My life as a girlfriend

It was my first day at Disney and my first full day in Florida. I woke at Auntie Elly's to a piece of toast and espresso, the perfect duo. We packed up my things and left for Orlando. The entire 45 minute drive I was thinking to myself, "what the hell am I doing moving to Disney, I'm gonna be living with a bunch of quacks". Oh well, decision made. I was a bit nervous, but would never mention it at the time, as I entered the Disney housing complex. I got my keys to the apartment as they sent me to a bus stop where I would be heading to orientation. I had dozens of forms to fill out before I got there when I suddenly realized I had no pen. The air was thick and sticky, the bus stop filled with odd looking people... except one. A fair haired gentleman in an orange linen shirt. He looked normal AND he had a pen in hand. I intentionally sat beside him, I can't remember if I asked for the pen or if it was offered but regardless I started my paperwork. Moments later realizing I hadn't introduced myself. As I did I realized how nice this orange shirted guy was. I can't remember if I said it or not but he was the first normal person I'd spoke with since my arrival only an hour earlier. I decided that we would be friends. All day he FOLLOWED me around orientation. Alright, he just waited for me as it took me at least 5 minutes more to pass each station. We rode the bus back, he asked for my number and that was the end. A couple days later he texted me and I waited to text back. It was a week later that he invited me over to his place for a "small get together". He picked me up, we played kings(one of my favorite drinking games) and ended up kissing on the porch. He whispered sweet Italian nothings into my ear and I went home. We texted back and forth every once in a while and started hanging out a little more. Figuring him for a player I thought we were just make out buddies. We went sky diving together and he asked me out on a real date, the rest is history. We're still together and I'm heading to Connecticut to meet his folks! Wish me luck.

Yacht and Beach- Tales of the future parts

Audrey- reporter

Hannah M- Katie Couric/popular childrens author/ narrarator

Colleen-Westin hotel owner (newyork)

Chris D- Boss of Colleen (listen wheres the story. chub chub chub)

Amanda- investor/wall street

Pak ho - Triad leader (heyroy)

Jing- Triad leader(we've been following your bra)/jing gets shot/i am framed

Hans- pop sensation in Tokyo

Dieg0-Colins butler/chef/personal physiciain

Colin- director/island owner/ wealthy nobleman (knighted)/ Marie

Michael Mays- ranch owner/u boat/little sean/marrys Jill

Jodi-Gian Paulo/ famous/

Abby-house wife/Phillie/has little Philicity

Philicity- stuardess/marries Pilot Roger

Marybeth- in cabinet/lots of connections

Sean- dad dies and becomes CIA agent

Chris- Navy Admiral

Brittni B- google secretary

Ben- little english boutique

Brittany E- marries Chris Brown/ BBC/ legal battles

Collin- mainstay

Robert&Jonathon- Fashion icons

Dario&Suzy- famous actor/she is his agent

Louis - W hotel/ in kahoots with Colleen/ provides accomidations

Hannah- Hurricane Hannas

Marcos- Adverising tycoon/ movies

Nate, Robert,Steve, Zach- the same

Ryan- promoted to Manager(Jen Jacobs)

Cameron and Katelyn- runs yacht and boardwalk / married

Shane- Manages Typhoon

Brenan- Rocket science for government/lives in keys with chuck

Chuck- bait man

Cory- Florida governor/ reopens relations in Cuba

Tim R- pirate/Cory right hand/ Carribean yachstman

Minh - safari

Lizzy-physician

Phil- rebuild native american nation in Kenya

Rauf- Taliban

Chassidy-mom n pop restaurant/ church goer

Tegan-president of small college/ pta

Nick & Rebecca- married/rv/hemi truck

Kike- run mexico city, underground and above ground, hand in everything, night club owners

Franscisco- right hand man

Amber& Nadies- con artists in Vegas

Keri- showgirl/ brothels / illegitimate son Dominique with Vasquez Dominico

Bert- gets disease from girl Keri works with

Sam- loaner goat cheese farmer in the mountains

My life as Tom Petty's free fallin'

She's a good girl, loves her mama, loves Jesus and America too, she's a good girl, crazy about Elvis, loves horses and her boyfriend too.... And I'm freeee free fallin'. I would like to personally thank Tom Petty for making this song and furthermore John Mayer for remaking it. I feel like this song might be written about me. Today even more so. What did I do today you might ask. Well, I jumped out of a plane. yes. I went sky diving. I'll tell you what, it was the best damn feeling in the world. I would recommend anyone doing it! It was beyond fantastic. I must go again. I would begin to explain it, but it won't compare. So I'll attach a video, and tell you, my mouth was dry.

Some questions I will answer:
Who: I went with my friends Blake, Brian and Andrew
What: I know right...
When: this morning, they asked me yesterday to go, and i did
Where: Cape Canaveral Florida, right on the beach, amazing view
Why: Carpe Diem.
How: This i'm not sure of.
First words 150000 feet in the air: umm. holy shit
First words landed: Amazing

It may be adrenalin.. still... 15 hours later BUT, I feel like I can do anything.

My life as the Yacht and Beach Soap Star

"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players; they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts"- William Shakespeare

I believe that most everyone has a flair for the dramatics. We know how to manipulate for that last piece of cheesecake. We know how to play it cool when he walks by. We even know the timing for inappropriate and professional behavior. Most of the time. People make fun of soap operas but if you take a small peek at what is going on around you, your probably living in one. I've become increasingly aware of this fact since my first day at the Yacht and Beach club.
This week on days of the yacht and beach club; Lifeguard Shane was rounding second base with a guest under bridge two... during his break. Lifeguard Jodi was guarding said water. As the Coordinator passed by she realized that Shane's job was now on the line. She immediately ran to him, giving him only seconds to get away before the coordinator saw. Three days prior, 5 members of the Yacht and Beach lifeguard team, including lifeguard Jodi and her Latin friend,2 members of the recreation team and 1 yacht and beach bellhop were riding a Disney Cast member bus to work. It was a rainy yet warm day in central Florida, as these cast members were riding along. Suddenly the bus hydroplaned, sending its occupants into a tizzy. After turning multiple times the bus driver gained control and rode his occupants into a nearby median, dodging a small SUV and the occupants imminent death. This incident made all the Disney Cast members late. So late that they didn't notice the large hickey imprinted on the neck of lifeguard Chase. On the day of lifeguard Shane's indiscretion, lifeguard Jodi confided in lifeguard Chase. She explained the dangerous, yet wildly hilarious moment. She then realized the mark on Lifeguard Chase's neck. His explanation; Minnie Mouse.
Tune in next week to see what happens when the pushy English lad and young American lifeguards have a dance. And how will Lifeguard Jodi deal with her Latin friends risky behavior. Is lifeguard Lane a lesbian? Check it out, next week.

(all names besides Jodi's.. and Minnie's are changed for cast member confidentiality)

My life as a lukewarm lifesaver

The very premise of a life guarding job is pessimistic. The sole purpose of a lifeguard is to wait for someone to get badly injured, almost die or swallow too much water. You sit on a stand and wait for something bad to happen. I consider myself a relatively happy person. Bad drivers don't really piss me off, I can laugh off almost any situation and I have a cheery disposition. But unfortunately I can't seem to make the best of staring at water, waiting for a fatality. I wake up almost every night somehow with my whistle around my neck, scanning my room like a pool. My poor roommate thinks I'm psychotic, my whistle is torn to bits and sleeping is no longer a pleasure. On the job, I pace waiting for trouble to enter my field of view, whistle in mouth, walkie talkie in hand. When there is no one in my pool area its even worse. I'm racing across the water looking for a little brown rug that is supposed to test a lifeguards accuracy in water scanning. Out of all the jobs I've had; office assistant, camp counsellor, bakery employee, waitress, nanny, cashier, merchandise, office manager and so on, life guarding is by far the most intense job. So I've come up with a few friendly tips for those of you in the guard profession. They will either ease your mind or save you from boredom.
At each stand when you arrive you:
a. scan in
b. small talk with the lifeguard you are bumping
c. go over the emergency action plan for your station
d. pray until you are bored or distracted
e. sing songs aloud
f. practice the steps in a waltz
g. butt into a guests conversation, they don't know you. you are there to save their lives if need be. they will listen.
f. fake an accent, English is usually the easiest, I've found when pretending you are from a different country, it is best you actually KNOW the language (your pool could actually have guests from this country and they WILL want to interact)
g. shout something important to a fellow lifeguard (this will draw attention to you and may spur on conversation with guests or make you look important, either way, win win)
h. pretend you are a princess.. or a pirate

if the time for your rotation has not yet come try fantasizing about something, maybe a fellow guard. Go through CPR and rescue breathing in your head. Maybe pick out the most likely guest to drown and bet money. Or pick the guest most willing to call 911 and the guest who will likely get in the way during an emergency procedure.

my life as a Disney employee

You wonder what Elton John was thinking when he wrote the circle of life. I mean, I get it. Life is an endless circle. What goes around comes around. There is nothing new under the sun. But all of that is kind of deep for the opening song in Lion King. I currently am engaged in a different circle of life. I have yet again packed up and moved across the country. I am again on my one, all alone. Its a fabulous feeling and a terrifying feeling all at once. On the one hand, I can do as I please, no one knows me, so everyone I meet knows only what they see. Its a fresh start and a new beginning. But, no one knows me and I know no one. I have no one to call when I run out of gas. On Friday night, I have to make friends and endure a couple minutes of awkward silence. I have no go to mates and nothing is familiar.
As an update, I've moved into Disney housing and am working as a lifeguard. I have three roommates and am not allowed to put anything on my walls. I've met a ton of people already, most who are from Europe. The weather is sticky and hot, but we get tons of perks here. Since my arrival I've had some pretty ridiculous interactions.
1. I got ruffied at House of Blues
2. I became a regular karaoke doll at B dubs
3. Was kissed by my boss
4. Learned to surf at Cocoa Beach
5. Went out with Peter Pan
6. Was jumped by an Englishman
7. Fell asleep in my hotels conference room and woke up with blankets
8. Saw Donald Trumps flat while visiting an old college friend in West Palm Beach
9. Took Mormonism 101
10. Was kicked out of an Irish pub
11. Got in a bus accident
12. Found a fantastic church
13. Ran out of gas and had to push Lola with my new friend from England
14. Rode tower of terror a dozen times
15. had a magical Disney date
16. had sweet italian nothings whispered into my ear
17. tried gator bits

That's it so far. I'm learning that sex is a game to these Disney people, lizards somehow make their way into your kitchen regularly, pools aren't always refreshing and Disney really is the happiest place on earth.

My life as an unlicensed fishergirl

So, I'm moving to Florida to work for Disney. ROAD TRIP! I have spent the summer in Cali and Arizona, without a job. Well, I was a dog sitter for a couple weeks, but the gentleman whose dog I was watching passed away. I am now out of money and on my way to Florida. My friend Robby and I left Arizona a couple of days ago. We spent the day driving from Phoenix, Arizona to Austin, Texas. It took us about 20 hours. I drove the WHOLE way. Sure I had to make about ten pee breaks, but we got to stop in the county of Crockett, where Davy Crockett first resided. We stopped by his museum, had the best DQ blizzards of our lives and trucked on. We decided to stay in Austin for a day visiting our friend Ashley. Austin is amazing by the way, I just love Texas. After our fabulous tour of Texas we drove another 20 hours straight to Atlanta, Georgia. I had decided in New Mexico, two days before, that I'd like to have a magnet from each state. We couldn't find any magnets in Texas. We searched an hour in Louisiana looking for one and another twenty looking for one in Alabama. Apparently magnets are out. At around ten pm we were arriving in Georgia. Robby had been taking pictures of each state welcome sign and I had been peeing in each state. We had arrived at the "We're glad Georgia is on your mind" sign and I had to pee. Luckily there was a rest stop there so we pulled over. Come to find out said rest stop had closed. I'd already exhausted Robby's pit stop limits, so he requested that I pee there. At the side of the road, on the Alabama, Georgia state line, in front of the Georgia welcomes you sign. Reluctantly, I peed. We continued on and stayed with Robby's cousins in Atlanta. The next morning we got up, visited some friends along the way and made it to Lynchburg by dinner.

I spent a week in Lynchburg before my trek down to my new home in Orlando. Many fun times were had there as usual. One time in particular was one Sunday afternoon. A buddy Jake and I decided we'd like to go fishing. We'd just left church, so I was in a dress. Like a true lady I fished in my dress and like a true lady I fell in the river. Fortunately for the other fishers and unfortunately for me, my dress what white and my underwear pink. After an hour or two of fishing and swimming Jake and I grabbed our tackle box and beers and headed two miles back to the car. As we started we were approached by the Virginia Conservation Police. They asked to see a license, I, unaware that fishing required a license, told them it was in my car. They proceeded to walk with us 2 miles back to Jake's truck. I, in my now see through dress was lagging a bit behind. Realizing that our beers were not permitted and we could be fined and jailed, I then snapped into bullshit mode. Chatting up a storm with these coppers. "This ice is fantastic, I love ice, you know people that eat ice generally have an iron deficiency, if you ever want to treat a girl with an iron deficiency, take her to sonic for some good ice." We finally reached the car and I was praying they didn't ask what was in the cooler. They issued a ticket and let us on our way. We were left, wet and see through, with two fishing tickets, a whole case of illegal beers and no bail bond. Good day really.

My life as a sloppy joe

I love to shop. Especially in housewares. There is something fantastic about a well decorated display. The colors, furniture and wall treatments can change your mood, making you feel comfortable, posh, urban, or even give you culture. Today I felt like going about town, I have no money so it was purely for fun. Among many others I browsed a store called Anthropologie, a shabby chic store filled with little details to make you feel like home. Something I find intriguing about a store is its employees. In this particular Anthropologie the employees were well dressed and sophisticated. I on the other hand, rolled out of bed, no make up, nails a bit trashy and hair unclean. I was wearing a plain dress and sandals, nothing fancy. As I perused I began to feel unwelcome. With everything I touched I'd get a sour look from an employee, making me feel as though I didn't belong. They, the employees of an Anthropologie chain store, made me feel as though I was not good enough, rich enough, pretty enough to be in the store that they merely worked in. This got me thinking, if I had money to buy something here, I would not, purely on the service I was NOT given. I flipped through a book about Audrey Hepburn, (one of the classiest of women) and the woman at the counter bellowed, "are you going to buy that?" while the pretty woman beside me read an entire novel. I realized that this was my biggest pet peeve. What gives one the right to think that they are better than another. Who gives someone the right to look down upon someone else. This sense of entitlement pisses me off to the core. There are few things in life that can tick me off and this was one of them. I was in the sequel to Pretty Woman. At first I felt inferior, then I realized how stupid I was for allowing this type of conduct. On a daily basis I allow the people and even friends around me to make me feel less important then they. I may not be the coolest, prettiest or well-groomed individual, but as cheesy as this sounds, I am Gods creation. He created us all and He created us all cool in our own ways. No one is better than another and we all have something amazing to offer. We all do ugly things and we all at some point will feel superior to someone else. We also all do pretty things and have the ability to make those around us feel special. I'm slowly but surely reading a book called Just Like Jesus by Max Lucado . I quote "Those in the circle of Christ had no doubt of his love; those in our circles should have no doubt about ours". I've decided from this day on to no longer accept this inferiority but to make others feel superior. Not because I am superior but because we are all inferior to God. And damn it we are in America, there is no cast system here!

My life as the third musketeer

I've never liked the 3 Musketeers bars. After a bite I wonder, why not go the extra mile and get a Milky Way, at least you'll be getting some caramel. With every bite I'm left wondering whats missing, no caramel, not nuts, no peanut butter, no marshmallow... almost any other chocolate bar can offer more than chocolate and fluff. There seams to be only two musketeers in that equation. The french novel by Dumas, featuring Porthos, Athos and Aramis is a Three Musketeers that I can enjoy. I can't remember experiencing an "all for one and one for all" moment, like I did TONIGHT. As all good stories start, my evening began at Skateland. I'd met up with some friends and had my very first roller skating experience. This was my first time at a roller rink and my first time on 8 wheels. We dressed up in 80's garb and as it turns out, I am quite a natural! Afterwards I stopped by a friends house and had my very first cherry pit spitting contest. I'm currently going through a cherry phase. Maybe its because they're on sale at Safeway, or that I'm allergic to artificial cherries, so the real this is refreshing. Regardless of the reason, I'm in cherry mode. My first cherry pit spitting contest was off the tailgate of a truck, unfortunately, I am not a 'natural' spitter. These events seem minor, but they lead up to the big bang. While spitting cherries my friend Matt suggests a run through a cornfield. Caleb and I were the only two both willing and able. We parked a distance from the cornfield and journeyed on in. My initial reaction was a fear of running into snakes, but soon realized that a person within this cornfield would be an even worse alternative. With my huge fear of snakes and even bigger fear of the dark thriving within me, the three of us pressed on, determined to make it from one side of the field to the other. Our search for the end included a couple tries at a human pyramid for direction from the moon, piggy back rides, a couple scare tactics by both boys and several sprints through corny terrain once frightened. When we finally reached the end of the cornfield we had a gutter/river to cross. The boys made it with ease but I hesitated. Both boys helped me across, and it was then that I felt the bond. We had had quite an adventure, risking pesticide poisoning, possible interactions with children of the corn or the Chandler murderer, and fighting back unruly corn stalks, yet we'd had finished our task. Now sooo hot from the still piping Arizona night air, we walked to a nearby fountain. We were swimming around, smacking each other with Matt's wet shirt, throwing me in the lake and plotting revenge when a cop pulled up. Swimming in the fountain is prohibited, or so the sign says, so we figured we were in trouble. The cop then asked us if we'd heard a loud bang. I had, but the boys had not. We came to that disagreement and the cop realized that conversing with us was worthless, he offered us a ride which we then declined. If we sat in his car, he would know we were wet, we'd be caught. Only moments later another cop pulls up, but this time from behind us. He gets out and asks for names, d.o.b's and what not. We were questioned yet again about the bang and then left wet and out of trouble for the crime we just committed. On our journey back we saw a Filibertos, open, 24 hrs!! None of us had our wallets but we were determined to eat. Matt was not permitted to enter, so he sat reading the paper, half naked, in front of Fili B's at 2 in the morning, while Caleb and I worked our magic. We got two free burritos, drinks and choco tacos, but I can't disclose how. After the final walk to the car our journey had ended. My only regret, not riding in the cop car, I've never been before believe it or not.

My life as the attributer

The other day an ex boyfriend, who now is a fantastic musician attributed his music playing to me. Saying something about how the only reason he learned guitar was to impress me on my birthday. This got me thinking. I've never attributed anything to anyone. I can't be the way I am for no reason. I'd like to tribute stuff... here goes..

I tribute my blog to Kyle Patrick who inspired me to write my stories instead of tell him.
I tribute my innate need for change and excitement to my mother who constantly redecorates.
I tribute my relationship with God to Ashley who showed me what its like to have a real relationship.
I tribute my love for baking to my sweet tooth, without my desire to eat sweets, I would not bake them.
I tribute my love for music to my Opa who always shows me different composers and gave me unlimited use of his keyboard and my mom who never stopped playing music, especially Abba.
I tribute my Dutch pride and love for history to my Oma who never ceases to encourage me to find that nice dutch boy, tell me stories of Europe or send me haagleslag and druppies.
I tribute my loose lips to Jarred and his never gonna stop approach.
I tribute my need for McDonald's to Lissie and Jess, I can't remember many chats without it.
I tribute my love for dance to Caleb who always created such magical moments.
I tribute my friendliness to moving too many times, four high schools in four years takes the shyr right out of you.
I tribute my coffee drinking to Cammy, I finally caved after two years of asking, and true, it does give you a boost in the morning!
I tribute my hate for peas to Mrs. Brobank at Notre Dame, microwaved peas should never be eaten.
I tribute my love for the car wash to David who showed me the fun of a water sprayer.
I tribute my vocals to Robby, Colby and Alex for making me sing.
I tribute any sarcasm within me to Michelle, first your sour then your sweet.
I tribute my constant apologies to Breanna, you rubbed off on me, sorry.
I tribute my big goals to Auntie Elle, you set a great example.
I tribute my love for Chinese food to Justin, who showed me how to truly appreciate it.

My life as a mailhouse mystery

There are some things in life that don't happen enough. Fireworks, public humiliation and the closely related public fart. Much like fireworks and public humiliation a good public fart is loud and unexpected. I was at the post office the other day changing my address. It was about 4:30 and the post office was packed. In a line of about 20 people, I was smack dab in the middle of minding my own business. Checking my phone every couple of minutes, looking around at the collectors stamps (who collects stamps, really?) when all of a sudden I hear a long and lean fart. It was a ten seconder at least, sounding identical to a whoppi cushion. I look around to both prove that it was not me and to inquire as to who would commit such a heinous crime. As I looked, all twenty of us starred directly at the culprit, a shorter Indian man with a curry colored shirt. Fortunately for all of us, he was at the front desk with his mail, a good ten feet ahead. I immediately bust out laughing. Being the youngest and now obviously the least mature in the room, I try to maintain composure. A gentleman in front of me says, "that was the loudest fart I've ever heard", "was that for real?" the guy behind him said. The woman behind me started looking around and I too was looking for a hidden camera. What was supposed to be a short in and out experience at our local post office turned into a bonding experience with 20 of our towns residents. We had all just been on a journey. From the minute that Indian man farted, each of us left our keep to myself, I'm on a mission mindset and entered a group effort to make that fart seam unheard and natural.
But it wasn't.

Her life as a plate licking debutant

Girls dreams about their "meet cute". If you've ever seen the movie 'The Holiday' you know what I mean. Its that first meeting or reason you are brought together. Whether you date the guy that was sitting next to you on your 6 hour flight home. Or marry the girl you publicly humiliated by tossing her and all her belongings to the floor with one shoulder brush. I've had some good "meet cutes". One of a ski lift, an airplane, a first date where I got motion sickness and one in a photo booth. But the story of the day is not exactly mine to tell.
My uncle asked this girl out on a date, he thought it'd be cute to take her to his place and make her spaghetti. While the meal was ending he told her he had to step out for a minute. Little did she know that he'd gone out to spy on her. As he peered through the big bay kitchen window, he saw his date not only finishing her spaghetti but licking her plate... fervently. After some time, he decided that the plate licker was the girl for him. Now this is the same girl who on our first meeting dared my brother to stick a dried pepper up his nose, sending him home crying. Needless to say they are now married with a very cute first date story!

My life as someone else

I love to dress up. Hell, I love to be someone I'm not. I'm sure I've said it before but whenever I go somewhere on my own, especially flying, I tend to create an alias. Whether its a english traveller from Manchester, an immigrant from Santiago, Chile or a southern belle. I just enjoy pretending. When I wait tables I tend to throw in an accent for extra flair. And when I'm answering phones at work I pretend I'm a mother of two. When I'm flying, I dress more sophisticated and bring my laptop to look like I'm on a business trip. And when I'm out dancing I make up a name and give out my brothers number. The real story is that the real me is not who I want to be. I fall under the category of the free spirit. I'm pretty irresponsible, discombobulated and flaky. My memory is lacking, I have no time management skills and I'm extremely unrealistic. I keep screwing up in the same areas of life, and feel like I'm in a downward spiral. There are soo many times where I feel like I am outside of God's grace. Sure He forgives sins, but those are the screw ups of good people or even generally good people. I, do not fall into that category. My only hope is though I am not, I know I am. I didn't come up with that p.s Louie Giglio did. His books got some great views on God, who is more than generally good. He's got it all and a bag of chips. One thing Louie talks about is Moses. When he was talking to God through the fiery bush, Moses was all "no God, can't do it, I'm just a silly bitch. I do bad stuff, I suck at almost everything and I'm probably not worth your time". That was paraphrasing of course but you get the gist. And God didn't say, " o sure you are Moses, your kick-ass", God said, "I'll be with you and I'm the shit" (again, paraphrasing). Kinda encouraging! Sure I need to get a handle on my lack of time management and I should probably pony up and grab a hold of some maturity but regardless I've got this bitchin' God whose with me.

My life as pimp juice

Here's a little jam my sista friend and I wrote on the fly. Check us out on youtube, afternoon delight by livinala.

Yo its Jay Dizzle
they call me lil' Jill
our jams are real fly
cause we ain't on the pill
we ride low in a bug
and flow like thugs
we don't pop it or lock it
but we definitely drop it

We rolled down to Mickey D's
(yes just like that)
And skipped out on our friends
Wendy and Jack
Loaded up on sweet tea
and yes'd like Kiki

YESSS YESSS (see yes dance on youtube for reference)

Now here's the part
where it gets real tight
playas thugging around
and almost got in a fight
we was dropping moves
like they do in da clubs
we turned our ear and hear...

weeoweeowee weeoweeowee weeoweeowee
we hear a cop car
weeoweeowee weeoweeowee weeoweeowee
it was a cop car

We gave a smile and a wave
and headed for home
Our mama was cookin'
sweet pasta and scones
mmmmmmm gdnight
mmmmm sleep tight

My life as a smushed sweet and sour packet

I'm an old fashioned girl, I like my hot dogs plain and my men cavalier, I like my jeans worn in, orange juice in the morning and can be completely satisfied by the McDonald's dollar menu. You could say I'm a McDonald's enthusiast. I've got a usual for almost any hour of the day. My senior year of college I roomed with four other girls who shared in my enthusiasm. McDonald's brought us together with nightly chats and long car rides. I regularly stock up on sweet and sour sauce packets, just in case I get some bland chicken or run out of spices at home. These packets generally bring me a lot of joy, but on more than one occasion I've forgotten them in my purse and suffered an explosion of sorts. One of these said explosions occurred a couple weeks ago at the airport. It was my last day in Lynchburg, I left the house I'd lived in all year along with my wonderful roommates. While checking my luggage I was blubbering like a little girl, explaining to ALL of the airport attendees that I'd be leaving forever, also trying to prove that the girl I'd been hugging for 20minutes was one of my best friends, not my lesbian lover. Still crying I make my way through the security line. My bags had barely made it through the machine as it started to beep. The kind gentleman asked if he might look through my purse. I nodded as he cautiously opened my 2007 navy blue Guess tote. He put his hand in this mysterious blue bag and immediately jerked it out. The gentleman looked at me in horror, his hand covered in a light brown paste. I, still crying, try to pull myself together, apologize for the strong smell of sweet and sour sauce and the sticky mess that he was now covered in and grab for some paper towels. The gentleman gives me a sad sort of look, pats my arm and says, "I'll clean it up honey". As a slight side note I'd like to inquire as to why all of the attendees in my life refer to me as Honey, Sweetie or Missie. My Alltell guy, maintenance men, the guy that takes my money at McDonald's and even the postman. Anyways, the security guy not only had a few sweet and sour packets explode on him but was now cleaning up the residue that had deflowered my purse. He even washed off my dr. pepper lip chap! He finished up and sent me down to my gate, liquids and all. I sat down, got myself something to drink and took out my leftover baguette from panera. I'd enclosed some butter packets (whats bread without butter?) in a little bag. As I opened said bag, I fixed myself a lovely little snack. As I went for a bite, the now melted butter slopped right onto my dress. Now smelling strongly of sweet and sour sauce, still sticky and now greasy from the butter, I boarded the plane, met the really cute guy sitting next to me and talked for the next five hours. Poor guy!

My life as a hostess hauler

Everybody loves a good hostess snack, whether its a ho-ho, twinkie, powder donut or zebra cake. Our friend Chris had ransacked a hostess factory and gave us some of his proceeds. It was another girls night and six girlfriends had piled into Lola (my small white bug). We filled the back with hostess snacks and headed down to Tempe. Not sure what the evening would hold, the six of us rode around town, windows down, munching on tasty cakes. Arizona summers are hot, and our hostess snacks were melting, so at a stoplight we offered some donuts to the fellas in the car next to us. In return they gave us their phone numbers and invited us to a party. My car was getting choclafied so we had to get rid of our snacks. We threw around hostess snacks like nobodies business. Every passerby was gifted with the joys of hostess. We quickly became known as the donutgirls. We were invited to numerous parties and gatherings. BUT the donutgirls didn't make any appearances, giving out free donuts on ASU's campus was ten times more entertaining. The evening progressed and the donutgirls were in demand. For just a night we were downtown Tempe's local heroes, giving munchies to those who had the munchies and providing carbs for those who needed to hold in their liquor!

My life as a texas wannabe

I love Kentucky Fried Chicken. When I'm feeling country I eat KFC extra crispy. The other day I was out with my Texan friend Jake. We were in his big truck with sweet tea, a bucket of extra crispies listening to "a little bit of chicken fried" by the Zack Brown Band, on our way to the driving range. Good day. He got a call from his mama (who he called pretty lady) so I pretended I was a southern belle trucking through our little country town with the summer breeze in my hair and my cowboy lover on my arm. Reality is, I'm from Canada, we're in Lynchburg, I don't own a cowboy hat, the breeze was more of a rushing wind from the highway and Jake, bless his heart, is neither on my arm NOR my lover. But I did have sweet tea and KFC! A couple of weeks ago I went to a wedding in Texas. I've decided that Texans are part of a club. They eat deep fried Twinkies, kolaches, and gravy with their chicken nuggets. They two-step, wear cowboy boots and have Texas flags flown proudly. Not gonna lie, I felt left out. There were all these rules about line dancing and shuffling my feet, rules about what kind of boots to wear and songs I've never heard. Men asked you to dance and held you in their arms opposed to coming up behind you and grabbing your bum. Its a whole new world down there! So I've decided, I will move to Texas, cook me up some grits, buy me a truck and boots, and marry a country boy. All I need to do is listen to a little more Sugarland, grab an accent, drink a little more sweet tea and purchase those boots!

My life as simba

I am a Disney FANATIC!! I was born into the obsession, my family has fed me Disney movies and Mickey popsicles my whole life. I just got accepted into the Disney internship program in Orlando and I'm super jazzed. As of August I will be leaving, alone, AGAIN. Don't get me wrong, I'm stoked but more and more I realize what Rafiki was talking about when he sang 'the circle of life'. This is my life's circle, start something new, get used to it, struggle to get comfortable, love it then leave it. It could be a job, an apartment, a city, a church, a relationship, whatever. I'm at the leaving part right now. You'd think I'd be an expert at it since I've had to do it so many times. I try thinking about all the amazing times ahead and and the crazy new experiences but every time I get settled, I get the notion that this is as good as it gets. Now, I am someone who thrives on change. In the heat of a moment I will drop almost anything in order to have a new experience, never remembering the repercussions from the last. Whats amazing are the friendships and experiences I am blessed with in each move, leaving those are no fun. Nevertheless, I'm packing again. I've decided that the only thing I need in this crazy Imovesomewherenewevery6months mode is a constant. Someone once told me "the only thing that is consistent is inconsistency" and I couldn't agree more. But I can't help wishing I had a Penny. For those that watch the tv phenomenon Lost, you know what I mean. Desmond, Penny's Irish lover, is time travelling. The only thing that can get him back to where he's supposed to be is Penny. She has been constant through his life. I then realized, I DO! Sure, I'm a cheeseball, but Gods my constant. He's been there through all of my moves, whether I wanted Him or not. And He will be there in my next twelve moves at least. Sure he's not a short, hairy Irishman, and I'm not a time traveller, but at least I've got a constant.

My life as an intuitive tutee

Nine out of ten girls have denied a kiss at least once in their lives. Sure, I made up that statistic but its bound to be true. I went through a phase where I was determined not to deny a kiss. I felt bad, if a guy was going to go out on a limb, put aside his pride in order to kiss me, why shouldn't I let him win? Well, this theory turned out to be a bit of a dud. Turns out, there are many men who aren't really forsaking their pride as much as they are just looking for some sweet blond action.
If you've ever seen the overdramatic teen sensation series the O.C, you'll see that this story could be an episode. After I had broke up with my boyfriend of a year and a half, I almost immediately made friends with this other gentleman. We had hung out a few times and hit it off quite swimmingly. One night, I had asked my ex-boyfriend to come over and help with my math homework. Well as he was helping/ doing my homework my phone starting ringing. It was Jay, the guy I'd been talking to. I ignored his phone calls and went back to my math problems. My phone kept ringing and my ex, was now wondering what was going on. So I ran into my bedroom to turn my phone off. Just then I heard a tapping at my window. I looked out and there was Jay. Meanwhile my newly exed boyfriend was doing my math homework, one room over. I picked up my phone ran into the bathroom and said, "I'm with my tutor, I'll call you later". I had just dodged a BIG bullet. My ex asked who it was and I shrugged it off. Still not sure who my feelings belonged to, I said goodnight the ex. We talked by the car like we always used to, and he kissed me goodnight. I went back inside my room, relieved. Only moments later, I heard more rocks hitting my window. Jay was outside. I flipped him the bird and ran downstairs. We met at the park across from my place. As we chatted on the playground bridge, he went for a hug. He did the hug and look at me maneuver, but I didn't really think he would try anything fresh. Well, we were talking in this hug and he went in for a kiss. Almost instinctively I turned my head. I didn't even plan it but I'd just instinctively dodged a moment. I was surprised by my own actions and began to laugh. Jay was staring at me in disbelief. I looked him in the eye and apologized. He then went in for another kiss and again without thinking, redirected to the cheek. At this point I was laughing hysterically, hug still in tact, I was both pointing and laughing in his face. Bewildered, Jay just stared at me. After a couple of minutes I apologized again and he walked off muttering something about how that'd never happened to him before. I wanted to say me neither but... I was still laughing. I can't really tell you why. Next week on the O.C, Jodi figures out what she wants.

My life as an awkward airfare

There is something fantastic about airports. For some reason there is always an air of romance. Every time I walk through the terminal of an an airport, whether coming or going, there is always a man with a big bouquet of flowers, a woman itching to see the man she loves, kids running around waiting for daddy. No fail, every time I fly I think of two things. a) I hope we crash on some remote Island and have to fight the others and b) I hope when I get off the plane there's a man waiting, ready to wrap me in his arms, twirl me around and give me an extremely inappropriate public display of affection. Now, I hear your supposed to have a boyfriend for said action but i'm not fussy.
Knowing my love for the airport scene, an ex of mine planned to pick me up with the whole bit but unfortunately, my mom told him the wrong terminal. There was one day though, by which the airport was not the epitome of romance and love. It was a "hell" of a hot day in Virginia. I had just finished summer school and couldn't wait to get back to Phoenix. Just before getting into my airport sweats (I always freeze on airplanes), I jumped in a pool and still wet got into the car. A close buddy of mine offered to drive me two hours to the Richmond Airport. We had quite a lovely chat the whole way. We stumbled on the topic of dating and I explained my views, which at the time was 'never will I ever'. We continued our journey and finally made our arrival to Richmond. I lugged my two large suitcases, duffel, purse and longboard to check in. Come to find out, I was two pounds over. At this point I'm already dying of a heat stroke, you could cut the humidity with a spoon, and I was tired and aggravated from not sleeping at all the night before. Not only did I have to pack for the summer but I had to pack up my entire house because I was moving out that day. We finally moved around enough stuff and I was off to my gate. I gave my friend an appreciative hug and headed to security. It was Friday evening and the security line was filled with overworked businessmen. Halfway through the line, I'm sweaty, tired, grumpy and already sick of dragging fifty pounds of luggage around. All of a sudden I hear "Jodi!". I turn around just as the security line is moving again. I adjust my belongings and reply "yes". My gentleman friend had decided that this was the time to confess his feelings. Now? i thought to myself, just after I explained my disdain for dating. In a full airport, while I'm trying to move my shit from a to b. Clearly sweaty, tired and grumpy and now nauseated and embarrassed, 200 businessmen are staring at me, not only waiting for me to move my fifty pounds of luggage but kinda waiting for my response. I again move my stuff through the line and say. "Thanks....(pause) hey I think I left my phone in your car", this last part by the way was not true. I now feel awful. This guy drove two hours for nothing and will now have a two hour ride home to think about it. Flabbergasted, our gentleman friend looks at me and says "I'll go look, if I find it I'll call your mom". I say bye and thank him again. I was just about to faint from what I suppose was a combo of being tired, sweaty, a case of nausea and now shock. The business man behind me mutters "tough break" and I realize that I've made the hugest mistake of my life. I jump the rope and run through gate B. False. Still feeling awful, I call him, tell him I'm really sorry for not responding appropriately. I let him know that I'm still not into dating and that his friendship means the world. To my surprise, he's still my friend! Although it wasn't quite a movie moment, it came pretty close. Kudos to you airport man!

His life as the little lady's tramp

My family is disfunctional but they come by it honestly. Its gotta be in the genes somewhere. The stories I COULD tell are mostly disturbing. We've all inherited a very sick sense of humor. When someone falls, we DeJongs will be the first to fall down laughing, and we aren't laughing with you. I've had the pleasure of living two summers with my Aunt, uncle and their three kids. All three are adorable little munchkins, but the stories they come home with are ridiculous. My cousin Tayah, who looks almost identical to my 6 year old picture, has quite a complex already. She's been told that she knows everything. She refuses to believe that a brown cow is actually a cow but rather a horse. Being that we are dutch, she believes that all girls should have long blond hair, if they are otherwise, they are ugly. Well, after a visit back to Canada her mom told me a story that proves she is a DeJong. At school all her buddies were putting rocks in their pockets (no idea why), but the teacher told them all to dump them out. When Tayah went to grab her jacket in the classroom at the end of the day, tons of rocks fell out. Instead of responding like a normal 6 year old, she simply said "who put those in there?" Last summer, my younger brother was a manny for the three kids. They spent days swimming and playing outside. As the story is told, one day my large brother was jumping with all three kids on the trampoline and landed on Tayahs leg. Not only sending her flying but breaking her leg with his land. Most people would find this sad, maybe even shed a tear. My family, laughed and to this day make fun of him for breaking a leg, not his own. If you had the chance to ask Tayah what happened to her leg she'd say "Josh did it".

My life as a tell & kiss

The kiss and tell is always a problem, especially if your trying to keep your lips sealed... but the worst is the tell and kiss. I'd say I'm an average girl, I look average, talk average, I'm averagely smart and an average thinker. This all said, I don't think I'm over stepping any boundaries by saying that girls don't like to be warned before kissing. I had gone out with this guy a couple of times. He was smart, cute, and very grown up. He even took me on a date to the cheesecake factory where we ate cheesecakes for dinner (yes multiple cheesecakes). After hanging out at a friends house he was ready to DTR (define the relationship). He pulled me outside with a sort of suave debonair look. After telling him that I wasn't interested in dating and would have loved to date him if it weren't for the timing (my classic line), he proceeded to say "Jodi, I'm going to kiss you". Now, I'm not the type of girl to dash a guys hopes, or deny a kiss for that matter, but something came over me. He didn't really spring for a kiss or even move in, he should have said "someday, Jodi, I'm going to kiss you". So I was left there waiting and wondering."You better be damn sure that I'm gonna return that kiss before you try", I retorted. I'm not even sure where sauce like that came from. I'm normally a mild-mannered and passive girl. He would've had a better chance had he just jumped to action rather than warn me in advance. The thing is, if a girls got time to think about something, she will. Chances are, after she does, something will go wrong. The lesson to be learned here is never let a woman think. To this day I wonder why I didn't kiss Ben.

My life as an unsullied kisser

Everybody's first kiss is memorable, but some really stand out in a crowd. MY first kiss was a little bit MORE than magical! I've mentioned previously that I grew up in Canada. Well, winters in Canada are never LESS than freezing. I was part of a church group and a bunch of 'church kids' were having a Christmas party one blistery Friday night. After watching Ripley's Believe it or Not's "girl that cries glass" twelve times over and attempting to master pool, in waltzed my 7Th grade sweetheart, Drew. We'd chatted and maybe even hung out a couple of times since our Jr. high romance ended. He was your classic jock, and I, well I'm not sure what I was but I'm sure it was good cause he was heading my way. All nonchalant he whispered "wanna go outside" or something to that affect. I was too blown away by his beige puffy vest and sweet cologne to remember the words, so I followed innocently. To my disappointment we were followed by my brothers best friend. As we approached Drew's car he opened his trunk, took two bottles out and started walking. Across the street from the house we were at was a golf course. The course was closed for the winter, so we took a walk through the plains. The scene was immaculate, snow covered hills lit by the stars, the smell of Christmas in the air, and two bottles of Lord knows what with my 7th grade sweetheart and ... Zack. We strolled over to a wooded area. Still not sure what I was doing exactly, Drew passed me a bottle (which i then learned was Vodka). Without thinking I took a swig and realized that this was a potent beverage. Disgusted by its taste I asked "what is that?". I passed the bottle to Zack and Drew passed me another. I took another sip of something tasted quite similar to hairspray (rum). I definitely didn't like either of which I was handed so I passed both bottles back. Both bottles circulated back to me so I obligingly took some more sips. This circulation continued until the bottles were done. I started to feel a bit dizzy, like I was in a haze. Zack decided to trek through the woods and Drew decided to take me for a walk. After climbing a hill and throwing a few snowballs both my body and lips were numb, but for completely different reasons. When out of the blue I fell, Drew picked me up and held me tight. Things were still hazy but I do remember his face getting closer and closer. I was still oblivious to the situation at hand, not anticipating anything at all. Nothing could have prepared me for the interaction I was about to experience. I had been in a couple situations where kissing was an option and I chickened out, but this time I was taken by surprise. When all of a sudden the good looking, vest wearing lad put his lips on mine, I realized that I could not feel them. On top of that, it quickly came to my attention that I hadn't any idea of what to do once your lips touch. Now, I later found out that Drew had NOT partaken of the awful substances from earlier that evening, so his account may be different. I do remember standing in the beautiful snow-covered hills with my mouth open. Just open. I did not move my lips or head, I just stood there. After a couple seconds I recall saying "you should probably teach me" as I fell over yet again. At this point I began to walk away, back to the Christmas party (which I forgot to mention was hosted by my parents best friends). As I hap-hazardly strolled across the busy street I was quickly aided by the hero of the night, Drew. He took me inside, now wet, from falling in the snow on numerous occasions, and brought me downstairs. As I was about to nod off, he decided to take me home. I remember walking into my house, I saw my parents watching Seabiscuit and walked up to my room. Unfamiliar with my new state of mind, I wrote on my hand 'kissed drew' in bright green ink and fell asleep. I had had my first kiss and was determined to remember it! ... and I did.

My life as a romanced rapunzel

Virginia is for lovers and I can prove it. Before moving to Virginia I had met a gentleman named Jarred, a both intriguing and charming fellow. We became friends almost immediately, hanging out with his best friend Chase and my buddy Leslie. We'd been chatting a while and getting a little friendly, he even tried to kiss me! (Tried being the main verb in that sentence). Regardless, once I'd moved to Virginia we had continued conversing. Our phone calls would consists of weekly updates and flirtatious chitter chatter. I would always say "you should come over" or "when are you coming to visit?" And on a bi-regular basis he would say " look out your window". He was a wildly impulsive guy so I'd always look, even though logically I knew he wouldn't actually travel 2000 miles from Phoenix. One morning in late October I got a phone call. Jarred woke me up and said "look out your window". At this point I was newly awakened and not happy about it so I refused to obey said command. It was a couple days before Halloween and I'd decorated my windows with pumpkins. "Do you have pumpkins or bats on your window?" Jarred asked. I shot upright in disbelief, there was no way that he had come to Lynchburg, Virginia to surprise me at 9 am on Monday morning. I refused to fall for this malicious act of trickery, this was a new low. After some manipulation I opened the window and saw Jarred, there in the flesh, standing outside my second floor window. Like a true lady I screamed "Holy shit Jarred, holy shit shit shit!" Obviously shocked and still on the phone, I continued bantering the same four letter word that is banned from Liberty's campus. "Aren't you coming down?" Jarred asked. I hung up, continued muttering that same word (which by the way my mother taught me), and ran down to Leslie's room. Leslie freaked out, threw a coat on and we ran downstairs.
The boys stayed for a week and we enjoyed many adventures. Liberty's campus forbids both gentlemen and ladies to congregate in a dorm together, not even for visitation. So we had them pose as maintenance in order to see our rooms. Throughout the week the boys slept in the back of their truck, bathed in the creeks and ate taco bell! We visited DC and on our way back, got lost and pulled in to what we thought was a parking lot to sleep. When we woke up there were flashing lights and a police officer out the window. Chase had slept in his sleeping bag under a tree. Jarred, Leslie and I napped in the truck. To our surprise, the parking lot was actually a preschool, and its attendee's weren't allowed to play outside on account of the miscellaneous vehicle parked just outside the playground. After tapping a few times, the officer thought Chase was a drunk and Jarred a pimp. Once we cleared the air and found our way back to Lynchburg we had already broken some classic Liberty rules, the last of which was an on-campus kiss.

My life as hatorade gatorade

After I moved to Arizona I found a group of fabulous girlfriends. We lived life like the MTV show Laguna Beach, sauntering around town, preying on boys, pranking, blasting country jams, dancing and going to church. We had weekly girl nights where we'd dress up, go to dinner and drive around town. One evening in particular we'd done our nightly duties and settled down at Ashley's place. We were joking around and Kristy locked me and Ashley out of the house. We were out there for a good bit when I realized just how badly I had to pee. We had already tried to get in at all entrances, we'd banged on the door and tried to fit through the doggie door. We made it into the garage and started banging on the door screaming things like, "We have to pee!!", "open up or else!" and what not. The girls were not having it and I was about to explode, or implode, however, I had no bathroom facility nearby. I wasn't about to pee outside, I'm a lady, and besides, last time I did that I got it everywhere. So I searched around the garage for something to pee in. The only thing I found was a lemon-lime Gatorade bottle. I did my business and when we finally were allowed back inside, I brought the bottle with me. I certainly didn't want Ashley's parents thinking it was Gatorade. As I was walking in Kristy said, "where'd you get that?". I explained to her that I really did have to pee and that I'd done so in the bottle. She didn't believe me, so I urged her to try it. Well, she opened the bottle and smelled my pee. She said, "its not pee Jodi, come on!" I told her to drink it but she wouldn't, so I dumped it. Moral of the story, it would've been more ladylike to use a tree.

My life as a sad souvenir

There a few things in life that I hold dear
faith, hope and love and a good souvenir
this song tells a story of some good ol friends
whose friendship would soon come to an end

Florida would set the stage for this song
the trip was sweet but it didnt last long
the vacation ended before you could think it
and all that I wanted was one little trinket

a small souvenir to remember the days
of beaches, kites, bubbles and waves
It wouldnt take long to purchase said gift
I'd be quick as a bunny, my legs would be swift

But Jed, Jake and Jordan said no to my plea
They laughed and giggled and made fun of me
cracking jokes left and right at my cry for a token
we left pensacola my dreams were all broken

So now i'm in lynchburg singing this tune
I won't forgive them at least until june
just one thing could turn this all around
the one thing that turns my frowns upside down

A souvenir, memento, reminder or keepsake
any trohpy as along as its not fake
to bring back my memories of Spring break 09
if you three could do this i'm sure i'd be fine...

Loveeee Joooodddii

My life as a handbag hasbeen

Preface: This story will confirm the reasoning's behind my mothers night terrors.
PS. Mom, don't read this.. its for your own good.

I am an optimist by nature. I am naive and easily distracted. In my senior year of high school I'd joined a fashion class. Nearing the end of the semester, we the fashion students went on a field trip to L.A. Our trips itinerary consisted of visits to L.A's finest fashion institutes and museums, shopping, fashion shows, shopping, Disney, shopping, Rodeo Dr. and Hollywood, shopping and more shopping. (Side note: this is where I solemnly swear I started the stretchy sparkle belt trend). None of my fashion friends were going on this trip so I was flying solo. On the plane to L.A I had made three friends. None of whose names I can remember. Nevertheless we instantaneously became shopping buddies. The three had been friends previously, so tagging along was the name of my game. I was often left behind when something sparkly caught my eye. Realizing that I didn't share in their group commitment, the girls kept a weather eye out for my disappearances. I was entering a very chic Chanel phase where I was befuddled by anything with a "C" on it. Earlier that day I'd found a pair of very classy, very fake, yet very Chanel, spring collection sunglasses, a pair of earrings and a wallet. As we were walking through an alleyway, bound for the next shop, I was dreaming of the perfect Chanel outfit. I was interrupted by an intuitive Latino gentleman. "Would you like to buy a purse?" the gentleman asked. Well of course I would like to buy a purse I thought to myself. "umm.. what kind of purse?" I said shyly. "Whatever you want" he said, "Dooney and Bourke, Prada, Chanel" "Chanel!?!" I squealed. How did he KNOW I'd been looking for one all day. "Coom these way" the Latino man gestured. I followed, pondering where our travels would lead us. "Into my van" the Latino man said, pulling my arm ever so sternly. Hesitating a moment, I wondered why these 'superpurses' would be locked away in this big, no-windowed, rusty white van. As we were approaching the open van I heard my new friend yelling at me. She ran to my side and said "lets go!". The Latino man was disturbed by her presence and pulled yet again at my arm. She did the same, pointing at our now large group of friends at the end of the alley and hurried me away. The poor, lacking in busy savvy Latino man quickly turned away. I asked my new friend why we were in such a hurry. As we walked, she explained that I had been rapidly approaching a very hostile situation in which I would no longer be present at the next days fashion show. Completely unaware of said hostile happenings, I looked back to find that the Latino gentleman's van was empty. He was definitely not selling purses.

My life as a hubub's hooligan

You'd never guess it by looking at me, but I'm dangerous. That could be true, but probably not.
I've previously stated my lack of driving skills. Well this story is another living testament to my lack of road rules. Although I can't remember the reason, I had somehow pissed off my parents enough for them to disable my vehicle, literally. They did something so that it wouldn't start. When I let them know that I had a math final and I really needed to get to school, my mom let me borrow her Durango. I was as usual, already late for my math final, I was pissed about my cars disability and crying cause my mom and I had just finished the royalist of rumbles ending in "I think you should just go back to Canada Jodi". On the 10 minute drive to Chandler Gilbert Community College I had managed exceed the speed limit by about 40 mph. I was going 80 in a 45. It was about 9:30 on April 20th. A chipper motor cop pulled me over. I pulled myself together, and rolled down the window, copper said "have you any idea how fast you were going?" "no sir" I meekly answer. He takes a look at me and says "ma'am can you step out of the car please with your hands behind your head?" In retrospect I can see how I might look suspicious, puffy eyes, sparkly t-shirt, math books strewn about the car at 9:30 on the morning of national weed day, I get it. But this cop really had it in for me. He had me walk a line, breathalyze, point and flex while balancing on one foot, he checked my tongue and eyes, had be say my alphabet backwards, count backwards in increments of 8 and asked me a series of questions like, have you had any illegal drugs in the past month? week? day? no?. He then called for back-up had my mom's car searched and had me pat down. This process put me at 10:30, my final was over. I got my first ticket and was told to appear in court for criminal speeding. A couple weeks later in court I was as usual late, but I had an accomplice. We sat down beside each other with little contact. An hour later I looked over and gestured a hello, the gentleman smiled, acknowledging my gesture. I then realized that this gentleman had two tear drops beside his eyes. Thinking that he had to be some wanna be gangster, I gingerly asked "so what are your tear drops for?" His face immediately dropped, "you can see them can you?" he said. "Yep, what are you in some kind of gang?" I said with a hint of sarcasm. "Uh huh" the gentleman answered. I asked him if this 'gang' was local, and he told me he was from Fresno AND that his gang's name was the Bloods. Now I may be a white suburbian, but I do know a bit about the Bloods and Crips, and tear drops mean murder. Still thinking that this guy is playing cool, I continue to question his statements. Asking him what his position within the gang was and why he had joined. He answered my questions and then lifted his shirt revealing a burnt bloods emblem that resided on his stomach. I then realized that this was no tall tale, he was a legitimate 'G'. Trying to now keep MY cool I say "yea my boyfriend and I play bloods and crips in ping pong", this statement was true but definitely not appropriate. Now that I'd got his complete life story, he felt the need to return the favor and I suddenly felt the need to leave. As he started asking questions I quickly became more and more ambiguous. He then asked, "hey do you drive a white bug?" I started to think, wow, I'm the next tear drop, I'm done. My throat got tight and I said "maybe". I began to feel bad for him, he was clearly going to jail after this conversation and he was trying to make a friend. After discussing religious beliefs(which by the way, his god is a coin that lives in his wallet) and hobbies, he asked for my number. I got his instead and finished my courtly business. He offered to scare my friends and I thought, man this guy should come to church, betcha no one invites him to go. So I told my mom, and she took the phone number and tore it up. To this day I get random phone calls from a friends pretending to be my gang friend.

My life as a driving hazard

Black people only eat fried chicken, cops love donuts, red heads are irrational... all are stereotypes. The ones I fit into are stupid blond and bad girl driver. Unfortunately I prove them right. I have no sense of direction, I've got an awful feel for the road and don't seem to pick up on driving common sense.
I volunteered myself to pick up my aunt and uncle from the airport. They had an Armada at the time, which is a huge honking vehicle. I was driving along the highway, bopping to some tunes and chatting on the phone. To give you a little background, my home in Phoenix is 20 minutes from the airport. Well, not only did I get lost on my way to the airport, but I made a 20 minute trip into an hour long driving extravaganza. After getting off and on to four different highways I realized that I was indeed going the wrong way. I quickly got off the highway and proceeded to get back on the opposite direction. As another side note, it was now rush hour traffic. As I was getting back onto the highway, my "drivers intuition" kicked in and I suddenly felt like I was going onto an off ramp. So as quick as a bunny, I turned the car around while on the ramp. Unfortunately my intuition was wrong, I was now going off the on ramp... in rush hour traffic... in a giant Armada. With cars beeping and staring at the little blond girl in this big vehicle trying to get off a clearly marked on ramp I quickly realized that I couldn't just "slip out" of this situation. As luck would have it, this area was also under construction. So I did what any larger vehicle driver would do and ran over a couple of cones and just sat in the under construction area. Meanwhile, all of metropolitan Phoenix is laughing, pissed and honking their horn at the idiot who drove off the on ramp. Once I regained the confidence to drive, I turned myself around and headed back for the airport. Picked up my aunt and uncle, 45 minutes late and still to this day have not told them that I nearly totalled their car on an on ramp.

My life as a pranking warlord

After our box trick exravaganza, the girls and I realized that we'd been missing out on a whole new world of pranking. We continued terrorizing Liberty's campus with different pranks in the name of good fun. Among some of our regular stunts were pretending to be R.A's, asking students who were clearly minding their own business to please give up their student ID's. Taking random surveys under the aliases of Liberty television characters. Joining strangers in various sports, telling our teammates we were all twins from Manchester. Randomly belting out the love duet from Moulin Rouge. Creating a quartet of barber shop girls who serenade collegians and Liberty employees etc. Our favorite of pranks was the cafeteria food fight. It would always start small, and as a general rule, its starts with a sweet. Abby and I would choose cake as our dessert du jour, get into a little tiff and end up shoving cake in each other faces, rubbing it on our arms etc. Always creating a scene, sometimes we'd get folks to join in by either including them in the argument or shoving cake in their direction. All of these pranks were executed well, but the best prank of all (besides the box) was another Liberty week end. At the entrance of main campus is a little hut, which I assume was used as a gatekeepers hut from back in the day. Well, we set up camp there and waited as Liberty students were driving on campus. Each car was stopped (by us), and told that due to recent safety precautions, each individual would have to show proof of student hood by means of a Liberty student ID. We had a line up waiting to get into campus as we checked the IDs of all passengers and drivers.

My life as a fun filled faker

My second year of college, I decided to transfer to Liberty University in Lynchburg, Virginia. During the first weeks of the semester, I was getting a feel for the university and is diverse set of rules and regulations. For those of you who aren't familiar with Jerry Falwell's christian university, it is one rule away from becoming a military institute. I'd already been reprimanded for not making my bed, being late to church, inappropriately clothed (which turns out to be half of my wardrobe) and for a poor choice in words. One thing I was conscious of was our twelve o' clock curfew.
I had flown into Lynchburg Regional Airport alone, sent most of my belongings via UPS to my dorm and carried my wardrobe in my two suitcases. The airport lost my luggage and evidently UPS did the same. Needless to say my first week at Liberty consisted of borrowing from strangers, permanently locking myself out of my dorm and realizing that cafeterias are not 24 hr. A couple weeks later, UPS delivered a giant box of my stuff. After clearing its contents one Friday night I decided to throw the box away. Three girlfriends followed me out to the dumpster. On our way we saw a happy couple, being the mischievous group we are, we went up to them and dared them to stick their hands in the box. We kind of shook it a bit and scared them , kids stuff really. They were not too pleased and noticed that we were all new, so they told us to go to "late skate" which is liberty ordained ice skating after curfew. In a tissy, the four of us got on our scarves and gloves in the middle of august and started walking to the other side of campus. Realizing the long hot journey ahead, and box still in hand, we did what any normal Libertian would do. We pretended it was really heavy and waited for a car to ask if we needed a hand. This plan worked famously. I was holding the box, two gentlemen pulled over, asked if we needed a hand and we got a ride to the other side of campus. Well. I was sitting in the back with this not so heavy, heavy box. Upon arrival, the gentlemen went to grab this supposedly weighty box from me. I declined and started out of the car. One gentleman grabbed the box from me, and then realized that this whole act of chivalry was under false pretenses. Yes.. we had lied for a ride. Immediately my friend Abby falls to the ground laughing. I was stuck there trying to figure out how to explain myself. The only words that exited my mouth were "surprise!" The two fellas left us there only to find that we had been lied to, no late skate. We then had ten minutes to get back to the other side of campus in order to keep our slates clean. We walked into the gym, box still in hands and continued our charade. We stepped it up a notch. I was holding the box stumbling behind the other three girls, to make the situation seem worse, they were yelling at me, "hurry up we're late!" and "seriously jodi, your taking too long!" While I was pretend struggling to keep this box from falling as we walked. Several gym brats tried showing off their muscles by grabbing the box and were severely disappointed, but the gentlemen that was taken for the longest ride was our knight in shining armor. My final act of theatrics was to properly fall with the "heavy box". This was sure to get us a ride back. In order to properly understand this story, let me explain the setting. Liberty's gym has a long hall of windows in order to get into the gym. My last show began in said hallway. I am stumbling, fumbling with said weighty box, being yelled at by three careless friends. Halfway through the hallway, I see a young man enter. Knowing that this was my time to shine, I catch his eye and with a look of sheer desperation, I begin to slowly collapse (box still in hands). Young man races down the long windowed hallway to my rescue, only to find that the girl he was saving was a fraud. Luckily he still brought us back to our dorm just in time. The lesson learned from this bit is.. I'm really good at pretending.

My life as a foreign french kid

Something you should know about is my appreciation for pretending. I'm an avid pretendee. When I fly alone, I often adopt an accent or make up a story about a job I don't have, or a story I've wasn't in. When waiting tables, I generally add a Spanish twang or southern tint to my vernacular. When I was a receptionist I made up stories of romantic husbands, unruly children and home owners associations. And on the fly I will adopt a new set of mannerisms and an English accent. During high school I encountered another who shared my flair for the dramatics. The main character in my proposee story, Caleb. We started dating at the end of senior year. He went to Mesquite high school and I went to Gilbert. I can't quite remember how this idea came about but one day we decided that I should visit his school. So I did. Caleb picked me up and I went to his school disguised as a french foreign exchange student. We both parle francais un peu so it was easy to pull off. All was going well until we arrived in his history class. Because I was a foreign exchange student, we played it off that my English was bad, Caleb had to translate. While in this particular class Caleb told his fellow students that I'd tried to eat his cat (un chat)that morning among other things. I didn't speak English, so this fun little fact could not be rebuttaled. A friend of Caleb's, believing that I could not understand l'anglais, started to talk about me, enticing Caleb to take me to prom among other perverse suggestions. Blushing un peu I maintained composure. A following day Caleb came to my school as a Canadian exchange student. Our plan didn't work out as well because Caleb was on our rivals baseball team. His identity was uncovered and I was in trouble. The time for prom came, and I WAS attending prom with Caleb, but not as a no-english speaking french chick. I was chatting away (in English I might add) when we stumbled across a very stunned young man from my foreign french kid day. He was un peu embarrassed that I'd heard his whole spiel and a little ticked that he'd been tricked.

My life as a poopy pants pea brain

In your lifespan you encounter acquaintances, friends, best friends and SUPER FRIENDS! (note that SUPER FRIEND cannot be said in a monotone manner, you must beam SUPER FRIEND as though announcing a hero!) My story has two heroes!
The setting is a lovely camp in northern Arizona. Every year, East Valley Bible Church (the best church in the west) takes their high school kids up north for a getaway week end. Although it was my senior year of high school, this was my first time. Ashley (SUPER FRIEND numero uno) and I were gallivanting about past curfew causing a ruckus. We were hopping from room to room listening to stories and what not. We came to a room where scary stories were told, turned gray with fear, and decided it would be best to sleep in Ashley's single bunk together. Nothing less than usual for us two, I woke up in the morning and started getting ready for the day. I grabbed my tooth brush and paste and headed for the community bathroom. As I walked out of the room, one young lady said "nice pajama pants Jodi". They were new Roxy pj's that I got for Christmas. I thought to myself, "why yes, yes they are nice" and continued down the hall towards the restroom. I was stopped yet again by another young lady who smiled and said "niiiicccee pants!!". I mean, the pants were pink, I guess they deserved the praise, so I kept on trucking. I reached the bathroom, many ladies staring at my pants. Feeling particularly fashionable, I took a look at the side of my pants and saw a brown streak, just as I noticed our second protagonist enters, Kristy (SUPER FRIEND numero dos). "What happened to your but?" cried Kristy with a hint of disdain. I take a quick peek in the mirror and to my horror, find a giant brown stain splattered across my bum. Baffled by this mysterious substance I take a recap of the events leading to that moment. Had I brushed against something dirty? or spilled something? the stories from the previous night weren't THAT scary, I doubted that I'd excreted any waste in my sleep. I rushed back to the bedroom only to find a giant brown stain, identical in color, embedded into Ashley's sleeping bag. The only thing left to do was to smell the brown goo. Praying it wasn't an excrement, I knelt toward the icky blob. Sure enough there was a Hershey wrapper hidden under the blankets. My warm scared body had melted two Hershey bars in the duration of my sleep, causing a beautiful leakage on both my pants and Ashley's sleeping bag. To this day, the sleeping bag will forever be stained.
Special thanks to Kristy for staying true to her form, always telling me when I've left a mess and to Ashley who continues to reap havoc with me!

My life as an exploited extrovert

One of America's most treasured traditions, the senior picture, is one to be had. My family moved to Phoenix, Arizona at the end of my junior year of high school. New to this American scene, I was told to embark on the journey that is the senior picture. No big deal, I thought to myself, 5 minutes in some boring chair and we're done. WRONG!, 2 hours, four outfit changes and additional toodling later I had finished my senior pics. These pictures were taken in the summer and I'd hardly remembered the stint. I had started a fresh senior year at Gilbert High School. Only days into my semester did I notice posters all around school. These posters were advertising senior pictures. Quite happy with myself for getting that photo magic out of the way early, I continued on with my day. I took a double take at the poster I passed, there was someone familiar on this 27 by 40 sheet of paper. Why it was me, I looked around to see if anyone was looking at them. No one seemed to be paying much attention. So I walked on just to see that every single wall in every single hallway had a large poster of my face on it. "no one will notice" I thought to myself, "I'm new here and besides my hair is curled in these pictures, I never wear curls to school." While this statement might have been true for these small wall posters, it was definitely not true for the more than life sized, gigantic portrait of my face hanging off the balcony in our schools atrium, enticing all my fellow classmates to do as I did. Convincing myself that I was just a bug on the wall(no pun intended) I chose to ignore these poster, I walked to my class. I sat down quietly and adjusted my skirt, the young gentleman beside me whispered, "we made out last night". This was definitely not true, I was at home eating ice cream, watching Disney channel, I mean cool shows all night. A little flushed I said "no I don't think we did". He leaned in further and said "oh yeeeah, we slept together too". This was not true either, the only man I'd ever slept with was Waddlesworth, my stuffed penguin (and technically he's a bird). I chose the high road and ignored this ghastly lie, just as the young gentleman pulled out a poster from his bag and kissed it. In fact, the young man wasn't a fabricator, he did sleep with AND kiss my face.

My life as starry-eyed proposee

There once was a boy named Caleb, and a girl named Jodi. Of course, this story doesn't start out that way but its cute right?
For our SUPER FRIEND Kristy's birthday, we all went to Disneyland for the week end just before Christmas. We drove to Anaheim, California in a giant Mormon bus and spent all day Saturday at Disney. Once in the park, the thirteen of us trampled the park, hollering at each employee with a legible name tag, singing songs and running from ride to ride. I got lost a guesstimate of twelve times, rode thunder mountain about twenty times and splash mountain approximately six. If you know me in the slightest bit, you'll know that Disney truly IS my happiest place on earth. Making this story even more amazing, in walks our SUPER FRIEND Caleb. The day was progressing, while in line at Fronteirland, Caleb looks at me, pats my stomach and says "honey can you ride this one?" indicating a small being within my gut. Playing along I name the bastard James. Throughout the rest of the day we played pretend and made some friends. At the close of each Disney day is a spectacular firework show and at Christmas time, they have pretend snow. In the height of this romantic scene, fireworks a burst, fake snow a falling, Caleb gets down on one knee and proposes a fake marriage. We are among a giant crowd, and as I look around, this crowd is staring directly at me. The man in front of me taps his woman on the shoulder gesturing in my direction. She starts to cry and I share in their enchanting moment. I conclude with an abounding yes and we make off to "its a small world". Everyone watching our every move, we'd achieved the desired reaction from our Disney audience. We continue on, as we are about to leave this Disneyland dream day, Caleb stands in front of the giant Christmas tree on main street Disney. He gets down on one knee again and proposes yet another fake marriage. This time, our audience has tripled. Folks are videotaping, girls are gasping and awing at this fairy-tale scene, and I the gushing fake bride to be am awestruck by the romantic man below me. Again I answer yes and we, the happy couple, walk off famously. This fake romance later turned into a real life romance minus the baby.

My life as yesterdays news

Since I can remember I've fainted at the drop of a hat. I'm now used to it so I can feel when the spell is about to begin. It generally occurs when I don't eat or when someone hurts me. No big deal, it lasts a couple minutes.
So it was my first semester of college. It was Halloween and I was in a math class with a teacher who would blatantly tell me that I wasn't smart enough for her class. I felt a spell coming on so I politely asked to leave. The teacher, who despised my blond existence, said no. I waited and hoped it would pass, knowing that it wouldn't I quickly got up, I had just made it out the door when things started to get a bit fuzzy. I fainted outside the door of my math classroom. I woke up slowly to see a young man standing over me, he whispered "are you OK?", I wasn't coherent enough to answer but I heard him call for a security guard. I wanted to say no, its okay, this happens all the time but couldn't muster enough energy. The security guard knelt down, thinking I was hopped up on the latest and greatest yelled, "have you been taking drugs?" I passed out again and all of a sudden there was a crowd around me, I was attached to a breathing machine and an old doctor was pulling up my shirt trying to find my core temperature. There was a stretcher and four EMS employees asking questions and telling my fellow collegiates to clear the building. Once the building was cleared I was asked a series of extremely awkward questions like,when was the last time you had sex? when was your last period? are you currently on drugs? Worst of all they explained to me that they'd called my mom and she was on her way. The most caring and irrational of creatures! I regained energy, ate the snickers bar the old doctor gave me and walked outside the B building. My mom was hugging the security guard crying. The next day I walked into class and sat with some buddies, one guy said "did you hear, some girl died in the B building yesterday morning", "yea I heard she was in a coma" chimed another. I then realized that I had died the day before in the B building or maybe I was in a coma...