(...or the long overdue continuation of Faux Fiancee)
I had to get my wisdom teeth extracted this past summer, and I decided to go home to California so my mom could mother me while I convalesced. It's an eight-hour drive for me to get home, and it's pretty much all desert, so there isn't much to keep a guy's mind busy. Also, my car's CD player doesn't work, so all I had was the radio, and, because Michael Jackson had died the night before, every radio station I came across was playing either Thriller or Billie Jean, it seemed. Come on, people--he's the King of Pop and you can only come up with two songs?
Anyway, somewhere in Nevada, I decided I would give Katie a call--just to see how talking on the phone would work for us. (I hate talking on the phone, so I was a little apprehensive that the awesome week we had just shared would get swallowed up in a summer of infrequent and awkward telephone conversations.) I called her up and we talked for, I dunno, maybe half an hour, and the conversation didn't flow throughout that time but rather came in spurts. I crossed the California border and told her I had to go because I was supposed to call my parents and tell them when I made it that far (this was close enough to the truth: they told me to call periodically and report my progress), so the conversation ended and left me feeling far from confident about the coming weeks.
My parents' house is situated such that cell phone reception is totally unreliable most anywhere on their property. Because of this, the next bits of communication between me and Katie came in the form of a couple of voicemail messages that she left on my phone. But I went for a walk each evening while I was home so we could talk in real time, and our conversations' lengths grew exponentially--half an hour, one hour, two hours (does doubling count as exponential? I'm really bad at math...)--and it wasn't long until our conversations were back to being long and easy. After I got my teeth extracted, I didn't go for walks much, but I started calling her using my parents' landline, and life continued charmingly.
One day, my Dad suggested to me that, since Katie and I were in the same state, I may as well swing by and visit her on my way back to Provo. This was a ridiculous suggestion because that involved adding roughly 7 hours of drive time to my journey. Strangely enough, though, Katie made the same suggestion later that day in semi-jest, and I tentatively agreed to it--not jesting at all but a little worried about the cost of gas. Then--a miracle. My sister who lives in Sacramento but was down visiting my parents for Independence Day (ironic, no?) told me that she really didn't wanna ride the train back and asked me if I'd be willing to give her a ride if she paid for my gas. I have no idea whether she was put up to it by our dad or came up with the idea herself or just honestly didn't want to ride the train, but I took this as a godsend and readily agreed. I called Katie and worked out the details, and it was decided that, on the next Tuesday, I would drive my sister up to Sacramento, go to Katie's place to hang out with her and meet her family, stay the night, and leave the next morning--probably as quickly as possible because we were both certain that this was probably going to be the most social encounter imaginable, what with the whole, "Hey, Mom and Dad, this is the guy I proposed to--blindly--after a comedy show--and now he wants to stay the night and--and--he'll leave first thing in the morning, I promise!" Nevertheless, when faced with the chance to embark upon a brave new world of social faux pas, this little butterfly never backs down--never, I say!--so we went ahead with the plan.
And what happened next is almost as unbelievable as the story of how we met. (Is that poor narrative style? I think it probably is, but I can't help myself sometimes: I just love dramatic suspense--or whatever this is....)
I got to Katie's parents' house around 5pm on Tuesday evening. I walked in and introduced myself to everyone, and then, as I had feared, we stood there just staring at each other, suffused is a palpable haze of awkwardness.
Well, now what?
We were all wondering that, I'm sure, but only one person--the hero of this chapter, perhaps--actually had any idea: Katie's seven-year-old sister Christina. She grabbed my hand and said, "Let me give you a tour of the house!" and dashed the ice to pieces as she dragged me up the stairs. After that, I was very much a part of the family, somehow--so much so that I did not, in fact, leave the next morning, or the morning after that, or even the morning after that. I didn't leave until the mid-morning of Saturday, and then I had to honestly tear myself away because I really didn't want to go. It was fantastic.
The 10-hour drive back to Provo was punctuated with calls to and from Katie. Once I called, and for a good, solid minute before she said hello, all I could hear was her and her family laughing hysterically. I had no idea what to make of it. Turns out they were playing a trivia game, and it was Katie's turn, and she didn't know the answer, and she asked if she could have a lifeline and call me; her mom said, "No, you can't call him. But if he calls in the next five seconds, you can ask him for help"--and I did!
And so I went to Provo, feeling wonderful because of the solidity I had given my friendship with Katie, but feeling more than a little sad that it was now time to settle into its summer hiatus--or at least its summer relegation to phone calls and email.
The morning after I got back to Provo, I got up and went to Church and there met up with a friend that I had not seen in more than a month. He asked me how my life had been in the interim, and I gave him a big, "Well let me tell ya!" and caught him up to speed with the inexplicable awesomeness that was my relationship with Katie. He ate it up, grinning from ear to ear (therefore, I suppose, metaphysically chewing with his mouth open), and then he said something truly amazing: "That's awesome! Hey, I'm roadtripping out to Sacramento with some friends in three weeks; if you want to come, we'd love to have you."
As soon as Church was out, I called Katie to tell her the news and to ask for permission to return. Unfortunately, I got her voicemail, but, being totally unable to hold in my joy, I left my news on her phone. Hours of pacing and wringing my hands passed, and then she called with an answer. I excitedly answered the phone and was greeted, not just by Katie, but by her entire family on speakerphone saying, "Kyle! Come back!"
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Faux Fiancee
So. I joined HumorU, and I performed my first show a couple of weekends ago. Video of my set can be found here. After every show, HumorU has a stack of note cards that people can write a review on to let us know what they thought of the show. Saturday night (which is where that video clip comes from), we got a note card that was so crazy, you'll have to see it to believe it. You can see a scanned copy of it here. You'll have to read that if you want any of the rest of this story to make sense.
Okay. So that's the background; here's the story:
I called her up--mostly to see if this was for real. I figured that either she was joking or this was some trick that someone had played on a roommate thinking, "Haha. This'll be funny. Now Katie will get a really awkward phone call!" But I just couldn't pass up an opportunity like this, so I called the number on the card. I got her voicemail, and it said, "This is Katie's phone. Leave a message and I'll call you back," so I thought, "Well, this phone belongs to Katie. May as well leave a message." So I left a message saying something this:
That was on a Sunday afternoon. A couple of hours later, she called me back, and I answered, "Well hey there!"
"Hey, is this Kyle?"
"Yes it is."
"Hi. This is Katie."
"Well hello."
"Hi. Um. Yeah. I wrote that note."
"Really?? Wow. I'm--I'm flattered. And I have a lot of respect for you because you are bold."
"Yeah," she conceded, "it's a blessing and a curse."
The conversation quickly dried up into an awkward pause.
"So," I said. "What happens now?"
"I threw myself out there," she said "so now it's your turn!"
"Oh! I! Well! Um...."
So we set up a time to meet up on campus at JambaJuice. We were both taking summer classes, and this happened right at the beginning of the last week before finals, so I knew I was going to be swamped with Latin. (I got an A in that class, but the way. I'm so proud of me right now!) So this was a Sunday and we set a date for a Thursday afternoon--almost two weeks away.
Meanwhile, there's a guy in HumorU named Pete, and his little sister (18-years-old) came to the show and thought I was cute and asked Pete to set us up on a date, so the Saturday after I talked to Katie on the phone, I went on a blind date with Erika. Erika was nice, but she's a freshman at BYU-Idaho, so we really didn't have much in common. We had a nice time together, but I don't have any intention of seeing her again.
This had me feeling a little more worried about meeting up with Katie, but I was resolved to go through with it.
Katie and I were going to go out on Thursday, so I called her Wednesday night to solidify plans, and we decided to meet up at JambaJuice at noon.
I got to JambaJuice about ten minutes early and just sat and waited. When I got there, the place was pretty well empty, but then people started pouring in, and about a million girls walked by me in the next 15 minutes. I was going out of my mind! Every time someone walked by, I'd sit up and smile, but the only person who walked up to me was a guy who thought I was there to sell him a chemistry book.
I learned a lot about myself as I sat there waiting. I have always claimed to be affected very little by physical appearances, but it turns out that this is not true: I am a fairly typical guy. As girls walked by, "Oh, please, no!" and "I'd take that" were constant thoughts, and I felt equally guilty about both. Katie showed up about 5 minutes after noon, and I was so relieved at her appearance that I hopped up and hugged her as soon as she said my name--which really isn't my style. I bought her a drink, and we sat and talked for about four hours.
Four hours!
That was Thursday. Friday, nothing happened. Saturday night, I was hanging out with some friends, and Katie texted me, and we had a texted conversation that lasted a really long time--certainly the longest texted conversation I've ever had (not that I do a whole lot of texting; still, it lasted a couple hours, I think). Sunday, I called her up to say hello (she had taught a mission prep class that day, and I wanted to know how it went), and she invited me over to her place, so I went. While we were there, she got a call from a guy in her ward who was cooking stir fry, so we went over and hung out there for a little while. Then I had to leave for a presidency meeting. We idly talked about meeting up later that evening, but it never happened.
Monday after FHE, I was going to watch the 1960 version of The Time Machine with my roommates. Katie texted me to ask what I was doing, and I invited her to come over to meet my roommates and watch an old movie, so she did. We watched the movie, and then the five of us (me and Katie and my roommates) sat and talked until midnight hit, and then she had to leave because of the university's honor code's curfew, so I walked her home. When we got to her place, we stood outside the door and talked for a while, and then we ended up sitting and talking for a while, and we sat and talked until sunrise, and I finally went home a little after 8am.
We had hung out for 10 solid hours!
I went home and crashed into bed, slept for about three hours, and then got up and went to work. After work, I texted her to ask her if she was home, and she was, so I went over to her place at about 6pm and we hung out for a little while. I had a ward bonfire at 8:30, and she came with me to it. We hung out there until the party wound down and then at my place until midnight hit and then we went back and sat on her porched until 3am!
So, Monday night, we hung out for 10 solid hours; Tuesday night, 8 solid hours. Of the 24 hours that made up Tuesday, I spent 13 hanging out with Katie.
This has never happened to me before, readers. You know me; you've read my blog: I go on one or two dates with a girl, and then something ridiculous happens that makes it fall apart. That's why I have more blogs than girlfriends.
Wednesday is my busy day because I'm a part of two clubs that both meet Wednesday night, but I managed to hang out with her for an hour or two in between work and club meetings.
Thursday was my last day in Provo (I went home to celebrate the 4th of July by getting my wisdom teeth extracted), so I wanted to make it awesome. I went to work that morning and by 3pm I was done with everything I had to do before leaving town, so I texted Katie and we got together a little after 4:00. The on-campus art museum has a really cool exhibit right now of Walter Wick (the guy who writes the I Spy books), so we went to that together. We spent a couple of hours looking at the pictures and searching for the hidden things. It was fantastic. Those couple hours were really a turning point for me. Up to that point, everything had just been happening so fast that my head was spinning and all I could think was, "Is this really happening to me? To me? Kyle Jepson? This is happening to Kyle Jepson, and I'm Kyle Jepson??" But as we wandered around that exhibit, I realized that what was happening, crazy though it may be, was pretty stinking cool. Here, for the first time in my life, was a girl I really liked who wasn't avoiding me and wasn't merely tolerating me but genuinely seemed to enjoy my company, and it happened without any effort on my part. I call it a miracle.
Downside: she's from Sacramento and she was heading home for the rest of the summer on Saturday morning. So we had a rip-whirlin' good week, but now we're separated by hundreds of miles.
GLOOM
So we spent a couple of hours at that exhibit, and then I had to go home teaching and we were separated from about 8:15 till about 9:45, but then we met back up and we went with my roommies to Brick Oven Pizza, after which we dropped my roommates and car off at my apartment, and I walked her home.
As we were walking, I got this a text from one roommate that said something like, "If you don't give her at least a quick kiss on the lips or the cheek you will disappoint her and me."
Thanks, man....
I showed her the text, and we both laughed.
We got to her place and sat and talked till about 2am, at which point she said that I should probably get some sleep before my long drive home. Then we both stared at the ground and pondered our impending separation in silence for a while.
"Well," I said. "Let's start with standing up."
"It's cold," she said, taking off the blanket she was wrapped in.
"That's okay," I said. "I'm going to hug you for a really long time."
"Oh," she said. "That isn't forward at all...."
We hugged. For a really long time. Not a really long time, but it was the longest hug I'd ever given up to that point. After it ended, we just stood and looked at each other and said how sad it was that we were leaving, which launched us back into conversation, and we stood and talked for another 5 or 10 minutes before I said that I should probably go.
More sad staring at the ground.
"Okay," I said. "I wanna hug you again."
And then I actually did hug her for a really long time.
"I'm going to miss these nights," I said as we hugged.
"I'm going to miss you!" she said.
"I'm glad about that," I said. "It wouldn't be fair if I missed you a lot and you didn't miss me at all."
"You were supposed to be a jerk," she said. "It was just supposed to be a funny story that ended with, '...but then he turned out to be a jerk, so I never tried that again. The end.'"
The conversation continued, then fizzled, and then the hug ended, and I started slowly, sadly backing away.
"When are you getting your teeth pulled?" she asked.
"Not till Tuesday," I said.
"See?" she said. "You could stay another day!"
"Yeah," I said. "I know. But--" and then I trailed off. If I had been thinking, I would've said something like, "The more time we spend together, the more I'll miss you when you're gone," but I was too sad to be witty.
The awkward good-bye lasted a few more seconds, and then I walked down the stairs and into the pouring rain. I didn't cry, but I made a point of telling Heavenly Father how unfair this all seemed.
THE END
(Not really: look for a continuation soon)
Okay. So that's the background; here's the story:
I called her up--mostly to see if this was for real. I figured that either she was joking or this was some trick that someone had played on a roommate thinking, "Haha. This'll be funny. Now Katie will get a really awkward phone call!" But I just couldn't pass up an opportunity like this, so I called the number on the card. I got her voicemail, and it said, "This is Katie's phone. Leave a message and I'll call you back," so I thought, "Well, this phone belongs to Katie. May as well leave a message." So I left a message saying something this:
Hello! I got this card recently, and it says it's from you. I don't know if you wrote it. This is Kyle Jepson from HumorU, and I did a show last night and, afterward, someone left me note that said, "[read note]." So I'm calling because I think it's funny. Call me back if you wanna: my phone number is [phone number]. Bye.
That was on a Sunday afternoon. A couple of hours later, she called me back, and I answered, "Well hey there!"
"Hey, is this Kyle?"
"Yes it is."
"Hi. This is Katie."
"Well hello."
"Hi. Um. Yeah. I wrote that note."
"Really?? Wow. I'm--I'm flattered. And I have a lot of respect for you because you are bold."
"Yeah," she conceded, "it's a blessing and a curse."
The conversation quickly dried up into an awkward pause.
"So," I said. "What happens now?"
"I threw myself out there," she said "so now it's your turn!"
"Oh! I! Well! Um...."
So we set up a time to meet up on campus at JambaJuice. We were both taking summer classes, and this happened right at the beginning of the last week before finals, so I knew I was going to be swamped with Latin. (I got an A in that class, but the way. I'm so proud of me right now!) So this was a Sunday and we set a date for a Thursday afternoon--almost two weeks away.
This had me feeling a little more worried about meeting up with Katie, but I was resolved to go through with it.
Katie and I were going to go out on Thursday, so I called her Wednesday night to solidify plans, and we decided to meet up at JambaJuice at noon.
I got to JambaJuice about ten minutes early and just sat and waited. When I got there, the place was pretty well empty, but then people started pouring in, and about a million girls walked by me in the next 15 minutes. I was going out of my mind! Every time someone walked by, I'd sit up and smile, but the only person who walked up to me was a guy who thought I was there to sell him a chemistry book.
Four hours!
That was Thursday. Friday, nothing happened. Saturday night, I was hanging out with some friends, and Katie texted me, and we had a texted conversation that lasted a really long time--certainly the longest texted conversation I've ever had (not that I do a whole lot of texting; still, it lasted a couple hours, I think). Sunday, I called her up to say hello (she had taught a mission prep class that day, and I wanted to know how it went), and she invited me over to her place, so I went. While we were there, she got a call from a guy in her ward who was cooking stir fry, so we went over and hung out there for a little while. Then I had to leave for a presidency meeting. We idly talked about meeting up later that evening, but it never happened.
Monday after FHE, I was going to watch the 1960 version of The Time Machine with my roommates. Katie texted me to ask what I was doing, and I invited her to come over to meet my roommates and watch an old movie, so she did. We watched the movie, and then the five of us (me and Katie and my roommates) sat and talked until midnight hit, and then she had to leave because of the university's honor code's curfew, so I walked her home. When we got to her place, we stood outside the door and talked for a while, and then we ended up sitting and talking for a while, and we sat and talked until sunrise, and I finally went home a little after 8am.
We had hung out for 10 solid hours!
I went home and crashed into bed, slept for about three hours, and then got up and went to work. After work, I texted her to ask her if she was home, and she was, so I went over to her place at about 6pm and we hung out for a little while. I had a ward bonfire at 8:30, and she came with me to it. We hung out there until the party wound down and then at my place until midnight hit and then we went back and sat on her porched until 3am!
So, Monday night, we hung out for 10 solid hours; Tuesday night, 8 solid hours. Of the 24 hours that made up Tuesday, I spent 13 hanging out with Katie.
Wednesday is my busy day because I'm a part of two clubs that both meet Wednesday night, but I managed to hang out with her for an hour or two in between work and club meetings.
Thursday was my last day in Provo (I went home to celebrate the 4th of July by getting my wisdom teeth extracted), so I wanted to make it awesome. I went to work that morning and by 3pm I was done with everything I had to do before leaving town, so I texted Katie and we got together a little after 4:00. The on-campus art museum has a really cool exhibit right now of Walter Wick (the guy who writes the I Spy books), so we went to that together. We spent a couple of hours looking at the pictures and searching for the hidden things. It was fantastic. Those couple hours were really a turning point for me. Up to that point, everything had just been happening so fast that my head was spinning and all I could think was, "Is this really happening to me? To me? Kyle Jepson? This is happening to Kyle Jepson, and I'm Kyle Jepson??" But as we wandered around that exhibit, I realized that what was happening, crazy though it may be, was pretty stinking cool. Here, for the first time in my life, was a girl I really liked who wasn't avoiding me and wasn't merely tolerating me but genuinely seemed to enjoy my company, and it happened without any effort on my part. I call it a miracle.
Downside: she's from Sacramento and she was heading home for the rest of the summer on Saturday morning. So we had a rip-whirlin' good week, but now we're separated by hundreds of miles.
GLOOM
So we spent a couple of hours at that exhibit, and then I had to go home teaching and we were separated from about 8:15 till about 9:45, but then we met back up and we went with my roommies to Brick Oven Pizza, after which we dropped my roommates and car off at my apartment, and I walked her home.
Thanks, man....
I showed her the text, and we both laughed.
We got to her place and sat and talked till about 2am, at which point she said that I should probably get some sleep before my long drive home. Then we both stared at the ground and pondered our impending separation in silence for a while.
"Well," I said. "Let's start with standing up."
"It's cold," she said, taking off the blanket she was wrapped in.
"That's okay," I said. "I'm going to hug you for a really long time."
"Oh," she said. "That isn't forward at all...."
We hugged. For a really long time. Not a really long time, but it was the longest hug I'd ever given up to that point. After it ended, we just stood and looked at each other and said how sad it was that we were leaving, which launched us back into conversation, and we stood and talked for another 5 or 10 minutes before I said that I should probably go.
"Okay," I said. "I wanna hug you again."
And then I actually did hug her for a really long time.
"I'm going to miss these nights," I said as we hugged.
"I'm going to miss you!" she said.
"I'm glad about that," I said. "It wouldn't be fair if I missed you a lot and you didn't miss me at all."
"You were supposed to be a jerk," she said. "It was just supposed to be a funny story that ended with, '...but then he turned out to be a jerk, so I never tried that again. The end.'"
The conversation continued, then fizzled, and then the hug ended, and I started slowly, sadly backing away.
"When are you getting your teeth pulled?" she asked.
"Not till Tuesday," I said.
"See?" she said. "You could stay another day!"
"Yeah," I said. "I know. But--" and then I trailed off. If I had been thinking, I would've said something like, "The more time we spend together, the more I'll miss you when you're gone," but I was too sad to be witty.
The awkward good-bye lasted a few more seconds, and then I walked down the stairs and into the pouring rain. I didn't cry, but I made a point of telling Heavenly Father how unfair this all seemed.
THE END
(Not really: look for a continuation soon)
Thursday, June 25, 2009
My Proudest Moment
I would say, "Is it any wonder the ladies are flocking to me?" except that I spent the majority of this set making fun of dating....
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
I know I'm sexy, but dang!
So, I performed in my first stand-up comedy show this past weekend (video to come soon, with any luck). How well did it go you ask? This well:
Yes, I called her.
No, this is not some prank that was pulled on her.
Yes, we're going on a date.
Exciting stories to follow, no doubt.
Yes, I called her.
No, this is not some prank that was pulled on her.
Yes, we're going on a date.
Exciting stories to follow, no doubt.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
beeBOO BEEP
I really suck at living in the cellular age: I never, ever have my phone on. To keep people from getting angry at me, then, I have resorted to making clever voicemail answerings. Today I made a new one and realized that I should probably preserve these someplace to show off my awesomeness and then complain when people plagiarize. So here you have my collected cell phone voicemail answerings of 2009, starting with my current one, and going back to the one that was on my phone when the year started:
(Piano Man)
Leave a message you're on Kyle's phone
Leave a message for free
And I'll call you back when I am all alone
And need someone to talk to me
(Downtown)
When you try to call Kyle
You are faced with denial
'cuz you just get his
Voicemail
And he doesn't have minutes
So who knows when he'll get it
and respond to this
Voicemail
(Over the Rainbow)
Somewhere in Provo Utah
A man lives
Who's good at checking voicemail--
Sadly this is not his.
(Gilligan's Isle)
Just sit right back and you'll hear a sound
The sound of a little tone
Then you can leave a message which will then be stored
On Kyle Jepson's phone
On Kyle Jepson's phone
(Beverly Hillbillies)
Well, you have reached the voicemail of a man named Kyle
Who likes to make it answer in a musical style
So you can do some singing at the sound of the beep
Because that is your queue from me to leave a short and sweet
[spoken:] Message, that is.
("O Fortuna" from Carmina Burana)
It's Kyle's phone!
Leave a message!
And I will call you someday!
(We wish you a merry christmas)
I wish you would leave a message
I wish you would leave a message
I wish you would leave a message
And I'll call you right back
(Piano Man)
Leave a message you're on Kyle's phone
Leave a message for free
And I'll call you back when I am all alone
And need someone to talk to me
(Downtown)
When you try to call Kyle
You are faced with denial
'cuz you just get his
Voicemail
And he doesn't have minutes
So who knows when he'll get it
and respond to this
Voicemail
(Over the Rainbow)
Somewhere in Provo Utah
A man lives
Who's good at checking voicemail--
Sadly this is not his.
(Gilligan's Isle)
Just sit right back and you'll hear a sound
The sound of a little tone
Then you can leave a message which will then be stored
On Kyle Jepson's phone
On Kyle Jepson's phone
(Beverly Hillbillies)
Well, you have reached the voicemail of a man named Kyle
Who likes to make it answer in a musical style
So you can do some singing at the sound of the beep
Because that is your queue from me to leave a short and sweet
[spoken:] Message, that is.
("O Fortuna" from Carmina Burana)
It's Kyle's phone!
Leave a message!
And I will call you someday!
(We wish you a merry christmas)
I wish you would leave a message
I wish you would leave a message
I wish you would leave a message
And I'll call you right back
Saturday, March 14, 2009
The lives of others
I spend 10 hours a week in the library, scanning stuff for the professor who employs me. It doesn't take a whole lot of concentration, so I have to find ways of amusing myself when the things I'm scanning aren't sufficiently interesting.
And that's how I developed one of my new favorite pastimes: eaves dropping on the conversations around me. I have learned that any conversation is funny when taken out of context. Here are the ones I've liked well enough to jot down:
Guy: Wait, you were laughing at a funeral?
Girl: The lady sitting next to me was crying and snorting! It was so funny; I couldn't help it! She was like [SNORT]--[hahaha]--she was like [SNORT]--it was so funny!
Girl1: So he has, like, a thousand pairs of shoes.
Girl2: That'd be pretty cool: "Hm. Today I feel like wearing blue shoes."
Girl3: Yeah. But I just can't imagine spending that much money on spray paint.
Girl1: Some people, like, spit in my face.
Girl2: Really?
Girl1: Yeah.
Girl2: Because of him?
Girl1: Yeah. I just wanted to shout, "I'm not George Bush! I'm not George Bush!"
Girl to guy: Well, first of all, you have to be bored and good looking, so we could totally choose you!
British-sounding girl on cell phone: No, no, no: I'm even more allergic to Band-aids now than I used to be!
One guy to another: She said she did wanna date a punk rocker--but I'm like the pambiest punk rocker ever! I'm really just a wannabe....
But my all-time favorite is this one:
One guy to another: Oh, but dude, make sure you don't get too overzealous your first time 'cuz this one girl did, and she ended up throwing up all over the place--just way too much ice cream.
And that's how I developed one of my new favorite pastimes: eaves dropping on the conversations around me. I have learned that any conversation is funny when taken out of context. Here are the ones I've liked well enough to jot down:
Guy: Wait, you were laughing at a funeral?
Girl: The lady sitting next to me was crying and snorting! It was so funny; I couldn't help it! She was like [SNORT]--[hahaha]--she was like [SNORT]--it was so funny!
Girl1: So he has, like, a thousand pairs of shoes.
Girl2: That'd be pretty cool: "Hm. Today I feel like wearing blue shoes."
Girl3: Yeah. But I just can't imagine spending that much money on spray paint.
Girl1: Some people, like, spit in my face.
Girl2: Really?
Girl1: Yeah.
Girl2: Because of him?
Girl1: Yeah. I just wanted to shout, "I'm not George Bush! I'm not George Bush!"
Girl to guy: Well, first of all, you have to be bored and good looking, so we could totally choose you!
British-sounding girl on cell phone: No, no, no: I'm even more allergic to Band-aids now than I used to be!
One guy to another: She said she did wanna date a punk rocker--but I'm like the pambiest punk rocker ever! I'm really just a wannabe....
But my all-time favorite is this one:
One guy to another: Oh, but dude, make sure you don't get too overzealous your first time 'cuz this one girl did, and she ended up throwing up all over the place--just way too much ice cream.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Takes one to know one
When I named this blog Fake Dates and Faux Pas, I had a particular faux pas in mind--the grand poo bah of all faux pas--and I've toyed with recounting it here but kept chickening out because it doesn't paint me in a very flattering light. But the time has come to let the truth be known because, right now, the truth strikes me as really pretty funny--which may mean that I am, in fact, sick in the head.
So let's examine some history, shall we?
(NOTE: I don't think I've done any 'nym-ing in this blog in the past, but in this post I'm changing all the names except for mine because I'm not really looking to make any enemies just now. I'm only a part-time jerk, and today's a day off for me.)
I could back the clock waaaaay back and give you all kinds of details, but they're mostly irrelevant, so I'll just bullet-point the necessary backstory:
So let's examine some history, shall we?
(NOTE: I don't think I've done any 'nym-ing in this blog in the past, but in this post I'm changing all the names except for mine because I'm not really looking to make any enemies just now. I'm only a part-time jerk, and today's a day off for me.)
I could back the clock waaaaay back and give you all kinds of details, but they're mostly irrelevant, so I'll just bullet-point the necessary backstory:
- I was diggin' on a girl in my last ward (we'll call her Sally)
- She went home for the summer, and we had a delightful email correspondence
- In said correspondence, we made a lot of fun plans for the fall
- She returned to
- I assumed this meant we could carry out said plans
- Within 4 or 5 days of returning to
To be honest, it was quite a blow to my ego that she hooked up with somebody before I got a chance to give her more than a quick greeting in passing--and it certainly didn't help that I found out about him from her roommates instead of her (we were still emailing fairly regularly--how did it not come up?). Nevertheless, I still hoped that we could carry out the fun plans we made (which mostly entailed hiking various mountains), and I figured that this required me to befriend her new beau because the chances of me being able to get her to go hiking with me (a boy) sans boyfriend were pretty much nil. I didn't imagine this would be a problem, though, because I figured any guy Sally would date would be the nice, laid-back, fun-loving sort because that's the way she was.
No such luck. I met said boyfriend at Sally's roommate's birthday party the Sunday after Sally's return to Provo, and it did not go well--at all.
It had been a kind of wild evening for me already. I had just met my new hometeaching companion (we'll call Mark), and he and I hit it off and sat talking boisterously for--I dunno--and hour or two before we headed to the party. I was all kinds of riled up--so much so that, had I taken a brief moment to pause and think, I would have said to myself, "Okay, little Jepson, we probably oughtta just go into the bedroom and talk to the walls--no social ventures tonight, my friend--not when we're in a mood like this," but I wasn't in the sort of mood to pause or think, so all I could think was, "Party? Party? Why, yes, I do feel like a party, actually," and so we went.
I had lived in the complex about a year at this point, so I had a pretty good grasp on the people who lived there--especially during the summer because there weren't a whole lot of us--so when I walked into the party and surveyed the scene, I immediately picked up on the unfamiliar face that was quietly sitting, brooding in a corner away from the action.
"Hey New Guy!" I said, walking over, a look of indomitable gregariousness most certainly plastered on my face. I took a seat on the side table next to him, knocking over a picture and a box of Kleenex. "My names Kyle; who are you?"
"Nathan," he said.
"Nice to meet you, Nathan. Are you new in the ward?"
"I'm not in the ward."
"Ah, just here for the party, then--I can respect that for sure! Where you from?"
"It's complicated."
"Complicated? How can it be complicated--did you move a lot?"
"Not really."
"So how is it complicated?"
"I dunno. Where do you want me to start?"
"I dunno," I said. "How about the beginning--the very beginning--where were you conceived?"
See? Sometimes I just shouldn't be out among the people....
He didn't find this joke remotely funny--actually, I think it kind of offended him.
"Don't remember, huh?" I asked. "That's okay. I don't remember my conception, either--probably better that way, don't you think?"
This, as it turns out, wasn't funny, either. We weren't exactly hitting it off.
"Kay, so," I pressed on, still annoyingly enthusiastic, "where were you born."
"Utah," he said.
"Really?" I said. "Me too! I was born in Logan, but my parents were living in Idaho at the time--don't remember anything about it because we moved to California a year after I was born and lived there ever since. How 'bout you?"
"I grew up in Utah for a while," he said, "then I moved to California."
"Well that doesn't sound too complicated," I said. "Why'd you move? Dad get a job or something? That's why my family moved--kinda."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"You don't want to talk about it?" I asked. "Was it a bad experience for you? I admit some people don't like California, but really how bad could it be?"
"It was a court order," he said. "I don't want to talk about it."
A court order? A court order?? Oh dear, who am I messing with here?
Change the subject, Jepson--quick!
"How do you know [girl whose birthday was being celebrated]?"
"I don't."
"Don't know [girl], don't live in the ward--just a party hopper, then?"
"I here with Ms. Peterson."
'fraida that....
So this is Sally's boyfriend. This, then, is the man I was hoping to befriend. Totally the nice, laid-back, fun-loving sort--totally the kind of person I wanna spend my weekends hiking mountains with. Conversational types are the best on long hikes 'cuz there isn't much to do but talk.
A real winner.
Attempt one was not going well. Time to back off and try again later.
"Oh," I said, "so you're the new boyfriend. Well congratulations! Anyway, I'ma gonna go get some cake now. I love cake--'s the reason I come to parties, really. You want me to grab you a piece?"
"No."
Come to the party of a girl you don't know and you don't even like cake? Tough life you're livin' there, buddy.
"Okay. Well. Nice to meet you, Nathan," I lied and went to get some cake and mingle with actual nice, laid-back, fun-loving people.
One of my roommates came to the party a little later and struck up a conversation with Nathan. This particular roommate has some unbelievable people skills--the sort of guy who people enjoy showing their puppies to regardless of whether he pets or kicks them--so it appeared to me, from my distant vantage point, that he was able to do quite a bit better than I did.
When the conversation ended, my roommate talked to me about it.
"Have you met Sally's boyfriend?" he asked.
"I tried," I said. "I tried to strike up a friendly conversation, but he didn't want any part of it."
"Yeah," my roommate said. "I chatted with him from a while but--I dunno--I get bad vibes from that guy. Something's not quite on the level."
"He told me he got moved to California by court order," I said. "He could have some sort of traumatic (or violent) past."
"Yeah," my roommie said. "Not a guy I'd wanna mess with."
This too should have sent up some red flags in my mind. I mean, not that this roommate is a professional bare-knuckle boxer or anything, but still....
The event of the night aren't especially clear to me (it has been, like, eight months now), and I don't remember what brought it up. But something was said or done that caused me to say to Nathan, "Oh. Well, I hope that doesn't put a damper on our new relationship," at which point he stared me in the face and said, "We don't have a relationship."
That was the breaking point for me. That was the point when I wanted to stand up and say, "Chill out, man: I'm trying to be your friend, so why don't you just sit yourself down, slap an inane smile on your face, and graciously accept my soulless platitudes so I can butter you up and get at your girl."
See? Takes one to know one. We're jerks of slightly different flavors, but we're jerks just the same.
It was shortly after that--while I was eating, I believe, my second piece of cake--that I got the idea for what I wanted to do. I was sitting next to Nathan on a couch, and he was doing his best to ignore me, and I decided that, no matter what he did to ignore me, I'd make sure he'd never forget the day we me.
The party wound down. Most folks left. It was just the girl whose party it was, some of her roommates (one had gone to bed already), Nathan, my roommie, my hometeaching companion, and me. Sally and her awake non-birthday roommate (we'll call Jane) were on a small couch; Nathan, my roommate, and I were on a longer couch arrange perpendicularly to the other; my hometeaching companion was talking to the birthday girl over by the cake--so they weren't really a part of the social casualty that followed.
"Well," my roommate was saying, "it's been fun, but we probably oughtta get goin'."
"Yeah," I said. "Sally, welcome back, it's good to see you again; Jane, always good to see you. Nathan"--here I grabbed his head and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek--"a pleasure to meet you," and I jumped up and fairly jigged out of the room, taking in a glance Nathan's discomfort, Jane's surprise, and Sally's utter horror. My roommate, who was halfway between standing and sitting, slowly sat back down and facepalmed.
I walked triumphantly back to my apartment. Nobody ignores me--no sir! Deny me friendship, I'll compromise your manhood. Don't mess with me, man--I'm a loaded gun!
Back in my apartment, dizzy with insanity, I leaned against the counter and drank a glass of water. Another roommate walked in and, upon seeing what must have been a disconcertingly crazed look on my face, said, "Kyle--what'd you do?"
"I just kissed a man," I said, I took another sip.
A while later, my other roommate returned from the party completely chagrined.
"I don't know what you were trying to accomplish there, man," he said. "I told you I got a bad feeling from that guy."
He told me that he had just spent the last several minutes running interference for me--smoothing things over so I didn't get lynched. Later, Jane came over and told me that Sally was extremely unhappy with me: "I don't know that you're an enemy," she said, "but I'm pretty sure you aren't a friend any more."
The drama that ensued from that fantastic faux pas of mine is a tale unto itself, and this post is plenty long, so I won't address it here. Maybe some other time--if popular demand demands. What I'm driving at, though, is this:
I'm a jerk.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Shotgun fake date
So, I said my first fake date was my outing with Ice Cream Jenny, but I've been flipping through old journals, and I recant: my first fake date happened a few months before I moved to Provo.
Here is my record of 22 April 2007:
---
Okay... That was... odd....
Today, Br. and Sis. Bennett (who live just a couple houses away from Jepson HQ) spoke in Church. For whatever reason, Sis. Bennett mentioned that she has a newly returned sister-missionary granddaughter visiting her this weekend. This naturally caught my attention, but I didn't think too much of it.
Sister Quiroz, bless her heart, interrupted the Sunday school class I was teaching to repeat the information to me and tell me to "get on it."
(It's probably okay she interrupted my class: I was tired and hyper and... well, I just wasn't as dignified as I probably ought to have been.)
I thought about at least introducing myself to this dear interloper, but I didn't get the chance before we left Church.
Oh, well, I thought; There's a fireside this evening; if the Bennetts come, I'll introduce myself.
Nice thought....
Mom was making dinner. I was hungry and it smelled good. Then she told me that I should ask the Bennetts' granddaughter to go to the fireside with me; I said that I thought it'd be a little strange since I'd never met her. Mom said I should ask her anyway; I said I wouldn't. Mom handed me the phone and told me the Bennetts' phone number; I put the phone away. Mom said if I didn't call, I couldn't have dinner.
I called.
Br. Bennett answered. He turned me over to Sister Bennett. She said that this was their last evening together, so they wouldn't be going out. Then she said, "If Amy wants to go, I'll have her call you."
I returned and reported to Mom.
A few minutes later, the phone rang, caller ID: Bennett, John.
I answered:
"Hello?"
"Hi, is Kyle there?"
"This is Kyle."
"Oh. Hi, Kyle--this is Amy."
"Hi."
"Uh. I was just calling to say, "Sure. I'd like to go.'"
"Oh," I said, "yeah. Cool. I figured, ya know, we returned missionaries like Church History stuff. It starts at 7, so I guess I'll pick you up around--" (I looked to Mom for guidance, and she said, "20 till.")--"twenty minutes before that. Sound good?"
"Yeah."
"Alright," I said. "I'll see you then."
"Okay. Bye."
"Bye."
Fast forward about 3 hours to 6:40.
I drove over to the Bennetts'--something I've never done before because it's easier to walk there--and rang the bell. I had no idea who this girl was: I'd never seen her, never talked to her aside from our 15-second phone call.... All I knew was that she served in Russia for a while, took a tumble on the ice bad enough to get sent home, then finished her mission in New York.
Amy answered the door and invited me in while she went to grab her scriptures.
"I don't think I've ever driven down your driveway before," I said to Sister Bennett. "It's kinda steep."
"Yeah," she said. "You usually walk!"
Me 'n' Amy left, and a couple seconds later as we passed my house, I pointed it out:
"That's where I live," I said.
"Yeah," she said. "I know."
She then proceeded to tell me that she knows all about the Jepsons, that when her mom and grandma (Sis. Bennett) talk about Tehachapi, they always talk about Sister Jepson. She told me that she and her mom used to visit a lot when she was little, and Brandon was always in her primary class. She said she got to know Shanna a little, too ("She always said hi to me when I went to primary," she said; "made me feel special.") She said she knew I had a couple of older brothers and an older sister, too, but she never met them.
"I didn't know there was a younger brother," she said. "My grandma told me Kyle Jepson called, and I said, 'Who's Kyle? I didn't know there WAS a Kyle!' I thought Brandon was the youngest boy."
Oh. How nice.
We cahtted on the ride to the Chruch and for a little while after we got there. The fireside started just in time to rescue us from an awkward silence.
The speaker collects pictoral prints from old newspapers ("old" meaning late 1800s, early 1900s). It was supposed to be a Church history fireside, but it seemed to be an expose of various artwork--most of which portrayed the Chruch unkindly. There were some pretty good ones--including a photograph of the Salt Lake Temple with the scaffolding still on it--but the majority was anti-Mormon stuff. He treated it lightly, making a joke of it, but my mission in Idaho made me see that there is NOTHING funny about anti-Mormon literature.
Fine date your on, Kyle. Brilliant.
The drive home was pretty solemn. I somehow managed to get her to open up about her health problems, and she unloaded on me all the troubles she's been having.
"I don't really like to talk about it," she said at the end. Then she realized she had just told me all about it and said, "Oh. I guess I just told you all about it, but--"
It's nive to know I'm the kinda guy people can confide in.
She went on to explain that the worst part is all the pity she gets, all they worrying and poo-pooing people do, always fussing over her, afraid to invite her to do things because they're afraid she's not able.
She's not always able, though: she couldn't go back to BYU when she got home because of her back problems (her neck, shoulders, and back were all affected, and she's always in pain), and she can't work much, either.
Poor soul....
She's a good person, though: she's optimistic, friendly, happy....
I'm not sorry I asked her, frankly. I enjoyed it.
I hope she did, too.
----
A few months after I moved to Provo, my mom called me. She had been talking to Sister Bennett and learned that Amy was back at BYU.
"You should look her up and ask her out," my mom said: "her dad makes a lot of money; it'd be nice for you to marry into money."
That was a year ago, I'd bet; I still haven't done it.
Doubt I ever will....
Here is my record of 22 April 2007:
---
Okay... That was... odd....
Today, Br. and Sis. Bennett (who live just a couple houses away from Jepson HQ) spoke in Church. For whatever reason, Sis. Bennett mentioned that she has a newly returned sister-missionary granddaughter visiting her this weekend. This naturally caught my attention, but I didn't think too much of it.
Sister Quiroz, bless her heart, interrupted the Sunday school class I was teaching to repeat the information to me and tell me to "get on it."
(It's probably okay she interrupted my class: I was tired and hyper and... well, I just wasn't as dignified as I probably ought to have been.)
I thought about at least introducing myself to this dear interloper, but I didn't get the chance before we left Church.
Oh, well, I thought; There's a fireside this evening; if the Bennetts come, I'll introduce myself.
Nice thought....
Mom was making dinner. I was hungry and it smelled good. Then she told me that I should ask the Bennetts' granddaughter to go to the fireside with me; I said that I thought it'd be a little strange since I'd never met her. Mom said I should ask her anyway; I said I wouldn't. Mom handed me the phone and told me the Bennetts' phone number; I put the phone away. Mom said if I didn't call, I couldn't have dinner.
I called.
Br. Bennett answered. He turned me over to Sister Bennett. She said that this was their last evening together, so they wouldn't be going out. Then she said, "If Amy wants to go, I'll have her call you."
I returned and reported to Mom.
A few minutes later, the phone rang, caller ID: Bennett, John.
I answered:
"Hello?"
"Hi, is Kyle there?"
"This is Kyle."
"Oh. Hi, Kyle--this is Amy."
"Hi."
"Uh. I was just calling to say, "Sure. I'd like to go.'"
"Oh," I said, "yeah. Cool. I figured, ya know, we returned missionaries like Church History stuff. It starts at 7, so I guess I'll pick you up around--" (I looked to Mom for guidance, and she said, "20 till.")--"twenty minutes before that. Sound good?"
"Yeah."
"Alright," I said. "I'll see you then."
"Okay. Bye."
"Bye."
Fast forward about 3 hours to 6:40.
I drove over to the Bennetts'--something I've never done before because it's easier to walk there--and rang the bell. I had no idea who this girl was: I'd never seen her, never talked to her aside from our 15-second phone call.... All I knew was that she served in Russia for a while, took a tumble on the ice bad enough to get sent home, then finished her mission in New York.
Amy answered the door and invited me in while she went to grab her scriptures.
"I don't think I've ever driven down your driveway before," I said to Sister Bennett. "It's kinda steep."
"Yeah," she said. "You usually walk!"
Me 'n' Amy left, and a couple seconds later as we passed my house, I pointed it out:
"That's where I live," I said.
"Yeah," she said. "I know."
She then proceeded to tell me that she knows all about the Jepsons, that when her mom and grandma (Sis. Bennett) talk about Tehachapi, they always talk about Sister Jepson. She told me that she and her mom used to visit a lot when she was little, and Brandon was always in her primary class. She said she got to know Shanna a little, too ("She always said hi to me when I went to primary," she said; "made me feel special.") She said she knew I had a couple of older brothers and an older sister, too, but she never met them.
"I didn't know there was a younger brother," she said. "My grandma told me Kyle Jepson called, and I said, 'Who's Kyle? I didn't know there WAS a Kyle!' I thought Brandon was the youngest boy."
Oh. How nice.
We cahtted on the ride to the Chruch and for a little while after we got there. The fireside started just in time to rescue us from an awkward silence.
The speaker collects pictoral prints from old newspapers ("old" meaning late 1800s, early 1900s). It was supposed to be a Church history fireside, but it seemed to be an expose of various artwork--most of which portrayed the Chruch unkindly. There were some pretty good ones--including a photograph of the Salt Lake Temple with the scaffolding still on it--but the majority was anti-Mormon stuff. He treated it lightly, making a joke of it, but my mission in Idaho made me see that there is NOTHING funny about anti-Mormon literature.
Fine date your on, Kyle. Brilliant.
The drive home was pretty solemn. I somehow managed to get her to open up about her health problems, and she unloaded on me all the troubles she's been having.
"I don't really like to talk about it," she said at the end. Then she realized she had just told me all about it and said, "Oh. I guess I just told you all about it, but--"
It's nive to know I'm the kinda guy people can confide in.
She went on to explain that the worst part is all the pity she gets, all they worrying and poo-pooing people do, always fussing over her, afraid to invite her to do things because they're afraid she's not able.
She's not always able, though: she couldn't go back to BYU when she got home because of her back problems (her neck, shoulders, and back were all affected, and she's always in pain), and she can't work much, either.
Poor soul....
She's a good person, though: she's optimistic, friendly, happy....
I'm not sorry I asked her, frankly. I enjoyed it.
I hope she did, too.
----
A few months after I moved to Provo, my mom called me. She had been talking to Sister Bennett and learned that Amy was back at BYU.
"You should look her up and ask her out," my mom said: "her dad makes a lot of money; it'd be nice for you to marry into money."
That was a year ago, I'd bet; I still haven't done it.
Doubt I ever will....
Monday, February 9, 2009
This could only happen to me
Yesterday, I was out wandering the streets of Provo while talking on my cellphone. When my conversation ended, I headed back to my apartment. Just as I was reaching my complex, a girl I vaguely recognized as being from my ward hailed me from the other side of the street, so I walked on over.
"Hey Kyle," she said, "we were thinking--well, first, do you know who I am?"
"Um," I said. "You're in the ward. You teach Sunday school sometime. Your name is--Ashley?"
"Yeah!" she said. "Are you dating anyone?"
"Uh, no?"
"Great!" she said. "You know Esther in the ward? You know Esther--nice Esther, has your color hair, does a lot of activity stuff--how can I describe her?--she's the one who looks like what you would look like if you were a girl!"
Um. What? Okay....
"Yeah," I said. "I know her."
"Me and my roommates asked her if it'd be okay for us to set her up with a boy in the ward, and she said yes, so we were thinking about it, and we think you two'd make a great couple, so will you ask her out?"
"Sure," I said. "I've actually toyed with the idea, but I don't know what she likes doing."
A near truth: I've actually toyed with the idea, but I have stronger interests elsewhere.
"Really?" she said. "That's great! Okay. I'll call her and tell her and ask what she likes to do, and then I'll call you. Kay?"
Wait, what? You--huh?
"Okay...."
"Thanks, Kyle!" she said, turning to go into her apartment. "I'll call you soon!"
Weird.
I went into my apartment and relayed this most curious story to my roommates, who all agreed that it was very strange indeed. About 45 minutes later, I got a call from a number I didn't recognize.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Kyle?"
"Yeah."
"This is Ashley. I just got off the phone with Esther. (I love how I'm being, like, a middle man. Isn't it adorable?) She said she knows it's lame but she's okay with doing whatever so you can just call her and ask her out and she'll be okay with whatever you think of. She seems like the fun sort of girl who's enthusiastic about whatever, so I'm sure you'll have fun. You seem like a creative dater. Are you a creative dater? Is that a good characteristic to have for you?"
"Uh, I try to be."
"I thought so. You seemed like the creative dater type. Anyway, I know she likes outdoorsy stuff like being out in nature and things, so you might wanna do something like that, but whatever you think of should be good."
"Okay."
"Balls in your court, Kyle! It's all up to you now!"
"Um. Thank you."
"No problem. Okay I'll talk to you later. I'll probably ask Esther all about it later and get a full report, but I might ask you too."
"Okay...."
"Thanks, Kyle! Talk to you later!"
I'm somehow reminded of the events leading up to that trip to the canyon....
Anyway, this story was too fantastic not to tell, so I told it to just about everyone I saw for the whole rest of the day. When ward prayer rolled around that night, my plan was to ask Esther out when I saw her, but she never showed up. However, just about everyone else wanted to know if I had asked her out yet--and not just people I had told about it: apparently Ashely was spreading the word too. A group of girls I home teach saw me leaving after ward prayer and asked me if I had asked Esther out yet; I told them I was going to go call her right now. They told me to just go over to her place, and pointed out her apartment to me, so I went straight over.
I knocked on the door and a roommate let me in, telling me that Esther was washing her face but that she'd be out in a minute. I told the roommate the story, and she found it quite ridiculous. About the time the story ended, we heard the bathroom door open, so she went to apprise Esther of my being there:
"Esther," she said, "Kyle's here to talk to you."
"Right now?" a nonplussed, flat, croaky voice said.
"I can go away if it's a bad time, Esther!" I called. "I will come pester you some other day."
The roommate peeked around the corner and whispered, "She's been a little sick today."
"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked. "Esther! I'm sorry! I'll come bother you later!"
Esther came around the corner looking tired and--I dunno--just not feeling well, but she had a pleasant sort of expression on her face--something like, "I don't really want to see anybody right now, but I'll make an exception for you."
"So, Esther, howzitgoin'?" I asked slowly.
"Well. Ya know."
"Yeah. So. Ashley talk to you?"
"Yeah," she said. "Kinda makes me feel like I'm back in middle school."
"Yeah," I said. "Well, I was gonna ask you out right now, but I think I'll wait until sometime when you're feeling better."
"Thanks."
"Kay. So. I'll, like, bug you sometime next week then, probably."
"Okay. Thanks, Kyle."
"Yeah, no problem. I'll see ya later." I got up to leave. "Hope you feel better soon."
"Thanks. See ya."
"Bye."
"Hey Kyle," she said, "we were thinking--well, first, do you know who I am?"
"Um," I said. "You're in the ward. You teach Sunday school sometime. Your name is--Ashley?"
"Yeah!" she said. "Are you dating anyone?"
"Uh, no?"
"Great!" she said. "You know Esther in the ward? You know Esther--nice Esther, has your color hair, does a lot of activity stuff--how can I describe her?--she's the one who looks like what you would look like if you were a girl!"
Um. What? Okay....
"Yeah," I said. "I know her."
"Me and my roommates asked her if it'd be okay for us to set her up with a boy in the ward, and she said yes, so we were thinking about it, and we think you two'd make a great couple, so will you ask her out?"
"Sure," I said. "I've actually toyed with the idea, but I don't know what she likes doing."
A near truth: I've actually toyed with the idea, but I have stronger interests elsewhere.
"Really?" she said. "That's great! Okay. I'll call her and tell her and ask what she likes to do, and then I'll call you. Kay?"
Wait, what? You--huh?
"Okay...."
"Thanks, Kyle!" she said, turning to go into her apartment. "I'll call you soon!"
Weird.
I went into my apartment and relayed this most curious story to my roommates, who all agreed that it was very strange indeed. About 45 minutes later, I got a call from a number I didn't recognize.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Kyle?"
"Yeah."
"This is Ashley. I just got off the phone with Esther. (I love how I'm being, like, a middle man. Isn't it adorable?) She said she knows it's lame but she's okay with doing whatever so you can just call her and ask her out and she'll be okay with whatever you think of. She seems like the fun sort of girl who's enthusiastic about whatever, so I'm sure you'll have fun. You seem like a creative dater. Are you a creative dater? Is that a good characteristic to have for you?"
"Uh, I try to be."
"I thought so. You seemed like the creative dater type. Anyway, I know she likes outdoorsy stuff like being out in nature and things, so you might wanna do something like that, but whatever you think of should be good."
"Okay."
"Balls in your court, Kyle! It's all up to you now!"
"Um. Thank you."
"No problem. Okay I'll talk to you later. I'll probably ask Esther all about it later and get a full report, but I might ask you too."
"Okay...."
"Thanks, Kyle! Talk to you later!"
I'm somehow reminded of the events leading up to that trip to the canyon....
Anyway, this story was too fantastic not to tell, so I told it to just about everyone I saw for the whole rest of the day. When ward prayer rolled around that night, my plan was to ask Esther out when I saw her, but she never showed up. However, just about everyone else wanted to know if I had asked her out yet--and not just people I had told about it: apparently Ashely was spreading the word too. A group of girls I home teach saw me leaving after ward prayer and asked me if I had asked Esther out yet; I told them I was going to go call her right now. They told me to just go over to her place, and pointed out her apartment to me, so I went straight over.
I knocked on the door and a roommate let me in, telling me that Esther was washing her face but that she'd be out in a minute. I told the roommate the story, and she found it quite ridiculous. About the time the story ended, we heard the bathroom door open, so she went to apprise Esther of my being there:
"Esther," she said, "Kyle's here to talk to you."
"Right now?" a nonplussed, flat, croaky voice said.
"I can go away if it's a bad time, Esther!" I called. "I will come pester you some other day."
The roommate peeked around the corner and whispered, "She's been a little sick today."
"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked. "Esther! I'm sorry! I'll come bother you later!"
Esther came around the corner looking tired and--I dunno--just not feeling well, but she had a pleasant sort of expression on her face--something like, "I don't really want to see anybody right now, but I'll make an exception for you."
"So, Esther, howzitgoin'?" I asked slowly.
"Well. Ya know."
"Yeah. So. Ashley talk to you?"
"Yeah," she said. "Kinda makes me feel like I'm back in middle school."
"Yeah," I said. "Well, I was gonna ask you out right now, but I think I'll wait until sometime when you're feeling better."
"Thanks."
"Kay. So. I'll, like, bug you sometime next week then, probably."
"Okay. Thanks, Kyle."
"Yeah, no problem. I'll see ya later." I got up to leave. "Hope you feel better soon."
"Thanks. See ya."
"Bye."
Sunday, February 8, 2009
"Um. That's MY arm" or "Hey, remember me?"
A couple of weeks ago, one of my roommates had a date with a girl to go cross-country skiing, and he asked me to double with him. I wanted to go--really, I did!--but after being rejected by three girls, I decided I had struck out.
Rejection #1 was pretty interesting. Here's how I recorded it in my journal (25 Jan 2009):
{Open Quote}
At ward prayer tonight, I approached Anne, exchanged greetings, and said, "This Saturday, Jason and I are going cross-country skiing, and I was wondering if you'd like to come."
"This Saturday?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"Oh," she said, looking distraught, "I don't think I can."
"Oh~" I said, the tilde being indicative of my inflection.
"And--" she said.
Here it comes, Jepson; here it comes!
"--and I'm dating someone right now," she said.
I had worried about this--not emotionally, but the thought had crossed my mind. Just the way she talked that Monday night when she was bemoaning her dating confusion, I figured there had to be a guy somewhere who was confusing her.
She apologized.
"No, that's alright," I said. "I kinda figured, and I thought this was a sure-fire way to find out."
She laughed and rubbed my arm.
"Yeah..." she said. "So, I've never been skiing before."
"Yeah, me neither," I said.
"It looks hard, though," she said. "That's a really athletic date."
"Well," I said, "it's cross-country skiing, though, so you just kind of glide on top of the snow. Jason did it yesterday and said it was really fun."
"Where do you guys go to do it?"
"I dunno," I said: "I've never been. Jason went somewhere north of here."
"Huh," she said. "Well. Sorry, but--thanks for inviting me!"
"Hey, no prob'm," I said. "And--ya know--if you find yourself single again, if I'm still single, I'll be around."
She laughed and rubbed my arm.
"That's a very nice--date in--advance," she said, grasping for words.
I smiled and shrugged.
"Well, have a good week," I said. "I'll see ya around."
She smiled and rubbed my arm--dramatic pause.
"Two weeks ago I would've said yes," she finally said, and then she left.
{Close quote}
That is without a doubt the most reluctant rejection I've ever received--but at least she gave it to me! My senior year in high school, a girl asked me out to Sadie Hawkins, like, a couple months in advance. I said yes, but she got herself a boyfriend (not me) between then and the time of the dance; when I asked her about it, she said we were still going together. When the (un)eventful night came, she and I went together and I found myself the victim of a sneaky date swap--meaning I spent the night sitting next to some girl I didn't know (my date's boyfriend's date), unable to get to know her because of the deafening music.
So. Yeah. Any rejection's better than that!
Rejection #2 for skiing was the girl I went on the temple-tour date with, but we went on that date the Tuesday before the night Jason was going skiing, and she already had weekend plans, so that didn't work.
Rejection #3 came that Wednesday night when I called up a girl I had a class with last semester. We had been on one date, and I wasn't opposed to another--even if it had been a few months. I called her up, and we had a conversation something like this:
"Hey, Erica, this is Kyle. Howzitgoin'?"
"Um. Good. Kyle?"
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry. Kyle whom?"
"Kyle me! Kyle who was in your grammar class last semester! We went on that one really random date with my roommate."
"Oh, Kyle! I'm so sorry! I must have deleted you out of my phone or something. But--I--you're cool, so I don't know why I would have done that. Maybe you were never in my phone...."
"Oh. Well. Remember Jason we doubled with? He's asked a girl to go cross-country skiing this weekend, and I was wondering if you'd like to come along--'cuz, ya know, I never see you anymore."
"I know! It's sad! But--sorry, I've got plans all weekend long."
"Oh. Alright. Well, it was nice talking to you anyway."
"Yeah.... Thanks for calling!"
Rejection #1 was pretty interesting. Here's how I recorded it in my journal (25 Jan 2009):
{Open Quote}
At ward prayer tonight, I approached Anne, exchanged greetings, and said, "This Saturday, Jason and I are going cross-country skiing, and I was wondering if you'd like to come."
"This Saturday?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"Oh," she said, looking distraught, "I don't think I can."
"Oh~" I said, the tilde being indicative of my inflection.
"And--" she said.
Here it comes, Jepson; here it comes!
"--and I'm dating someone right now," she said.
I had worried about this--not emotionally, but the thought had crossed my mind. Just the way she talked that Monday night when she was bemoaning her dating confusion, I figured there had to be a guy somewhere who was confusing her.
She apologized.
"No, that's alright," I said. "I kinda figured, and I thought this was a sure-fire way to find out."
She laughed and rubbed my arm.
"Yeah..." she said. "So, I've never been skiing before."
"Yeah, me neither," I said.
"It looks hard, though," she said. "That's a really athletic date."
"Well," I said, "it's cross-country skiing, though, so you just kind of glide on top of the snow. Jason did it yesterday and said it was really fun."
"Where do you guys go to do it?"
"I dunno," I said: "I've never been. Jason went somewhere north of here."
"Huh," she said. "Well. Sorry, but--thanks for inviting me!"
"Hey, no prob'm," I said. "And--ya know--if you find yourself single again, if I'm still single, I'll be around."
She laughed and rubbed my arm.
"That's a very nice--date in--advance," she said, grasping for words.
I smiled and shrugged.
"Well, have a good week," I said. "I'll see ya around."
She smiled and rubbed my arm--dramatic pause.
"Two weeks ago I would've said yes," she finally said, and then she left.
{Close quote}
That is without a doubt the most reluctant rejection I've ever received--but at least she gave it to me! My senior year in high school, a girl asked me out to Sadie Hawkins, like, a couple months in advance. I said yes, but she got herself a boyfriend (not me) between then and the time of the dance; when I asked her about it, she said we were still going together. When the (un)eventful night came, she and I went together and I found myself the victim of a sneaky date swap--meaning I spent the night sitting next to some girl I didn't know (my date's boyfriend's date), unable to get to know her because of the deafening music.
So. Yeah. Any rejection's better than that!
Rejection #2 for skiing was the girl I went on the temple-tour date with, but we went on that date the Tuesday before the night Jason was going skiing, and she already had weekend plans, so that didn't work.
Rejection #3 came that Wednesday night when I called up a girl I had a class with last semester. We had been on one date, and I wasn't opposed to another--even if it had been a few months. I called her up, and we had a conversation something like this:
"Hey, Erica, this is Kyle. Howzitgoin'?"
"Um. Good. Kyle?"
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry. Kyle whom?"
"Kyle me! Kyle who was in your grammar class last semester! We went on that one really random date with my roommate."
"Oh, Kyle! I'm so sorry! I must have deleted you out of my phone or something. But--I--you're cool, so I don't know why I would have done that. Maybe you were never in my phone...."
"Oh. Well. Remember Jason we doubled with? He's asked a girl to go cross-country skiing this weekend, and I was wondering if you'd like to come along--'cuz, ya know, I never see you anymore."
"I know! It's sad! But--sorry, I've got plans all weekend long."
"Oh. Alright. Well, it was nice talking to you anyway."
"Yeah.... Thanks for calling!"
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
FYI
Last night I went on a date. It was a first date with a girl in my ward. We went to the Draper temple open house. Everyone told me it was a bad idea; they all said, "Kyle, that's gonna be really awkward! Don't make it a first date." I, of course, in my typical style, disregarded everything anyone had to say about it, and we went on a date to the temple.
It was a very nice date. Nothing awkward or dramatic about it. In fact, I've never been on a date that went so smoothly and hitchless. I only mention it on this blog so that you can know that occasionally, every now and then, when the moon is in the right phase and the stars and planets align just so, I can pull off a good date.
Thought you should know.
It was a very nice date. Nothing awkward or dramatic about it. In fact, I've never been on a date that went so smoothly and hitchless. I only mention it on this blog so that you can know that occasionally, every now and then, when the moon is in the right phase and the stars and planets align just so, I can pull off a good date.
Thought you should know.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
A politically offensive post
I fully expect that this will offend some of my politically active friends, but I think it's at least mildly entertaining, so I'm including it. This is my journal entry for last election day (4 Nov 2008). At the time, I was really interested in a girl named Betsy, and that's why this entry reads the way it does.
At the top of the page, I attached my "I Voted Today!" sticker, and then I wrote this:
---
5:17PM
And do you know why I voted today? It certainly wasn't because I liked the candidates (tirade on that to follow shortly). It wasn't because I wanted to show good faith in The System because, frankly, The System sucks! It's broken and corrupted, and I seriously considered following Shawn and Joel in not voting to express my view that The System is down. What moved me to the polls today wasn't even my sustaining of Church officials who condone and encourage political activism (though, in retrospect, that might have been a nobler motivation than mine).
I went and cast my vote for John McCain because Betsy says she likes him.
And you wanna know another thing? I don't feel bad about that at all. I have a notion that I ought to feel like a cad, but I don't. Here's why:
Although it's a syntactic oxymoron, I consider myself a radical conservative in that I want small government: unless I am directly threatened by something that I cannot protect myself from, I want government to stay the heck out of my life. Because of this, I am rather upset with the Republican party right now: they've done a lot to grow the government and to expand the executive power in the past eight years, and I find that abominable coming from a so-called conservative group. Therefore, I wasn't too hot on voting in another GOP candidate.
Barrak Obama (Democratic candidate and media poster child) is far worse, though, because of his socialist ideals. Nevertheless, I considered voting for him for a while because most of his promises could only be fulfilled by acts of Congress, so he struck me as fairly harmless; I thought he'd be a nice figurehead to oversee the continuing downfall of this proud nation. But after a political discussion with Betsy on the phone a couple weekends ago, I realized that voting for a candidate whose politics I unilaterally disagreed with was a bad idea, even if I doubted his ability to enact any of his bad ideas--what if he did?
Then I was fairly resolved to vote for a third party candidate just because I feel like that's the really the only way to make my vote count anyway (true, chances of a third party candidate ever getting elected are infinitismal, but it was a big deal a few years back when Green Peace got enough votes to become federally recognized; I'd like to participate in something like that). But looking at the Utah ballot quickly dissuaded me: Socialist party (no good), Green Peace (blah), Ralf Nader (not my guy), Libertarian (don't like 'em), and the Constitution Party (I like the party, but their condidate's leadership credentials are limited to the fact that he's had his own Baptist churhc in Florida for the past couple decades--no political experience at all).
So John McCain it was. I don't mind him; I just hate his party. But Betsy likes him, and I look forward to honestly telling her I voted for her boy.
That's me.
11:12PM
So. Obama won.
After watching McCain give his concession speech, I called Betsy:
"Howzitgoin'?" I asked.
"I'm pretty good," she said. "But I think I'm going to hold a wake."
We left politics almost immediately and had a most delightful conversation that last nearly an hour (50 minutes and someodd seconds), which I felt very good about.
Except for that it never came up--who I voted for--I never said.
And that's that, I guess.
At the top of the page, I attached my "I Voted Today!" sticker, and then I wrote this:
---
5:17PM
And do you know why I voted today? It certainly wasn't because I liked the candidates (tirade on that to follow shortly). It wasn't because I wanted to show good faith in The System because, frankly, The System sucks! It's broken and corrupted, and I seriously considered following Shawn and Joel in not voting to express my view that The System is down. What moved me to the polls today wasn't even my sustaining of Church officials who condone and encourage political activism (though, in retrospect, that might have been a nobler motivation than mine).
I went and cast my vote for John McCain because Betsy says she likes him.
And you wanna know another thing? I don't feel bad about that at all. I have a notion that I ought to feel like a cad, but I don't. Here's why:
Although it's a syntactic oxymoron, I consider myself a radical conservative in that I want small government: unless I am directly threatened by something that I cannot protect myself from, I want government to stay the heck out of my life. Because of this, I am rather upset with the Republican party right now: they've done a lot to grow the government and to expand the executive power in the past eight years, and I find that abominable coming from a so-called conservative group. Therefore, I wasn't too hot on voting in another GOP candidate.
Barrak Obama (Democratic candidate and media poster child) is far worse, though, because of his socialist ideals. Nevertheless, I considered voting for him for a while because most of his promises could only be fulfilled by acts of Congress, so he struck me as fairly harmless; I thought he'd be a nice figurehead to oversee the continuing downfall of this proud nation. But after a political discussion with Betsy on the phone a couple weekends ago, I realized that voting for a candidate whose politics I unilaterally disagreed with was a bad idea, even if I doubted his ability to enact any of his bad ideas--what if he did?
Then I was fairly resolved to vote for a third party candidate just because I feel like that's the really the only way to make my vote count anyway (true, chances of a third party candidate ever getting elected are infinitismal, but it was a big deal a few years back when Green Peace got enough votes to become federally recognized; I'd like to participate in something like that). But looking at the Utah ballot quickly dissuaded me: Socialist party (no good), Green Peace (blah), Ralf Nader (not my guy), Libertarian (don't like 'em), and the Constitution Party (I like the party, but their condidate's leadership credentials are limited to the fact that he's had his own Baptist churhc in Florida for the past couple decades--no political experience at all).
So John McCain it was. I don't mind him; I just hate his party. But Betsy likes him, and I look forward to honestly telling her I voted for her boy.
That's me.
11:12PM
So. Obama won.
After watching McCain give his concession speech, I called Betsy:
"Howzitgoin'?" I asked.
"I'm pretty good," she said. "But I think I'm going to hold a wake."
We left politics almost immediately and had a most delightful conversation that last nearly an hour (50 minutes and someodd seconds), which I felt very good about.
Except for that it never came up--who I voted for--I never said.
And that's that, I guess.
Take a hike!
This comparatively unexciting story comes to you courtesy of my journal entry dated 27Aug08:
---
Yesterday, I went over to Cinnamon Tree to visit Apartment 55 (Mailee, Jill, Amanda, Jaime, and Sarah). I had promised them (well, Mailee and Sarah) that I'd drop by to perform my monologue for them. When I got there, Amanda came out of her room and said, "You wanna go on a date?"
She wasn't really asking me out: some guy who just moved into CT asked her out, and they were gonna go hiking in Rock Canyon, but she didn't want to spend a first date (with a guy she'd just met) alone out hiking around, so she was looking for someone to double with them.
Jill and I took the job.
William (Amanda's date) showed up shortly thereafter, so I performed my monologue for him and the 55-ers, and then we went hiking.
It was... nice....
Frankly, I think William is a weirdo, and I don't blame Amanda for not wanting to be alone with him.
---
Yesterday, I went over to Cinnamon Tree to visit Apartment 55 (Mailee, Jill, Amanda, Jaime, and Sarah). I had promised them (well, Mailee and Sarah) that I'd drop by to perform my monologue for them. When I got there, Amanda came out of her room and said, "You wanna go on a date?"
She wasn't really asking me out: some guy who just moved into CT asked her out, and they were gonna go hiking in Rock Canyon, but she didn't want to spend a first date (with a guy she'd just met) alone out hiking around, so she was looking for someone to double with them.
Jill and I took the job.
William (Amanda's date) showed up shortly thereafter, so I performed my monologue for him and the 55-ers, and then we went hiking.
It was... nice....
Frankly, I think William is a weirdo, and I don't blame Amanda for not wanting to be alone with him.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Blind date wedding
This story features good ole Confuzzled. Because she has only existed (as far as I'm concerned) outside of cyberspace for one day, this record, rather than coming from my journal, is brought to you courtesy of my Gmail account.
---
It all began with this excerpt from an idle Gmail chat had on 9/13/08:
confuzzled: So I've decided there must be something in the water around here . . .
A couple days later (9/15/08), this Gmail chat occurred:
And so we went to the wedding. It was pretty much the maiden voyage of The Manimal, and it was a blind date with someone I met online--really, there was all sorts of potential for really horrible, awkward, random, painful, hi-larious things to occur, but I regret to say that it went off without much of a hitch (except for the wedding, I guess. Get it? They got--hitched! Ahardyharhar...). There was that one part where I got us lost in a sprawling field and we ended up at the tollbooth entrance to an island and had to turn around and search for a freeway, but even that wasn't too bad because we had plenty of time to kill between the wedding and the reception anyway.
At the reception, they had a guy making balloon animals--balloon butterflies, I might add! They also had complimentary bubbles for all the guests--bubbles, I say! It was pretty much the best reception ever.
Unfortunately, after I took Confuzzled back to her place and then returned to Provo, I developed my first symptoms of salmonella poisoning, so my journal doesn't record many details of the actual social excursion. Just as an aside, though, Confuzzled looked smashingly good in blue. (Are you blushing, Confuzzled?)
So there you have it.
---
It all began with this excerpt from an idle Gmail chat had on 9/13/08:
confuzzled: So I've decided there must be something in the water around here . . .
Everyone I know (my roommates aside) seems to be getting married this summer/fall
10:38 PM I just got another wedding invite in the mail
Except it's a Catholic wedding
That will be a new experience for me
I've only ever been to non-denominational weddings
me: Oh
Getting married is--
I dunno
10:39 PM The cool thing for twenty-somethings in Utah, it seems
Did you know that?
confuzzled: I had noticed, actually
me: I thought you lived in this state a long time....
confuzzled: I've never lived anywhere but this state
10:40 PM I'm just irked because the invitation for the wedding and reception said "Katie and Guest"
me: And you've made it this long without drinking the water?
You must be thirsty
confuzzled: Well, it's mostly college friends . . . so it's something that must have been added to the water in Ogden recently
me: Whatever you do don't drink it
Could be
dangerous....
=)
10:41 PM confuzzled: Well, since I live in Salt Lake, I needn't worry about drinking the Ogden water
me: Oh
right
...silly me...
So all these people getting married are in Ogden?
You have--a lot of connections there?
10:42 PM confuzzled: This particular couple is getting married in Layton . . . but they met in Ogden
And their reception is actually at the Weber Alumni Center
10:43 PM me: It's a Catholic wedding, and it isn't in a church?
confuzzled: The wedding is in a church. The church is in Layton.
The reception is at the alumni center.
me: Ohhh
Okay, I get it
10:44 PM And you're irked because--
Because you're supposed to bring a guest, and if either of you drink the water, it might make for an interesting night in Vegas?
confuzzled: Because I'm supposed to be a guest
10:45 PM me: Cuz Vegas and Ogden are so close....
confuzzled: And I know that in this instance, "guest" = "date"
me: Ah
confuzzled: It's karmic payback, really
me: How so?
confuzzled: I was telling my friend Steve on Thursday how much I dislike asking guys out and how there was no way I'd be asking a guy out any time soon
10:46 PM The invitation came in the mail the next day . . .
me: Well
Serves you right, then
e
r
something like that
[e+r=er]
confuzzled: I caught that
Well, see, I really hate asking guys out because I don't drive
10:47 PM So it's not like I can take them to the event
me: Oh
I see
That makes some sense
...I guess...
10:48 PM confuzzled: I'm kind of wishing I didn't really like both of these people
(The couple getting married both are good friends of mine; we all tutored together at the WSU Writing Center)
10:49 PM Because then I'd not feel guilty about RSVPing "Sorry, not coming"
me: Well, that's what you get for having friends
10:50 PM confuzzled: I know. I should have just been an antisocial jerk.
Then I wouldn't have this problem
me: Well, it's never too late to change, you know
Just lace your RSVP with anthrax or some such
10:51 PM Then there won't be a reception for you to miss
No more potential for guilt for being a no show
(...just for being a murderous terrorist)
10:52 PM confuzzled: You're so helpful!
10:53 PM me: I do what I can
10:54 PM confuzzled: The guy my roommates think I should ask lives in Ogden, so I won't ask him . . . because even if I had him pick me up from my parents', he'd still have to drive down to Centerville, then back to Layton, then to Ogden, then back to Centerville
And I don't think I'm worth the gas money, to be quite frank
me: Woah, easy now
10:55 PM I'd hate for you to squeeze some semblence of kind words out of me
confuzzled: I'm just stating plain fact
And you don't have to squeeze out any kind words
Because I was already roundly chastized by my roommate for making that particular comment.
me: Fat lot of good it did, I see....
10:56 PM confuzzled: It may shock you to learn that I'm just about as stubborn as they come
(Then again, it may not)
me: Nope, didn't shock me
A couple days later (9/15/08), this Gmail chat occurred:
me:
8:57 PM So did you spend yesterday hitting on all the boys in your ward to try to rustle up a date? ;P confuzzled: Yesterday, we actually had the big-stake-conference-type thingie in the Conference Center
So that would be a no
8:58 PM Although between the stress caused by thinking about that, trying to figure out what my comp theory professors wants us to do exactly, and general life pressures, I did manage to give myself a migraine
Because I'm that talented
(And that much a basket case)
me: Wow--
8:59 PM and now you're--
looking at a computer screen?
Bet that's ril good for the migraine!
confuzzled: Oh, it's gone now
me: You're crazy =P
Oh
confuzzled: It was in full force this morning
So I medicated it, called work, and went back to bed
till I had class
Can't miss class
me: Yeah...
9:00 PM confuzzled: As for me being crazy, tell me something I didn't already know ;)
me: I'm crazy, too!
Or did you know that already?
9:01 PM confuzzled: Oh, I was pretty darn sure
me: Well
now you know
Are you really that stressed about that reception thing?
Shoot
9:02 PM When is it?
I don't have a car just now
But I will within a week
I can cruise up to SLC and onward to--
to--
that place you said it was
confuzzled: Layton and Ogden?
To go to a wedding and a reception?
me: Yeah, that one
confuzzled: With some crazy girl?
who, at the moment, is a total wreck?
me: ESPECIALLY a crazy girl
confuzzled: You're more daring than I thought.
me: No
crazy
9:03 PM The distinction is slight but, in this case, vital
And so we went to the wedding. It was pretty much the maiden voyage of The Manimal, and it was a blind date with someone I met online--really, there was all sorts of potential for really horrible, awkward, random, painful, hi-larious things to occur, but I regret to say that it went off without much of a hitch (except for the wedding, I guess. Get it? They got--hitched! Ahardyharhar...). There was that one part where I got us lost in a sprawling field and we ended up at the tollbooth entrance to an island and had to turn around and search for a freeway, but even that wasn't too bad because we had plenty of time to kill between the wedding and the reception anyway.
At the reception, they had a guy making balloon animals--balloon butterflies, I might add! They also had complimentary bubbles for all the guests--bubbles, I say! It was pretty much the best reception ever.
Unfortunately, after I took Confuzzled back to her place and then returned to Provo, I developed my first symptoms of salmonella poisoning, so my journal doesn't record many details of the actual social excursion. Just as an aside, though, Confuzzled looked smashingly good in blue. (Are you blushing, Confuzzled?)
So there you have it.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Take THAT, Dr. So-and-so!
This is from my journal entry for 9 January 2008, my first day at BYU:
---
My English professor (Dr. Claudia Harris) handed out the syllabus and went over it with us. I kinda zoned her out as I flipped through the syllabus on my own, realizing that it was almost identical to the English 100 class I took right after my mission, which was perhaps the least challenging English class of my academic career thus far and not something I want to do again.
At one point, Claudia (she prefers not to go by Doctor) asked what our expectations for the class were. Various students raised their hands and made comments, and after each one, Claudia wrote a one-word summation of the comment on the board.
"Anyone else?" she asked after 4 or 5 comments had been made and summarized on the board.
I raised my hand.
"Yes?"
"I want this class to be a challenge," I said. "If it doesn't make me think or lose sleep at night, I don't think it's worth my time."
A brief silence ensued in which she merely fidgeted with her marker.
"Yes," she said. "We'll be thinking in this class."
She wrote nothing on the board but rather put the marker away and moved on to a new topic of discussion.
At the conclusion of the class, she said something that I felt was directed toward me. I feel that way partly because of what she said but also because, whereas her eyes had roved around the room throughout the class up to that point, for this little monologue, her eyes fastened upon my corner of the room. She appeared to be looking straight at me, so I engaged her in a staring contest.
"I have a Ph.D," she said. "I have taken a lot of college classes, and I learned that I could kind of get a feel for whether or not a professor's teaching style would work for me on the first day of class. If you feel like we're not going to get along, I think you should drop the class: it won't hurt my feelings, and every time I failed to drop a class that I had a bad feeling about, I regretted it."
I couldn't help myself; I smiled. This parting shot won her my respect--and confirmed to me that I was in the wrong class. So I took Claudia's advice and dropped her class.
---
My English professor (Dr. Claudia Harris) handed out the syllabus and went over it with us. I kinda zoned her out as I flipped through the syllabus on my own, realizing that it was almost identical to the English 100 class I took right after my mission, which was perhaps the least challenging English class of my academic career thus far and not something I want to do again.
At one point, Claudia (she prefers not to go by Doctor) asked what our expectations for the class were. Various students raised their hands and made comments, and after each one, Claudia wrote a one-word summation of the comment on the board.
"Anyone else?" she asked after 4 or 5 comments had been made and summarized on the board.
I raised my hand.
"Yes?"
"I want this class to be a challenge," I said. "If it doesn't make me think or lose sleep at night, I don't think it's worth my time."
A brief silence ensued in which she merely fidgeted with her marker.
"Yes," she said. "We'll be thinking in this class."
She wrote nothing on the board but rather put the marker away and moved on to a new topic of discussion.
At the conclusion of the class, she said something that I felt was directed toward me. I feel that way partly because of what she said but also because, whereas her eyes had roved around the room throughout the class up to that point, for this little monologue, her eyes fastened upon my corner of the room. She appeared to be looking straight at me, so I engaged her in a staring contest.
"I have a Ph.D," she said. "I have taken a lot of college classes, and I learned that I could kind of get a feel for whether or not a professor's teaching style would work for me on the first day of class. If you feel like we're not going to get along, I think you should drop the class: it won't hurt my feelings, and every time I failed to drop a class that I had a bad feeling about, I regretted it."
I couldn't help myself; I smiled. This parting shot won her my respect--and confirmed to me that I was in the wrong class. So I took Claudia's advice and dropped her class.
Shoulderpants
I moved into a new ward at this beginning of this school year. One of my first weeks here, I was in Sunday school when a guy was called on to say the prayer, but the person leading the class botched the kid's last name, which is Coatney.
"I'm sorry," the teacher said, "how do you say it?"
"Here," the guy said, standing up to demonstrate to the class. "It's Coatney. Coat"--he touched the arm of the suit coat he was wearing--"knee"--he patted his leg--"Coatney. There. Now you'll never forget."
"Oh, okay," I said. "Shoulderpants. Got it."
The few people sitting right around me (my roommates, mostly) chuckled at my comment. I don't think Mr. Shoulderpants actually heard it--if he did, he made no response. But ever since that day, me and my roommates have referred to him as Shoulderpants.
Today I got called as a Home Evening group leader. As I looked over the list of people in my group just now, I realized that he's in it.
This will most definitely be an exercise in restraint for me, but, should my restraint fail, look for cool follow-up stories in the comments section of this post.
"I'm sorry," the teacher said, "how do you say it?"
"Here," the guy said, standing up to demonstrate to the class. "It's Coatney. Coat"--he touched the arm of the suit coat he was wearing--"knee"--he patted his leg--"Coatney. There. Now you'll never forget."
"Oh, okay," I said. "Shoulderpants. Got it."
The few people sitting right around me (my roommates, mostly) chuckled at my comment. I don't think Mr. Shoulderpants actually heard it--if he did, he made no response. But ever since that day, me and my roommates have referred to him as Shoulderpants.
Today I got called as a Home Evening group leader. As I looked over the list of people in my group just now, I realized that he's in it.
This will most definitely be an exercise in restraint for me, but, should my restraint fail, look for cool follow-up stories in the comments section of this post.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Interro-BANG!
Here is a happy memory from my journal entree for Halloween '07. The Jenny mentioned in this story is not the same as Ice Cream Jenny. During this time in my life, I had a couple of different Jenny's popping up occasionally in my journals, and I didn't know their last names, so gave them titles. One was Ice Cream Jenny; this story involves Saxophone Jenny (so called because we both enjoyed playing the saxophone--in fact this is what I was referring to in "Not you! I meant the saxophone!").
So here you have it, the birth of Interro-BANG!:
---
As mentioned 14oct07, I'm co-hosting the ward "Untalent Show." During a Sunday-night meeting of the activities committee and we two emcees (Saxophone Jenny and I), we decided that the show would have a superhero theme. After the meeting, Jenny and I decided that throughout next week (the week leading up to the show), we're gonna burst in on random apartments while wearing our outfits and do crazy silliness to advertise the show and encourage participation--and we're gonna get all that on film!
Last night, I got a fantastic idea for what to do, and today I got it together. All it took was a nylon book cover from Big Lots, some large blue underpants from Toss, my running pants, a gray long-sleeved shirt, and a printout of a controversial punctuation mark and Interro-BANG was born.
I'm so excited! The get up is SO DANG FUNNY! Oh man! I was laughing so hard in front of the mirror.
But wait; it gets better:
Ben Hubbard came over to hang out tonight. While he was here, Sarah came and knocked on the door to invite us over to a dance the other Cinnamon Tree ward was having at the basketball court (she didn't know Hubbard was here, but she knows him from marching band). We went over, but it wasn't all that great, so we came back fairly quickly.
Not too far from my apartment door, Saxophone Jenny and Becca (her old roommate) were standing, talking.
"Jenny!" I said. "I have my superhero outfit, and it is awesome! Oh man! It's so funny!"
"So," she said, "what's it like so I can kinda make mine the same?"
"Hold on," I said; "I'll go put it on and be right back."
I ran inside and put on my running pant and the long-sleeved shirt (which had the red interrobang taped on the front of it) and then pulled the blue underpants on over the top of them. I put the book cover on my head, which makes it look like a bright blue Batman helmet made out of spandex with a desert safari neck cover thing. I wrapped my red quilt around my neck like a cape, then ran outside and nearly pounced on them, yelling, "Interro-BANG!"
They thought iwas funny and all, but the best part was Becca saying, "Um. You're wearing men't briefs--on the outside."
Ahahahahahaha! That's right I am!
After a minute or so, I said, "Okay, I'm going back inside now."
"Good idea," Becca said.
It was so great!
So here you have it, the birth of Interro-BANG!:
---
As mentioned 14oct07, I'm co-hosting the ward "Untalent Show." During a Sunday-night meeting of the activities committee and we two emcees (Saxophone Jenny and I), we decided that the show would have a superhero theme. After the meeting, Jenny and I decided that throughout next week (the week leading up to the show), we're gonna burst in on random apartments while wearing our outfits and do crazy silliness to advertise the show and encourage participation--and we're gonna get all that on film!
Last night, I got a fantastic idea for what to do, and today I got it together. All it took was a nylon book cover from Big Lots, some large blue underpants from Toss, my running pants, a gray long-sleeved shirt, and a printout of a controversial punctuation mark and Interro-BANG was born.
I'm so excited! The get up is SO DANG FUNNY! Oh man! I was laughing so hard in front of the mirror.
But wait; it gets better:
Ben Hubbard came over to hang out tonight. While he was here, Sarah came and knocked on the door to invite us over to a dance the other Cinnamon Tree ward was having at the basketball court (she didn't know Hubbard was here, but she knows him from marching band). We went over, but it wasn't all that great, so we came back fairly quickly.
Not too far from my apartment door, Saxophone Jenny and Becca (her old roommate) were standing, talking.
"Jenny!" I said. "I have my superhero outfit, and it is awesome! Oh man! It's so funny!"
"So," she said, "what's it like so I can kinda make mine the same?"
"Hold on," I said; "I'll go put it on and be right back."
I ran inside and put on my running pant and the long-sleeved shirt (which had the red interrobang taped on the front of it) and then pulled the blue underpants on over the top of them. I put the book cover on my head, which makes it look like a bright blue Batman helmet made out of spandex with a desert safari neck cover thing. I wrapped my red quilt around my neck like a cape, then ran outside and nearly pounced on them, yelling, "Interro-BANG!"
They thought iwas funny and all, but the best part was Becca saying, "Um. You're wearing men't briefs--on the outside."
Ahahahahahaha! That's right I am!
After a minute or so, I said, "Okay, I'm going back inside now."
"Good idea," Becca said.
It was so great!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)