Until Now Chapter 2

Taylor dropped me at my dorm after our 5 minute tour and 30 minute chinese food break. Its not as big as they make it out to be, nor as beautiful. A funny bit about Taylor, she is the kindest, softest individual but so hard to hit to the core, or maybe her core is just different than mine. As I approached the door to my new flat, I felt cautious. It was uglier than I'd imagined. Cold dark bricks, no sign of a garden or shrubbery, just dirt where the brick ends. I paused a moment to take it all in and reached for the door. I soon found out it was locked. With no one in sight around my barren new home, I waited. About 30 minutes later a girl to opened up the big glass door, I quietly scurried in behind her, trying stupidly to prove that I belonged to this ugly building, even though my heart scarcely believed it. As I approached the 2nd floor I was greeted by a small kenyan girl. She was younger than I and now took the title R.A. Apparently I can't get a key until tomorrow, nor food. I went to room 222, the room I'd so carefully chosen so I wouldn't forget it. Ashley, roomate #1 greeted me warmly, yet coldly at the same time. I got a hello and a smile as she continue to tend to her mac. I sort of imagined a "wow, so tell me new roomie, how was your trip, lets be best friends" type of speach but was now left alone. No cell, no luggage, no blankets, nothing. I was a whole lot less of a person since I left this morning. To explain my current empty situation further, I forgot to mention that the airport has lost my luggage containing every piece of clothing that belongs to me. I opted not to take my cell, believing that I wouldn't need it in college/ my mom didn't let me take mine. And the bedding and decorations I'd shipped from Ikea apparently hadn't arrived either. So here I am, alone with my thoughts, which took me to my departure from Sky Harbour Airport . I didn't sleep last night because I was packing and saying goodbye to friends. I suddenly realized that I hadn't felt nervous... until now. I thought about my jellybean goodbye in the Starbucks parking lot with Jarred. His weak attempt to kiss me one last time was much more endearing than my lack of one from Caleb. I thought about my final vie for his attention and the "sorry you're too late" note he posted on the outside of my window. Its funny how Caleb has always had a way of leaving me hopeful, even in a rejection letter. You expect a hand written note posted to your 2nd floor room to be romantic. Not this one. I guess I deserve it though. I should let whats over be over. Caleb and I dated for year and it ended in January. Well, not really. I can't quite remember who did the breaking but when Jarred took me to his best friends wedding as a date, Caleb took it as dead and done. When he found out I was leaving for Virginia I think he wanted to rekindle our flames but a close friend of ours told him I felt otherwise. I guess he believed her or was finished with me because over the summer he's gained some type of bitter taste towards me, leaving me with remaining feelings. Jarred on the other hand was not one to give up merely on one persons word, not even on many people's words. Virtually all his friends, my friends and even myself told him I was wasting his time. He either doesn't care or doesn't hear because his goodbye was much sweeter than the, "you're too late" note posted on my window. His goodbye involved jellybeans( my favourite candy) and the other type of hand written note. My thoughts were interrupted by two large southern girls. They were making their rounds meeting new girls on the hall. They jumped on my empty bed and gave me the distraction i needed, southern hospitality. And until now... I hadn't smiled in central virginia.

Until Now Chapter 1

Airports hold a heavy feeling, not always a bad heavy feeling but feeling in itself. Whether you're flying in from Buffalo, Monaco, Toronto or Phoenix, the airport is without a doubt a place of meaningful endeavors, wild stories and romance. A place where love is lost, returned, gained and released. A place of renewal, sorrow, romanticism and longing. Sure I'm a bit over dramatic and currently dwelling on my own mixed emotions, but this airport feels different somehow. I've just arrived at Lynchburg Regional Airport in central Virginia. Its about 4 o clock and the flight from Phoenix has pretty well taken me all day. As we were landing i noticed how barren this area is. Could there possibly be a "big university" in the land of what looks like giant broccoli heads? I am immediately overcome with regret for not further researching my new home for the year. I feel a stab of betrayal for Phoenix as I already referred to this place as home.... before I've even disembarked into it. Leslie said this place was magical but I've been here for 5 minutes and just don't see it. It definitely doesn't look like the pictures. As I bring my new Roxy carry on and Mom's pretty Neiman Marcus bag down the staircase of the aircraft, I get a waft of stifling, sticky, yet fresh air. Taylor Trute, "a friend since birth" as we used to say, is waiting for me here. Although she is supposed to be familiar, we haven't really spoken in what seems like years. You grow alot from 16-18, mentally speaking. Her familiar smile and bouquet of flowers brought immediate comfort that unfortunately didn't shadow the disdain I've already stapled on this city. We grab my things and head to campus. Taylor is filling me in on all the things I need to know about Liberty University. The only research I've done is a bit of word of mouth and whatever Taylor's told me, plus I took a look at the website, and it looked good enough to get Mom off my back. So here I am, a sophomore at LU. Taylor tried to take me to the 'Rot' (dining hall) but I apparently was supposed to check in at an orientation days earlier. I played stupid but pre planned to miss it in order to soak up every last breath in Phoenix that I could. Two friends Jenna and Leslie went to it and I called to get the dirty details. So I'm as good as caught up to speed. Jenna and Leslie are the same age but I'm a grade ahead because I grew up in Canada. This fact I will further explain later. The two grew up together but since I moved to Phoenix 2 years ago Leslie and I have become nearly best friends. We didn't all move out here together on purpose. My Mom had asked me to move out a while ago, after the long battles we'd had at home I needed to be on my own, away from her and from Caleb, who we'll get to later too. Anyways, she suggested a christian university far far away. Virginia is clear across the country AND she said she'd pay. Good enough for me. Plus my ex boyfriend Drew attended so I sent an application to transfer. I didn't think I'd actually go through with it until Leslie said she was going. I hadn't heard her mention it until then and it wasn't until then that i announced my departure north as well. She was disappointed not to be having her own pioneering experience but i assured her that pioneering, in my experience, was overrated. She needed to try it with an expert first (me). True enough I've pioneered a bit. I moved schools in grade 6 and then back to the old one again, which is like going to a whole new place where everyone knows your secrets. I went to a high school where none of my friends but Taylor attended. I spent grade 10 touring the United States with my family in an obscene RV. THEN...we moved back to Canada for grade 11. We then moved to Phoenix in February of that same year. Alright I'm not an expert, just well versed. I guess I always thought I was an expert on changing.. until now.

My life as Constitution Ave.Crasher

Since living in Virginia, I've been privileged to spend most of my week ends in the fabulous District of Columbia. Washington is one of the most romantic, high energy places AND its CLEAN yet political. There are very few times that you can put both those words in the same sentence. Over the past couple of years friends from all over have come to visit for the week end. Lynchburg, Virginia doesn't exactly bring the most exciting times, so I normally bring my guests for a little Canadian tour of the heart of America. In February my friends Robby, Alex, Bobby and Tyler came to visit me from Arizona. My vespa doesn't carry a party of six so we borrowed our friend Leslie's car. The day was going smoothly, we'd already seen a bunch of monuments and walked a crazy distance. We parked her car on constitution avenue as we grabbed lunch and saw Abe and some of the War memorials. It was approaching rush hour and we saw a flush of traffic. All of a sudden I had an awful feeling that the place we'd parked was in a tow zone. I started running towards the White House parking and saw that Leslie's Mazda 3 was now hooked up to a tow truck and heading back into the rush hour traffic on Constitution Avenue. My first instinct was to start yelling... so I did. I ran right through the street dodging traffic until I reached the truck. The driver rolled down his window as I begged him to let my car go. He looked at me with a pathetic look that said "if you didn't look so stupid, I'd have ignored you ten minutes ago when I saw you running down the ave." He let the car go and left me with the most relieved feeling EVER! As I recollected myself I looked around and realized I'd started a terrible traffic jam with my shenanigans. After many dirty looks and a loss of some serious nerve I was ready to bring Leslie back her car safely.

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!