Saturday, June 16, 2012

A Girl Can Dream

My sister just showed me this precious, precious gem (thank the heavens for youtube, right?) and it got me thinking about my life. There are so many hopes, goals, and aspirations that I have in my little old heart that just sit there. Melissia, er I mean Melissa has shown me that dreams are meant to be heard! No matter how far-fetched, unrealistic, or personal they might be. So Melissa, I want to say thank you. Thank you for keeping it real.

This is a piece I wrote after some encouragement from this video entitled, "Michael Buble Fan Fiction: The BYU Dance"

"This is hopeless," Michael sighed, as he took a long sip from his water bottle he kept backstage. "How can I sing about love when I don't even know what it feels like?!"
"Michael, Michael... just take a deep breath." his manager coaxed. "We have this same conversation at every concert, but you somehow always manage to come through for me in the end. You'll be fine, now get back out there!"
"Not this time." The dreamy singer in a well-tailored suit asserted. He dragged a hand down his perfect face in an exasperated sigh. "This is my last performance, Chris. I can't do it anymore. It hurts too much! I need somebody to share my life with."
He sexily strutted back out to the stage set up in the Garden Court of the Wilkinson Student Center. He looked out at the sea of couples swaying to the music, and felt sadness well up in the very depths of his manly chest. Suddenly, the door to the Garden Court flew open, and in walked the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life. His jaw dropped, and he completely missed his cue to come in on his hit song "Everything", but that didn't matter to him. Nothing mattered to him, but knowing the beautiful angel's name. He jumped from the stage and ran to meet the blonde bombshell.
"Hey, I'm Michael." he said, his eyes scanning her body from top to bottom. It was obvious from his expression that he liked what he saw.
"I'm Kylia Early." the beautiful co-ed replied. "I'm a mix of Norwegian and Danish. In a hot way."
"Obviously. I noticed that you aren't wearing a wedding ring."
"Neither are you." she pointed out quite observantly.
"Yeah, that Argentinian super model I married wasn't hot enough for me. I mean, now that I've seen you I don't even know what I liked about her. Let's dance." he said as he escorted her out to the floor.
Even though President Samuelson was there chaperoning the dance, he threw the honor code to the wind and let Kylia and Michael dance with their bodies pressed tightly together. It was obvious that their connection was established in the pre-existance. Dear old Cecil decided right there and then that a student as beautiful and desirable as Kylie, I mean Kylia, should be put on full ride scholarship indefinitely. And be granted automatic A's for any course she chose to take. And have her face painted next to the big "Y" on the mountain.
Michael slowly leaned down to her ear and whispered seductively, "Your calves aren't fat, they're super athletic looking. Plus that push up bra is really doing it's job; the girls look great."
"Oh, Michael," Kylia sighed, "you know just what to say to take a girl's breath away."
"Then say you will come away with me tonight. We will run away to New Zealand and I will sing beautiful poetry at you while you sit there and look hot." Michael begged, looking like an adorable puppy dog.
"Ok." said Kylia. They took a taxi to the airport where his private jet was waiting and they made out all the way to New Zealand. The End.




near death experiences by kerri and brianne

africa is just full of surprises.
you wake up every morning
wondering if this will be your last day on earth.
we would just like to share with you a FEW of our crazy experiences.
sympathy cards are welcome.
 - falling into the nile river in some crazy insane rapids similar to a giant turbo mode washing machine. we were under water for at least 20 minutes. (or something around there) BOTH of us saw our lives flash before our eyes. we even went so far as to say goodbye to our fiance's in our heads.
- getting parasites. one of us was even lucky enough to get sent to an african hospital for 3 days. she lost 30 pounds and is now weighing in at a little over 75 big ones. nice and strong for her wedding day.
- near death by warthog. we literally almost lost our lives to a warthog. we were minding our own business and posing in a picture when that nasty thing charged at us! we both screamed and it took about 10 minutes to calm down. we lost so much respect for pumba.
-walking on a bridge across some raging water. ghetto african bridge got a big chunk missing out of it and one of us failed to notice the missing chunk and fell right through. if it weren't for handrails, there would be one less foxy lady in this world.
- boda boda wreck. whats a boda boda you ask? a little ghetto african motorcycle that these usually creepy men drive us around on. we were just driving down the street and before i knew it, we ran head on into a car! i (kerri) will probably have a nice scar on my calf for the remainder of my life. quality.

so anyways, i hope reading this you found yourself pitying us with great intensity.
because we kinda deserve it.

but really, africa isn't all bad. we've had some way good times too, believe it or not.
we'll write about that later though.

we will just leave you with this moment that captures us about to be thrown into the raging rapids.


Tuesday, June 12, 2012

NoOb STaTuS

Noob.  I am the office noob.  They might as well replace the word "Intern" on my badge with "NoOb".  Which by the way, INTERN is written in big, red, ALL CAPS letters.  As if I don't stand out enough already, they had to make sure the fact that I am an intern is clear to all.  So needless to say, I only pull out my badge to quickly swipe through security every morning and then it gets shoved back into my briefcase as quickly as humanly possible.  But I'm afraid that regardless of whether or not my badge is visible, people always know I'm an intern.  Nevertheless, I still refuse to sport my badge, in case of the rare instance that someone doesn't automatically assume I'm an intern.  So here are my theories as to how everyone has the uncanny ability to know that I am an intern:

1. I look young.  People always ask which one is older, me or my sister.  She's 15.  I'm 20 and a half. That's a problem. (Yes, twenty and a half.  I just had my half birthday.  Two days ago.  I didn't get a single half birthday wish from any of yall.  Terrible friends.  Did I celebrate my half birthday?  Definitely.  Memorial Day was so two weeks ago and the 4th of July (my favorite holiday besides Christmas) isn't for another 3.5 weeks.  So naturally my half birthday breaks up this long stint of no celebrations and I am most grateful it does.  So naturally, I show my gratitude by celebrating.  And this year consisted of eating at The Varsity.  World's largest drive-in.  Best onion rings I ever had.  And delicious fried pies.  Followed by going to Centennial Olympic Park in downtown.  They had the Olympic rings and they sprayed water out of them.  Within 10 seconds of setting eyes on that beauty I placed my beloved phone in the hands of a trustworthy caregiver and ran through that blissful water playground.  All these little kids were playing games and I tried to get in on them but they kept running away from me.  I don't know if it was part of the game or if they thought I was creepy.  Either way it kinda hurt.  I was the loser kid on the playground.  No one wanted to be my friend.  Thank goodness I was cool in elementary school and never had to deal with that until the age of 20.5.  Which at this point in my life my confidence and self-esteem was high enough that I was able to easily absorb such a devastating blow.  Anyways, it was like 10:30 at night so after I am drenched head to toe and am pretty chilly I realized I need to air dry.  So I run through this park and out onto the streets of Atlanta.  And then back into the park because I realize I'm barefoot and that just kinda grossed me out because admittedly, the streets of Atlanta aren't the cleanest. I also found an empty concern venue and mounted the stage and sang Celine Dion's "It's All Coming Back to Me Now" at the top of my lungs.  But after a few minutes I realized that I was singing very loudly and the people walking by were looking at me very strangely.  So I realized that they were probably mistaking my less than desirable singing voice for intoxication and with a wink of my eye, and a whip of my hair, I quickly dismounted the stage for lack of desire to have a run in with the law that night. It was so many life dreams come true.  Singing on stage to a nonexistent crowd, Celine Dion, running the streets of Atlanta, seeing a crime scene (Oh yeah, forgot to mention that.  There was the yellow tape that says "Crime Scene Investigation"and everything.  My money is a stabbing.  Someone got shanked.  Yikes.) Anyways, needless to say it was an amazing half birthday.  Half birthdays are great.  They are also very undervalued.  Celebrate them, people.  You think that's weird? False.  It is not.)  Woah.  Holy long tangent.  But anyways, I look young.  Or maybe it's just that I'm short.  Regardless.  They always know I am an intern.  I get on the elevator the other day and the guy is like, "So you're an intern." And I'm frantically check myself to make sure I'm not wearing my badge.  I, of course, am not because I have self-respect, so I'm like "Whaaaat?  How did you know?"  Curse my baby face and vertical challengedness.  Dead give away.




                                 

2. I get lost.  And when I get lost, people always know I'm lost.  I don't know how they know.  Maybe it's because I'll walk by their cubicle like 5 times.  Maybe they have overly acute senses and can sense that I am lost.  Or maybe it's because my facial expressions match those of the picture below. (This is by no means meant to be degrading towards our 43rd president, George W. Bush.  I love Dubya and would never even dream of belittling him.) But before I can even ask someone to point me in the direction of conference room D7 or whatever obscure, remote place I am trying to find, they will always ask me if I'm lost.  Inevitably, I always am.  (Unless I am on my way to the cafeteria or the parking garage.  I know how to get food and get home.  Crucial.)  So they will then walk me to wherever I am trying to get and drop me off with a cookie and a pinch  on the cheek.  Okay, they don't give me a cookie or a pinch on the cheek (although I'd totes be down for a cookie). Getting dropped off at a meeting screams one of two things.  1) "Who is this chick?  She must be a big deal. She has a personal escort to all her meetings.  Lemme get one of those." Or 2) "NOOB.  She gets lost and only finds her ways to meeting because people take pity on her."  If people go for option two, that's fine. It still beats being lost.  The other interns leave early for meetings to factor in time to get lost. On the other hand, I have people escort me to my meetings, giving the false pretense of importance.  Additionally, I waste no time being lost.  Also, networking. You get lots of face time with all different players in the business.  Genius.

                                   

Upon deeper thought, I think my "lost face" may look more along these lines.


3. I do things like the story that follows.  So Friday I'm craving a hot chocolate something fierce.  But it's in the middle of the day, and it's summer.  So really, it shouldn't be hot.  So I get this brilliant idea.  Frozen hot chocolate.  Starbucks does it.  Why can't I?  Well here's why.  So I go and make my hot chocolate, which by the way, there is a machine that makes it for you automatically. You just put the packet in the machine and it measures out the water and everything.  Still blows my mind.  So I have my cup of hot chocolate and I stick it in the freezer.  But before placing it in the freezer I try to strategically place it where it won't spill.  I was like probably shouldn't put it on the door in case someone opens the freezer in a fury.  I know sometimes I do that when I have the hungries and I just can't seem to get to my pizza rolls quick enough.  So door is out.  So I place it on the wire rack.  It didn't register in my mind that the wire rack also was not a choice option because it could easily tip, as happened about 5 seconds after placing my cup of hot chocolate on the rack.  Tipped over, spilled all over the shelf below and everyone's Lean Cuisine frozen meals.  After saying a few choice words, I just stood there and laughed.  Because it was pretty funny.  But then I realize it's 11:45.  Lunch time is upon us.  People are gonna be coming to get their lunches at any minute.  So I begin frantically removing all the food and wiping down the boxes of Lean Cuisine because they are getting all soggy.  I'm preparing for the worst, expecting people to start coming in at any minute to find me man handling their lunches.  I'm planning out what I am going to say "Oh hey, I'm just wiping down your lunch because I spilled my hot chocolate all over it.  Why was my hot chocolate in the freezer you may ask?  Because I was making a juvenile concoction.  Sorry your box is all soggy.  Also, you may only want to cook it half as long as the box says because it is probably halfway thawed by now.  Good day sir." I thought about tacking "Have a good lunch" on at the end but I thought it best not to because it would draw more attention to the fact that they may not be capable of having a good lunch because I very well may have ruined it.  Thank goodness only a few people came in and luckily none of them were the patrons whose lunches had been affected by this incident.  I just stepped out of the way so they could open the fridge and they just looked at me weird and I said "Yeah, had a little mishap."  And they just kinda awkwardly smiled.  And then the left.  And then I laughed.  Best part is, turns out, frozen hot chocolate making should be left for professionals.  And I am by no means a professional.  Also, turns out homemade frozen hot chocolate isn't what I expected at all. It was one of those things that sounds like an awesome idea in my head.  But upon execution...not so awesome.  I was sorely disappointed. It tasted like an ice cube with a hint of chocolate.  Also, it was the consistency of a slushy.  Not at all what I expected.  Somehow in my mind I thought it was going to taste like a frosty.  Which also makes no sense because frosty's are ice cream based.  Not water based.  Why didn't I think of that before this whole fiasco?  NoOOob.

This is how I pictured the end result of my frozen hot chocolate.  Obviously minus the whipped cream and toppings.  This is not at all how things turned out.  

4.  I always say the wrong thing.  We had a breakfast my first week so my I could meet my team and they went around the room and the all got to ask me questions to get to know me.  My boss asked me who my celebrity crush was.  My answer.  Andy Samberg.  Afterwords I realized I probably should have picked someone that people consider more dignified and classy, like Leonardo DiCaprio.  Not the star of Hot Rod, and "I'm on a Boat".  I was also asked what my favorite movie was.  Nacho Libre.  Obvs.  But after answering I realized I should have said something like The Da Vinci Code or The Count of Monte Cristo so they thought I read classic literature and enjoyed thought provoking, movies with a well developed story line rather than juvenile humor.  Whoops.

5. Today I once again wanted some hot chocolate.  But I didn't want it hot.  And I didn't want to have another frozen hot chocolate incident.  Neither did I want to eat that stuff again.  Yikes.  So then I remember how I used to always just eat the packets.  Lick your finger and eat it like Fun Dip.  Naturally.  So I'm doing that.  And one of the sugar granules does down the wrong tube or whatever.  I don't know how to explain it medically.  I'm not a doctor.  But I start coughing and hacking for like five minutes so everyone around me is like what is this chick's deal?  Did she just light up her first cig in there or something?  But anyone, can choke, not just interns.  So I continue enjoying my afternoon snack.  Then in walks a co-worker, my finger covered in hot chocolate powder mid-way to my mouth.  No recovery there.

6.  The last reason I am always dubbed as an intern is probably because I am an intern.  And a noob.  I am still amazed that I have my own cubicle with my name outside it, one of those Lenovo Think Pad laptops, an official Home Depot email with a signature at the bottom with the Home Depot logo.  And what really gets me, still gets me every time- an extension number. My first day I was totes wigging.  Number one rule of not looking like a noob is PLAY IT COOL.  I was not a rule abiding citizen that day.  I may or may not have taken pictures of my new surrounding and sent them to my mom.  I also may or may not have gotten caught taking the above mentioned pictures.  Also, I am overly excited by everything there.  Everything from the big auditorium with the microphones in front of each seat which totes makes me feel like a member of congress, to the M&M machine that doesn't require money, to the baskets full of candy free for the taking, to the Country Chic lotion in the bathroom, and most importantly, the pellet ice like they have at Cafe Rio.  I eat 4 cups of that ice everyday.  It may or may not be my favorite part of my job.  Also, the M&M machine.  Not only are they free.  But peanut.  My favorite.  So obviously I take full advantage of this situation, or blessing, if you will.  The other day I dispensed a little more than anticipated, and as I'm walking back to my cubicle cupping a hefty amount of peanut M&Ms in my hands I pass several key players in my department including the VP of Decor.  (Yes hands.  Plural.  Way too many to be held in one hand.)  Nothing says intern like hoarding M&Ms.

As I wrap up this rather hefty blog post I am realizing that there are many reasons that I am instantly dubbed an intern.  Moral of the story, the saying "Actions speak louder than words" really is true.  Or in my case, "Actions speak in the place of words."  But it's all good.  I've embraced my intern status and will gladly take my place at the bottom of the totem pole.  Rock it, love it, embrace it, welcome it.  My motto for noob status.  And life.  Over and out.