that he had a heart attack and died.
Tragic Story #3
I was ready for another pet by this point, and so was Julie. This time it was rabbits for both of us. I picked out the cutest one. She was black and white with a black patch over one eye like a pirate. I named her Samantha. Samantha the Pirate. The only problem was that she was the meanest rabbit ever. She bit me. She ran away every time I tried to pet her. She scratched me whenever I tried to hold her. She was banished to a life in her cage until we gave her away. (The part about Samantha the Pirate is a lie. I really named her Samantha after the American Girl. Remember those books/dolls?)
Tragic Story #4
When I was in eighth grade we got the cutest black lab puppy ever. She was the runt of the litter and we named her Sadie. I spent the first few nights sleeping with her out on our deck so she wouldn't be lonely. Sadie hit a few rough patches, like when she chewed up all of our sprinklers, but overall she was a great dog. When we moved into our new house Sadie started getting out of the yard to go on adventures with other neighborhood dogs. One day she was missing when we came home. Later, I was driving to the store with my mom when we saw her lying on the side of the road. I was sad, but I knew my brother Luke, who was nine years old at the time, would be even more sad. He didn't want to go see her lying on the side of the road, but he didn't want to miss the opportunity to say goodbye, either. His classic comment, which we still quote to this day: "I guess this is just a lose-lose situation!"
So, as you can see, I haven't had the best of luck with pets. These are just a few of the highlights, too. I didn't tell you about our cat that had a nasty tumor and got her tail slammed in the door, my kitten who ran away after I tried to give it a bath, or Julie's bunny who got sick and died after two days.
No wonder I don't like pets!
But I was wrong...
I don't exactly know how the topic came up, but my friend and I started sharing pet stories. As I shared mine, I started to notice a theme. Let me tell them to you and I think you'll see what I mean.
Tragic Story #1
My first pet was a cute little hamster named Chowhound. My best friend Julie and I got hamsters at the same time. She named her hamster Skipper because he went straight for the little hamster wheel. I named my hamster Chowhound (Chowie for short) because he went straight for the food. Chowie grew into a chubby little fellow, but he was the perfect companion until one fateful, scorching-hot, summer afternoon. Our family was engaging in our weekly housecleaning ritual. My dad put Chowhound out on the porch IN THE SUN in his little oven, I mean, plastic cage. Needless to say, when I went to bring Chowie in a few hours later, he wasn't moving. I was too young to put all the clues together and thought he just suffered an untimely death. I found out the real cause of death years later. (As an aside, Skipper escaped from his cage when he was in the garage. I think he's still roaming the field behind our house to this day.)
Tragic Story #2
After that incident, I decided to take a pet hiatus. Since Skipper just disappeared into Hamster Heaven, Julie was not dissuaded from taking another chance on a pet. She got a rabbit named Willy. We loved Willy. We decided that it was cruel to keep Willy solely in his small wire cage, so we built an enclosed fence on the grass so he could roam around and eat grass. The next day, while we were at church, Willy got out of his fence. Julie also had a dog. The dog didn't eat Willy, but he did corner Willy in the yard. Willy was so frightened that he had a heart attack and died.
Tragic Story #3
I was ready for another pet by this point, and so was Julie. This time it was rabbits for both of us. I picked out the cutest one. She was black and white with a black patch over one eye like a pirate. I named her Samantha. Samantha the Pirate. The only problem was that she was the meanest rabbit ever. She bit me. She ran away every time I tried to pet her. She scratched me whenever I tried to hold her. She was banished to a life in her cage until we gave her away. (The part about Samantha the Pirate is a lie. I really named her Samantha after the American Girl. Remember those books/dolls?)
Tragic Story #4
When I was in eighth grade we got the cutest black lab puppy ever. She was the runt of the litter and we named her Sadie. I spent the first few nights sleeping with her out on our deck so she wouldn't be lonely. Sadie hit a few rough patches, like when she chewed up all of our sprinklers, but overall she was a great dog. When we moved into our new house Sadie started getting out of the yard to go on adventures with other neighborhood dogs. One day she was missing when we came home. Later, I was driving to the store with my mom when we saw her lying on the side of the road. I was sad, but I knew my brother Luke, who was nine years old at the time, would be even more sad. He didn't want to go see her lying on the side of the road, but he didn't want to miss the opportunity to say goodbye, either. His classic comment, which we still quote to this day: "I guess this is just a lose-lose situation!"
So, as you can see, I haven't had the best of luck with pets. These are just a few of the highlights, too. I didn't tell you about our cat that had a nasty tumor and got her tail slammed in the door, my kitten who ran away after I tried to give it a bath, or Julie's bunny who got sick and died after two days.
No wonder I don't like pets!
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Two thousand and nine.
Kendra: I agree. And you're hilarious. So I'm blogging, on account of both of those facts.
I don't know about you guys, but I was remembering New Year's Eve 1999 (when everybody's parents prepared for some unforeseen Y2K disaster in which spare AA batteries and canned goods would somehow save us) and how it was both very similar and very different from New Year's Eve 2008.
It's similar in that it was a very boring evening spent right here in Glendora, and I saw some of the very same neighbors and family friends, and Kevin was even technically around (we were both at church, but probably had never even spoken at that point). I remembering thinking that someday I would be older and able to have FUN on New Year's Eve and do WHATEVER I WANTED. Well, it turns out that I'm not much more exciting on New Year's than I was at age 12. I realized the only thing people do for the new year is have big parties, and I don't like big parties. I've come to terms with gin rummy and Chinese food.
It's different in that my family is scattered tonight - two in hella NorCal, one at a high school party, one in New Mexico with my grandma, and me bumming around G-town. It's also different in that, well, I'm different. Duh. For one thing, if you had told me at age 12 that I'd be engaged at age 21 . . . well, I might have believed you, but only because I was young and naive. I definitely wouldn't have believed it later on. I especially wouldn't have believed that I'd be engaged to that tall Collier kid from youth group.
The moral of the story, I guess, if there even is one, is that life doesn't turn out the way you'd expect. But I'm glad that we're there for each other during the process, even when we graduate or move away or get engaged or whatever else. Hey, it's the new year. I'm allowed to be a little sentimental.
I don't know about you guys, but I was remembering New Year's Eve 1999 (when everybody's parents prepared for some unforeseen Y2K disaster in which spare AA batteries and canned goods would somehow save us) and how it was both very similar and very different from New Year's Eve 2008.
It's similar in that it was a very boring evening spent right here in Glendora, and I saw some of the very same neighbors and family friends, and Kevin was even technically around (we were both at church, but probably had never even spoken at that point). I remembering thinking that someday I would be older and able to have FUN on New Year's Eve and do WHATEVER I WANTED. Well, it turns out that I'm not much more exciting on New Year's than I was at age 12. I realized the only thing people do for the new year is have big parties, and I don't like big parties. I've come to terms with gin rummy and Chinese food.
It's different in that my family is scattered tonight - two in hella NorCal, one at a high school party, one in New Mexico with my grandma, and me bumming around G-town. It's also different in that, well, I'm different. Duh. For one thing, if you had told me at age 12 that I'd be engaged at age 21 . . . well, I might have believed you, but only because I was young and naive. I definitely wouldn't have believed it later on. I especially wouldn't have believed that I'd be engaged to that tall Collier kid from youth group.
The moral of the story, I guess, if there even is one, is that life doesn't turn out the way you'd expect. But I'm glad that we're there for each other during the process, even when we graduate or move away or get engaged or whatever else. Hey, it's the new year. I'm allowed to be a little sentimental.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Bring me back to life...
Hey friends...
I think we should bring the Loving Room blog back to life, especially in light of recent events, namely, Elise graduating, Carissa getting engaged, and Willis moving back to AZ for an indefinite period of time. We just started a family blog, and it's super fun. So I think I'm motivated for some blogging.
I don't even know if Elise and Willis are a part of this at all...hmm...
So I plan to post a "Year in Review: 2008" blog as soon as I get around to writing it. Probably when I get back to So Cal and have nothing else to do until interterm starts.
On a completely unrelated note, I went to a metal show tonight. I got the black "X" on my hand in permanent marker and everything. It was "brutal," as they say. I may or may not have done some head banging, possibly some two-stepping. I listened to a song called "Decapitate Hannah Montana" which had an especially moving part where the lead singer said "F*** that bitch," and the crowd responded with "I want to watch that bitch die," or something like that. It was sort of hard to understand at times. It was a small venue, so needless to say, I stood out like a sore thumb. All in all, it was a positive experience. I enjoyed it immensely.
On another unrelated note, I saw The Curious Case of Benjamin Button last night. It was not good at all, in my opinion. There was no plot. I think the only redeeming value of the whole movie was Brad Pitt. My cousin and I decided that if we had the chance we would probably make out with Brad Pitt. I think God could forgive us, and hopefully the police could too, since he would probably never agree to it.
So far on my break I have watched three hours of John and Kate Plus Eight, as well as three hours of What Not to Wear. I puff painted a green turtle neck. I made lots and lots of cookies. I went shopping and got some new shoes along with a few shirts. I hung out with some friends. I played a lot of games: take-two, scategories, some lame game we got for Christmas that I forget the name of, Egyptian war. I did a puzzle. I hung out with family mucho. I went to Chico. I saw a metal concert. I wore my pj's for a whole day. I got a new water bottle that I'm super excited about.
Those are the highlights, I guess.
Well, to the two or so readers of this blog, thank you. Let's be friends.
Kendra
I think we should bring the Loving Room blog back to life, especially in light of recent events, namely, Elise graduating, Carissa getting engaged, and Willis moving back to AZ for an indefinite period of time. We just started a family blog, and it's super fun. So I think I'm motivated for some blogging.
I don't even know if Elise and Willis are a part of this at all...hmm...
So I plan to post a "Year in Review: 2008" blog as soon as I get around to writing it. Probably when I get back to So Cal and have nothing else to do until interterm starts.
On a completely unrelated note, I went to a metal show tonight. I got the black "X" on my hand in permanent marker and everything. It was "brutal," as they say. I may or may not have done some head banging, possibly some two-stepping. I listened to a song called "Decapitate Hannah Montana" which had an especially moving part where the lead singer said "F*** that bitch," and the crowd responded with "I want to watch that bitch die," or something like that. It was sort of hard to understand at times. It was a small venue, so needless to say, I stood out like a sore thumb. All in all, it was a positive experience. I enjoyed it immensely.
On another unrelated note, I saw The Curious Case of Benjamin Button last night. It was not good at all, in my opinion. There was no plot. I think the only redeeming value of the whole movie was Brad Pitt. My cousin and I decided that if we had the chance we would probably make out with Brad Pitt. I think God could forgive us, and hopefully the police could too, since he would probably never agree to it.
So far on my break I have watched three hours of John and Kate Plus Eight, as well as three hours of What Not to Wear. I puff painted a green turtle neck. I made lots and lots of cookies. I went shopping and got some new shoes along with a few shirts. I hung out with some friends. I played a lot of games: take-two, scategories, some lame game we got for Christmas that I forget the name of, Egyptian war. I did a puzzle. I hung out with family mucho. I went to Chico. I saw a metal concert. I wore my pj's for a whole day. I got a new water bottle that I'm super excited about.
Those are the highlights, I guess.
Well, to the two or so readers of this blog, thank you. Let's be friends.
Kendra
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Combustible.
Found an anonymous post-it note in the quotebook. This is what it said:
"if all the boys in the world were to spontaneously combust...then...so be it!"
"if all the boys in the world were to spontaneously combust...then...so be it!"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)