An Excerpt from the BMW Bible

Owner's Manual, page 27: Your BMW is equipped with a double-lock anti-lockout system. When the driver's door is open, its safety catch button can neither be pressed in nor the lock turned by the key. It is not possible to lock the vehicle using the lock button when the driver's door is open. This is a safeguard against locking yourself out of the car accidentally. Except of course at 6:45 A.M. on a Saturday morning when you pull up to the front gate at work, exit the vehicle to manually push open the broken gate, and return to your car (which is still running), only to find that the driver's door (with the handle that doesn't work from the outside) has closed, all other doors are locked, and your spare key is visible sitting in the cup holder. In which case, you are S.O.L. and must wait 45 minutes (with your locked car still running and sitting at the gate) for the locksmith to show up, pay fifty dollars for roughly 7 seconds of work, and be ridiculed by said locksmith for locking your spare key in the fancy BMW with the busted driver's door handle.

Happy One Hundredth Post!

This officially marks my 100th post. In celebration, I will be having a party at my house on Sunday night. I will be making my 2nd Annual Oscar Cake, and we'll be watching the Oscars also. But its still a party for my blog. Even though today I'm spending a great part of my workday making copies of the Official Oscar Ballot for Bone Junior's Official Oscar Party - its still a party for my blog. We'll also be having a ceremony in which I am presented with my "Best Lover" Oscar statuette. Really.

Lent Update: And the winner is......LOST! That's right folks, I'm giving up LOST for the next 40 days. I considered giving up peeing in the shower, but that's too easy - it had to be something that would really be a sacrifice....so LOST it is. Snicker snicker. I'll, uh, be sure to keep you posted on how truly difficult it is....yeah.

Other candidates included chocolate, Diet Pepsi, Huge Bald Guy With Biceps As Big As My Head, my bra, brushing my teeth, and movies - the thought of which made me cry. Lit'rally. When movies was suggested, I believe my exact response was a blank stare, followed by, "Are you out. Of. Your. Damn. Mind?"

In local news, the Daily Herald's 'Best of Utah County 2006 Reader's Choice Awards' results are in...and my company tied for first for best homebuilder. I'm sure it had nothing to do with the fact that my boss practically forced me to stuff the ballot box. And Squaw Peak remains heavyweight champion yet again as 'Best Makeout Spot.'

I wish I had something more exciting to post about for my #100, but other than cinnamon rolls, The Oscars, and deconstructing Huge Bald Guy's true identity (taking bets on trained assassin, Batman, or Jack Bauer) there's not much else going on in my world. Viva la Oscars!

Post Number Ninety Nine: In Which I Do Something Both Amazing & Incredible and Become Domestic and all Girly-like

I make no secret of the fact that I am the polar opposite of crafty, creative, and anything domestic. I'm comfortable admitting that the extent of my cooking is making tuna melts or bologna sandwiches.

But something came over me yesterday - maybe it was Lent - and I decided to make cinammon rolls from scratch, thanks to a super secret recipe from a party who shall remain anonymous. Suffice it to say that the offering of this recipe risks the life of this person - it came to me wax-sealed in an ancient envelope by a wizard who warned me to "Keep it secret...keep it safe...." and then I met this hobbit and a really hot elf, and we were being chased by these ring wraiths....oh wait. Wrong story.

I was feeling ambitious until I started to mix the dough, and subsequently started crying because my fingers were all stuck together and webbed and I stared to panic because I thought I was ruining everything, and clearly I'm not cut out for making homemade cinammon rolls from scratch.

But Yanaj came to the rescue, lovingly scraping the dough from my cemented fingers and helping me create something that was truly a masterpiece, and will probably never happen again. Part of the masterpiece was the two flour-handprints on my bosom, as pictured.

In the end, I gorged myself on the most divine cinammon rolls I have ever had, hands down. And I'm paying for it today, as I feel like my blood has been replaced by icing and I'm moving in super slow motion.And my tears were not in vain, as the tasty treats were enjoyed by many friends, neighbors, and co-workers, including one Huge Bald Guy With Biceps As Big As My Head, who gave me THREE, count them, THREE lingering hugs and nonstop smiling.
In other news, I'm taking votes on what to give up for Lent. Whoever has the best idea wins! Please suggest something like Sci-Fi, or British comedies, because I have no trouble giving those up. Sorry Yanaj.

Happy VD Day!

This picture is courtesy of my boss Dave, who was outlining the company benefits for me a few months ago. VD Day being code for "Employees get flowers for Valentine's Day."

So Happy VD Day! What a great day to be single and basking in the glow of a trip to Orlando. I spent two days at Universal Studios, mainly walking around with my jaw hanging open in amazement, and a day at Magic Kingdom running around like a six year old.

However, let's not forget the part where I get the world's worst case of butt pee (AKA diarrhea) on my first night there, and dragged my friend to the store to buy Kaopectate. Let's also not forget when the butt pee came back the second day, and I farted at Universal only to quickly realize that the fart didn't come alone and in peace as we had agreed. And how my friend called me Poop Butt for the remainder of the trip.

But I was willing to be called Poop Butt if it meant that I could experience DisneyWorld for the first time at their Princesses & Pirates Party, and eat Pirate Bone Fudge (really). The weather was perfect, my tan was bronzed to perfection, and I had an amazing time.

And now its back to the freezing Utah weather and opening my car from the passenger side because the driver side handle is busted.

I want to go back to Florida.

Viva La Florida

Well kiddies, date #3 with Huge Bald Guy With Biceps As Big As My Head is in the works for tonight...initiated by me, but I think it still counts. Right? Right? Please??

Nothing like a last-minute confidence booster before heading off to Florida for five glorius days of Disneyworld, Universal Studios, and dodging tornados. Also nothing like giving yourself heat stroke (or lamp stroke) by going tanning two days in a row to prepare for said trip. There's just nothing quite like feeling like your entire body is on fire, and having to call in sick as a result.

I Like Making People Uncomfortable

Last night I went out to dinner with my roommates. I did my usual obvious checking-out of the waiters (Me: "What! He's good looking!" Yanaj: "It's not your taste I'm objecting to; it's your tact...")

I asked our waiter for some more honey mustard dipping sauce, and when he brought it out, it was definitely not normal honey mustard. I didn't really use it, and when he came back he said, "Oh by the way, that other honey mustard I brought out is fat-free."

I paused, mid-bite with a mouth full of greasy chicken crispers, looked directly at him and said, "What are you trying to say?"

As he tried to stammer his way out of it, I felt kind of bad. He didn't really talk to us the rest of the night. So I left a $6 tip on a $14 check.

Sometimes I like being a jerk.

In other news, I discovered this week that I'm more famous than I realized. Apparently, my mug has been plastered on the Official Elvis Insiders website since August. There's a tremendously flattering shot of me and Johanna from the Official Elvis Week Dance Party 2006. And by "tremendously flattering", I mean "horrifically and utterly disgusting and not at all flattering by any stretch of the imagination."

I don't even remember there being an official photographer at the dance party, let alone allowing him to take my picture. He should've been taking candids of the woman who danced like Elaine from Seinfeld, or the old ladies covered in Elvis tattoos - not me looking like I'm handicapped.

It's so bad that I'm not going to tell you where it is, suffice it to say that I don't even want to think about how many people have seen that picture and thought, "Aw, isn't that sweet? Elvis Week hosted obese special eds!"

Maybe the waiter wasn't totally off-base...

Hooray for Office Max!

I received a tasty and wonderful treat in the mail yesterday. To be more specific, a box full of 250 tasty and wonderful treats: Something tells me I can put these babies to good use...

The word of the day is hipatitis (noun): Terminal coolness.
Example: Bone Junior has a raging case of hipatitis.