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i got into a car wreck tonight, sadly, neither boyfriend came to my rescue.
it’s my fault, not only for smashing into the back of a jeep, but for bringing the wreck on. a couple weeks ago i was whining about my rising car insurance costs, and stupidly said it sucks that i pay all this money and never actually use it.

the powers that be heard me.

i learned the importance of seatbelts and traveling with a real coat. oh, and NEVER exchange your information before the police arrive (even if they do take an hour to get there), it instantly turns to a civil matter. just so you know.

that’s life. you win some, you lose some, and then you wreck some.

a few green beers later, and one green tongue hotter, i’m almost ready to forgive sue for stealing all my boyfriends. in the interest of safety, we took ben. it’s nice having a built in designated driver at all times. everyone should have a mormon brother. they’re fantastic. they can pray for you and drive your drunk ass home.

saraimee was in full force. we’re preparing for the summer games. drinks, claritin, and pretty shoes. i only hope carmen and co. are ready.

advice to all married women who have husbands in bars: insist they either wear a ring, or wear you.

Ingredients:

Instructions:
Mix all ingredients into shaker with ice. Shake firmly. Strain into Martini glass.

green beer is over-rated, granted it’s tasty, but green-tini’s are for the fabulous! who needs fake irish pubs when you can have the electric six concert with your gal-pals?

Police in Utah warn parents about a possible case of food tampering after a child ingests a painkiller that may have been hidden in a popular candy. Salt Lake county deputies say a home daycare worker in Herriman bought the Willy Wonka “Nerd” candies from a Smith’s in Herriman. After she’d put them in a bowl and the kids had eaten them, she says she noticed a strange pill mixed in with the candy. She took four kids to the hospital. A 2 year old child tested positive for opiates. The drug was an extended-release pain reliever. Smith’s stores removed the Nerds from the Herriman’s store shelves.
after seeing this story on the news last night, i begged ben to drive out there to shop with me. he refused, his reasoning was that we could make a run to pioneer park with just as much success. i call bullshit, he is just lazy. in the end, we decided to skip it, because i’m sure the polygamists out there need the high more than we do.

i still am regretting cutting candy out of my diet, think of all the fun i could have had!

willy wonka is so lucky….

top five reasons why i want to be a lesbian when i grow up:

1-men, specifically justin.
2-portia de rossi.
3-discontinued condom use.
4-lesbian porn.
5-the l word series.

while we’re on the subject of jb, let me tell you about my hour and a half in the life of jb.

pmk and i went for a massage today, not together. gross. just at the same chiropractic clinic. all the cool kids at my office go there. it’s fantastic, not to mention the most action i’ve been getting in quite some time. an hour massage for $10, you can’t beat it. just be sure to hit the potty first, right alex? pmk and jb always go at the same time, adorable isn’t it? jb had another commitment, so i took his place. i called in to let them know, for billing purposes. i requested that they call me jb. it seemed like the only fair thing to do. after all, i wouldn’t want to break up the couple time.

people love jb. it’s true. everywhere we go we spot someone he knows. it’s brilliantly entertaining. case in point, the liquor store. we dragged him along one day to purchase wine for a party. jb is lds, not just lds, but active lds, not just active lds, but second counselor lds. it just so happens we ran into someone from his ward there. therefore proving that jb is famous, and that we are his entourage.

being jb was lovely. i got special treatment. no, not a happy ending….damn it. for all you utah locals, it’s well worth your time to hit this place. i swear they take all insurance and somehow make it possible to get weekly massages. go, tune out the enya, and relax.

just tell ’em jb sent you.

let me quickly preface this next post–i’m going to start having a guest blog segment, mainly because my pals have fantastic blog ideas but no time to maintain a blog (read:lazy). the first of many comes from jb, superstar. jb is a member of the infamous geek squad. i enjoy every moment spent with him, as will you. i promise.

The power of persuasion leads many people to believe that SUVs are cool, and that minivans are boring and tired and that what they really need to shuttle from school to the grocery store is an SUV. It doesn’t matter whether it’s an H-2 or one of the 90-or-so SUVs based on their respective sister passenger car uni-body frames, all that matters is that they’re driving an SUV. Let’s just call them SMCs for now (Suburban Mom Cars). Carmakers have long understood the fact that marketing is the key to selling cars, and therefore, they have developed a format that sells in exchange for compromise in function. What consumers don’t fully understand is that they really want a minivan but are too vain or “hip” to know it. My crusade is to “educate” the sheep of the SUV trend that minivans are great.

OK, let’s enumerate the advantages of the minivan: better gas mileage, more room, lower insurance costs, easier access, larger payload capacity, more comfortable interior, better road ride, lots of cup holders, the list goes on. And speaking of road ride, how many SUVs actually ever leave the pavement? Most SUV owners quickly point to the time two years ago when they drove on that dirt road leading to . . . yada yada yada . . . and that they might need that functionality again some time.

Last week Sarah admitted a HUGE concession: she found herself admiring a panel truck (or work van) thinking that it was pretty cool. I know that it’s not necessarily a minivan, but we first take baby steps, then we learn to run. By opening her eyes, Sarah has opened herself up to a brand new world of freedom. If she can accept minivans for their superiority to SUVs, then she begins to shake that marketing hold that bounds her to so many limitations in life. Free thinkers of the world, Unite! Don’t just follow the flock! Drive a minivan and be free!

i’d like to take a quick moment to apologize to anyone who faced a crummy snow-packed commute this morning. you see, i am convinced the weather is directly related to my karma. my BAD karma.

when i am walking up to my apartment and see crazy chick, i can’t help but have negative thoughts towards her, and by negative thoughts i mean horrific torture:

-starving daisy for a week, dipping her in gravy, tying her down, and letting daisy have at her.
-forcing her to wear clothes that actually look good on her (gasp).
-tying her down in the street and letting those pesky long-boarders run her over, again, and again…
-giving ben countless sugared energy drinks and letting him drive her around downtown.
-forcing her to listen to selections from justin’s ipod, which may or may not contain bad abba covers.
-and lastly letting yours truly drink tequila before speaking to her…

scott and i use the nurse betty scale when judging a movie, better or worse than nurse betty. it started out as the truth about cats and dogs, but we adjusted as time passed. both movies are completely mediocre, we neither loved them nor hated them. when scott’s gravy train chose to move them to ohio (or whatever bullshit state he lives in), i was forced to discuss movies with new people. most of these people haven’t seen nurse betty, so the rating process doesn’t fly. which brings me to the question behind this post. i need run of the mill movie suggestions to create a new scale, either that or a fund to bring scott back. wanna help?

last night was laundry night. i gained courage and went to the creepy basement where the washer and dryer live. someone else was drying their clothes, no biggie, by the time i was done washing they would more than likely be done. my crap luck, it just had to be the loony girl, aka crazy chick. on top of the dryer was a big note asking that no one take her laundry.

to her i say:

1. there are only 6 people living in the house, granted 3 of which HATE you, but it’s not like you’re at a seedy laundromat where people steal your clothes.

2. your clothes are ugly, no one wants them. trust me.

if i’m wrong, then next time you see ben or carl clad in your hippie skirts, just kindly ask them to return to owner. i’m sure they would happily oblige.