Very frustrated

Im frustrated with Blogger right now. Thats all im going to say.

Riding with my Dad

So I drove down to Utah today with my dad. I have basically decided that he is my favorite person to travel with. Lets just say that I got all of my genes from my dad... so when we get together we do stupid stuff. Because we are both dorks.

For example... I take great pleasure in poking my dad in the stomach until he shouts "HEE HEE" like the pillsberry doughbough man. And he says "HEE HEE" every time. Because he knows if he doesn't, he will have to suffer through hours of endless poking.

Poor guy

And my dad and I have a bunch of dance moves that we have choreographed together... mostly they consist of drum solos and the occasional guitar solo. But they are synchronized, non-the-less.

At one point, my dad looked down at my leg. I saw the bruise that was on my knee just after he did.

He pushed my bruise.... and this made me very, very angry.

ME: What did you do that for, jerk?

DAD:.......... you poked my belly. twice. So that means I get to poke your bruise once more.

ME: poke my dad's belly again.

DAD: looked very upset

ME: Fine. push my bruise.

He did. Twice. And I wasn't pleased, but glad to be even.

Just before he left to go camping, I poked him three times in the belly. The last words he said to me were "..........HEEHEE."

Most unproductive day ever? I think so.

So today I stayed home from seeing my favorite niece and nephew, my sister, and my two best friends in order to pack up for Provo. In my mind, I was like "Now, Kara I know that you want to see all of these people, but you have to pack up today, because you are leaving in the morning and you aren't even remotely packed." My brain won the argument.

So I woke up at 9... without an alarm clock. Got showered, got dressed, did my makeup.

And that is when the unproductiveness began.

So I went to my suitcase and opened it, thinking "I will start by organizing what is already in my suitcase. And so I did for a whole 14 seconds, before I started humming a song and then realizing that I really really really really really really want to play it on piano.

67 minutes later, I tore myself from the piano.

I decide to do laundry, which I actually do. (YAY ME!) and then I turned back to my suitcase... and saw a book that was laying there.

189 pages later, I go back to my suitcase. I manage to get all of my drugs in one zip-lock bag (I am a bit of a druggie, I will admit) and I felt so pleased with myself, I decided to take a nap.

And now.... sigh, now I'm blogging.

And I'm going out to dinner tonight.... and I want to spend time with my family before I leave.

This isn't good.

GOODBYE BLOG. I AM GOING TO GO BE PRODUCTIVE.... productive in finding ways to be unproductive. heehee

mirror drawings

So today I decided to leave my family a little memory of me, seeing as I am going to be leaving back to Provo fairly soon. So I drew a self-portrait of me in a towel in my foggy mirror.

Next time anyone takes a shower and fogs up the mirror, they will see this.


You are very welcome family.

Not the best blogger....

Sorry guys that I am not the best blogger. I don't give you guys a new post every day. BUT I try to make it so when I do post something, that it is freaking ridiculously long and somewhat entertaining...

Ok, scratch that, we all know that my blogs aren't really that great. I do ramble and I have a million spelling errors, I'm sure. But I try, dear readers, I try. :)

Anyways, today I woke up at 9:30. ON MY OWN ACCORD!!!! And I went running like ... a mile. Ok I ran/walked a mile. But I was really really proud of myself. Ok, and maybe half of that mile was downhill. But still...

Ok, so maybe I walked down the downhill part because my toes hurt from wearing too small of shoes the day before. The point of the story is that I tried to exercise.

Want to know something sad? To this day, I don't know how to spell the word exercise. Here are the ways that I try to respell it when spell check screams at me, telling me that I spelled the word wrong.

Excersize

Exsercize

Exersize

Exercize.


It is quite sad, I know. For some reason, I always have to throw in a Z somewhere. Say the word out loud. It sounds like there should be a Z. Lets break it apart. Ex - er - size.

English confuses me.

Anyways, after my good ol' exersizing, I decided to play with my 5 baby kittens that I discovered recently. I took them all out onto the only dry spot of grass in my entire yard and played with them. I have excema, and cats basically make me break out in horrible hives.

But these kitties are SO CUTE!!! So I play with them regardless, my arms covered in red splotches and tiny white bumps. At one point, I started screaming, because three of them decided they wanted to climb up my red tank top. Literally, I was screaming hysterically.

I happened to glance over to my house that was two feet away from me.

I saw an open window.

To my mom's room.

In which my mom was sleeping.

............................................................... I was scared.



I heard angry noises from my mom's room. They sounded like a centipede/dragon/gorilla being awakened after 5 years of hibernation.

I panicked. I scooped up all of the kitties in one hand and clasped them to my chest, frantically whispering in their ear "shhhhhhhhh, shhhhhhhhhh, shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." I threw them back into their little home (to which I apologize to them now... poor little kitties didn't deserve to be thrown... but I was so panicked that my judgment was clouded.)

I ran into the house, and closed the door quietly behind me. I ran into the kitchen and sat down at the table, in hopes that when my mom/monster emerged from her bedroom, that she would think that it wasn't me screaming outside of her window.

Instead, my mom just got in the shower. Leaving me in a puddle of my own sweat, covered in hives, wishing so desperately that I was in the shower instead of her.

My mom knows how to punish. Even when she isn't aware that someone needs punishing.

p.s. I just told my mom that I wrote a blog about her. She asked me to read it to her. After I was done, she just stared at me for a while. After a considerable awkward silence, she said, "Go take a shower."

p.s.s Yes. I decided to blog instead of showering. That is how much I love you all.

p.s.s.s I'm going to shower now.

Brother on my computer

So my brother asked me if he could use my computer. I, of course, say yes. I left all of my tabs open, because I am incredibly stupid.

Remember that one picture I drew of my brain crazy excited because I never watch TV anymore? Well, my brother Travis added a little something extra to it. And here it is!


Thank you Travis. I think you gave this picture that little extra something to make it amazing. :)

Getting behind on TV shows is noooo good

So as of right now, I am behind on a million tv shows. Desperate Housewives is playing in the background, and it takes all of my will power not to turn and look at the TV.

I just heard the words "Ange... come with me to Oregon before the bomb goes off... or I will put a bullet in your head.... and I will kill him."

WHAT IS HAPPENING? I am so very confused... but I know that if I watch it, I will get only more confused. I will find out that couples have broken up, and new couples have formed. I will find out that someone is pregnant, but not with her boyfriends baby, but with her best friends husband who turns out to be her brother. So an incest baby is in her womb and she will try jumping down the stairs to kill it because her actual boyfriend doesn't believe in abortion and if she aborts the baby in a clinic he won't take communion and he will complain he is going to hell... she will end up breaking her neck and being paralazyed and I will be so confused as to why she is in a wheel chair.

This is why I don't get behind on TV shows. I like to know what is happening, who is with who... I like knowing what I am watching. But... college has destroyed my TV life. Here are a list of shows that I used to watch:

Scrubs
Friends
Grey's Anatomy
Desperate Housewives
Brothers and Sisters
Lost
Glee
Wildfire
A bunch of disney channel shows
House
......... I know that there are more, but my mind has been drained of TV knowledge.

Here is the list of the shows I am caught up on now.











Depressing, I know.

My brain is like buzzing at a million miles an hour. Normally I have about 20 hours of TV a week to slow down my brain so I can walk around in a blissful daze... looking something like this
And then, when I go a week without watching tv, and suddenly I can focus... my brain starts to buzz and I start to get all hyper and I look something like this.



Moral of the story... I need to start watching more TV. But alas, this will not happen, because I am going to be CAMPING ALL SUMMER for my job!! ......... this could get very dangerous for my own health. Soon my blogs with be nothing but run-on sentences and weird sayings....

What am I saying? My blogs sound like that already! :)

Cosmic Bowling

So I went cosmic bowling last night with my best friend from high school, Anna. (I took a long time debating whether or not to actually say names in this post, but as I wrote this blog half way through, I decided that this post would make a lot more sense if I actually used names. If anyone has a problem with it, I will totally change it back to using mysterious names... (but by then everyone will already know who people are, so THERE))

Anyways, Anna took her boyfriend Stuart, who also took his best friend... who I don't exactly remember the name too, even though he was pretty cute and I thought he was cool... I'm pretty sure his name is Joe, and his last name is something that rhymes with pecker. The only reason I remembered this was because I remembered when Anna told me what his last name was, I responded with "Like rhymes with pecker?" and she just looked at me funny and said, "I guess......."

Anyways, me, Joe, Stuart, and Anna go bowling. Anna forgets her socks, and I rub it in her face that I brought mine. Anna's face looked so sad and depressed, that I offered to let her borrow one of my own socks, so that we each could endure half of the nastiness of putting your foot in an ugly shoe where a thousand other people's foot has been... unprotected.

But then Anna was like "I'm just going to go buy some socks at Fred Meyers."

I remember thinking of how much of a genius Anna was for thinking of this. I was completely ready to get athletes foot on one of my feet. In my mind there was no other option.

So we go to Fred Meyers, and Stuart and Joe instantly go to the technological section ....... oh, did I mention that they are both geniuses and that they share jokes that are so complicated that I completely feel like a moron in their presence as they talk? I didn't? Well, lets give you an exaple of their normal every-day conversation:

Stuart: Yah on Iron Man 2 they create a new element! (Laughter between Joe and Stuart)

Joe: Haha my question is how long was the (he says some fancy word that I can't remember) ?

Stuart: I was totally thinking the same thing! And apparently they used Borridium (again, I don't know what element he said, but it was something very brainy sounding) as one of the elements

Joe: Laughs.... because he legitimately thinks its funny.

Me: (eyes glaze over as I go into a temporary coma... I kind of look like this
















Anyways, Stuart and Joe go do smart things as Anna and I search for socks. And then it happened. We stumbled upon the greatest display of socks ever exhibited.

Knee.....High.... Socks.....

For some reason, the idea of wearing knee high socks bowling was very exciting to Anna and I. Like, we thought it was going to be the coolest thing ever. No one would ever be as cool as us if we had those knee high socks. We were both wearing shorts at the time, and we thought it would be very stylish to wear the socks with the shorts. So we picked out the cutest ones and proceeded to the checkout.

But soon, we discovered that we didn't want the boys to know of our knee high socks until we got to the bowling alley. So we became ninjas, darting around Fred Meyers grasping our knee high socks to our chests, eyes peeled for any sign of the boys. Anna buys our socks and we practically sprint to the car. I call Stuart on my phone and tell him we are in the car, but I said it in a very creep and deep voice that was like "WE ARE IN THE CAR......... (deep breathing)"

Anna suddenly starts freaking out, screaming, "PUT THE SOCKS IN MY PURSE! PUT THE SOCKS IN MY PURSE!!!!!!" But I couldn't, because I was randomly flossing my teeth and my gums had started to bleed (I don't floss often) and I had to take care of that before I could take care of our super-secret socks.

So Anna frantically stuffs them in her purse in time before the boys get in the car. At this point Anna and I are beaming with excitement to put on our new socks (to which the boys were completely oblivious) Finally we get to the bowling alley, and TWALA. Socks were on feet, and I felt like a super hero about to go battle the bowling-ball-stealing-demon who possesses the girl's bathroom.

All in all, a good night. Who couldn't feel happy when rocking socks that cool?

Having no car

So I decided that having no car is the worst feeling in the world.

Recently I flew down to San Diego (best trip EVER, I must say... I will have more blogs about San Diego later, so I'm not going to talk much on it.) Anyways, I flew back to Homedale Idaho, which means that my beautiful 1989 Chevi Celebrity named Floyd is back in Provo.

I had hoped that maybe we would have some old clunker car for me to utilize back at the house... but unfortunately, my dad only has his truck and my mom her car. My mom doesn't like me using her car, because she knows that I am probably the worst driver ever, second only to the girl who continuously texts and drives and ended up murdering a lady and her baby, but I might even be that bad, because even though I dont text and drive, I sing really loudly and dance and drive, which in my opinion is more dangerous because sometimes the dance moves that I use require BOTH hands, so I have to take my hands off the wheels for a good ten seconds and use my knees to drive. Apparently that makes me a bad driver. My dad, on the other hand, is all for letting me use his truck, probably because he hopes that I will wreck it and he will get a new one. Unfortunately, my dad's truck is a manual, and I have never been able to master that darn stick-shift.

I remember a guy that I once liked tryed to teach me stick shift. We were just pleasantly driving around before a movie started in his white truck, having an enjoyable conversation that didn't involve cars. And then suddenly he pulls into a giant parking lot, that was completely abandoned. My thought? "Dang... I'm going to get some action!"

But he just gets out of the truck, walks around to my side of the truck, opens the door and pulls me out. I thought, "Ok, we can do kiss outside if you want..." I smiled, and he was like "We are going to teach you how to drive with a clutch."

Lets just say the next hour consisted of me near tears as I consistently kill his truck. I would restart his car, stomp on the clutch as hard as I could possibly manage, and say, "I can't do this... please don't make me do this."

BOY: You can do this!

ME: No ... no I really can't. (hyperventilating)

BOY: All you have to do is--

ME: You have already told me what to do! I CAN'T DO IT, that's the problem.

BOY: Yes, you can.

ME: I'm killing your truck... I am slowly murdering your truck.... (proceed to put my head on the steering wheel...)

I failed to drive his truck past the first gear...

Which leaves me carless in Homedale Idaho. I am hopelessly dependent on friends driving me around... in my head I think out my driving plans like some hitchhiker. "OK, if I can get a ride with my mom at 6 in the morning to go to Anna's, and then later that day we can go to the movies in Nampa, and then Bri can come and get me from Nampa and take me to Boise. And then Ashley can take me to Caldwell when she goes to work, and then my mom can take me home."

But my amazing friends (Bri and Lee) end up driving all the way out to Homedale to get me. :) And all of my detailed planning goes out the window.

So I'm making a blog...

So ... I have been reading a lot of blogs lately. And I was said to myself "Hey... you are smart and amusing, Kara... you could start your own blog." But then my two sides to my brain got in an argument.

Positive side: You can do it! You are amazing! Go to blogspot right now!

Negative side: You are a stupid turd-face! Yah, you might have good ideas, but then once you start typing them down they start to blend together until all you are left with is nasty mashed together crap.

Positive side: Hey..... that wasn't very nice. Sometimes if Kara thinks really hard and slows her million-miles-an-hour brain down just a bit, and then rereads what she writes 14 times, her thoughts make sense... kind of.

Negative side: Exactly my point. Kara would never read over her crap... you know this, Possi (Negative's nickname for Positive Side)

Positive side: uh..... Kara can move her pinky toe independently from all her other toes, which means she can do ANYTHING.

And here I am.

You might be wondering : why the weird title "Small Town Side Effects?" Well, curious blog-reader (if I even have a reader yet... as of now this is my own personal diary, because no one knows of me yet. But soon... yes, very soon, my diary will be known to the world!).......... where was I going with this?

Oh yes, ahem. Curious blog-reader, I grew up in a small town called Homedale Idaho. And because of growing up in this town, I am permanently damaged as an adult.

For example, I met a guy who lives in my apartment complex not too long ago. Sure enough I developed somewhat of a crush on him... not too big of a crush, because two of my roommates also liked him, and I didn't want to become a man-thief, so I kept my undying love to him a secret.

One day we were talking, and the generic question "Where are you from" came up. I proudly answered "Homedale Idaho. You probably have never heard of it, it is a small town outside --" (I was about to dive into details about my town, where it was located, and the high rates of inbreeding before Crush rudely interrupted me.)

Crush: yah I know homedale. My parents are from there.

Me: (silence)

Crush: (awkward silence)

Me: (look of pure disappointment on my face)

Crush: Uh...... whats wrong?

Me: Your family is from Homedale?

Crush: .......... ya

Me: (Sighed very loudly... put my head between my knees.) We are probably cousins or something

Crush: hahahahahahaa

(clearly he didn't grasp the seriousness of the situation... I can understand why, seeing as how he didn't actually GROW UP in Homedale. Had he grown up in Homedale, he would have understood what living in the same small town entails. It means that if you wanted to date somebody in high school, you had to do a genealogy check on the person, tracing your family back generations to make sure that you WERE NOT related to them. And most times you were. And most times, people dated anyway.)

So I called up my mom, and gave her my crush's last name. She was like, "oh yah... your great aunt is cousins with his 2nd cousin twice removed." I sat there for a while, trying to figure out how that made me and Crush related, and wondering if our children would have eleven toes if we were to have kids. Reason won. I had to end my secret undying love for Crush.

So that next Sunday, I wrote Crush a love note (I live in BYU housing, and every Sunday there is a giant love note writing fest... everyone writes everyone little notes that say things like "you are really cool" or "I like your hair.") So I wrote one to Crush saying "Guess what? We are related!"

But you see, everyone writes love notes at the same time, and then you get your notes about 10 pm. So Crush, who was still happy and obliviously unaware that we were related, sent me a love note saying "Your hair is like a running river, cascading down the bank. Your eyes are like pigeon doves. Your toes are like alien fingers."

Too bad this guy couldn't work out. His love notes were bomb.