ABC's of Bone Junior

A - Attached or Single: Blissfully and happily single. Take that, G, and all the rest of you smug marrieds.

B - Best Friend: Lady.

C - Cake or Pie: Tasty Klair Pie.

D - Day of Choice: Saturday, because I still have all day Sunday before I have to go back to work.

E - Essential Item: Fat Dragon, because I can't sleep without him and he's magical. That's what my next post is going to be about. Also Joaquin el Divo the Tivo is pretty essential to me.

F - Favorite Color: Purple and Elvis, hence the decorating scheme of my bedroom.

G - Gummi Bears or Worms: Worms.

H - Hometown: Coatesville Pennsylvania. Can I get a what what?

I - Indulgence(s): Tasty Klair Pies, Nutter Butter wafers, Prison Break, and Elvis.

J - January or July: July is too hot, January is too cold; but January has Elvis' birthday, and July has me gloriously tan and sunbathing for hours at a time, so....July. I'm going to look like a handbag by the time I'm thirty.

K - Kids: My nephew is kids enough for me.

L - Life is Incomplete Without: My sister.

M - Marriage Date: Blink blink.

N - Number of Siblings: Two. I am the poster child for Middle Child Syndrome.

O - Oranges or Apples: Oranges

P- Phobias or Fears: spiders, heights, spiders, short & curlies, and spiders.

Q - Quote(s): Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free. Booyah!

R - Reason to Smile: I have a loyal fan base of dental student housewives in Philadelphia. Holla!

S - Season: Fall on the east coast because fall doesn't really exist in Utah.

T - Tag Seven: Bone Senior, Yanaj, Tinlizzie, Jen, Hey Mikki You So Fine, Nickel Hole, and Jammie.

U - Unknown Fact About Me: I can't whistle. Now you know, and knowing is half the battle.

V - Vegetarian or Oppressor of Animal: Show me the meat. That's what she said.

W - Worst Habit: I bit my nails until I got acrylics. Now I have fancy nail.

X - X-Rays or Ultrasounds: I had an ultrasound on my boob once. I took my shirt off and asked the tech if she needed a roadmap to find my boobs. Sigh. IBTC forever!

Y - Your Favorite Food: Tasty Klair Pies and seafood. But not together because that'd be gross.

Z - Zodiac: Aries. Translation: I am bossy, stubborn, outspoken, and always right. And hot.

How to Host the Perfect Third Annual Oscar Flop

I only call it the Third Annual Oscar Flop because it was my worst year EVER as far as the picks go. I was so pissed off that I did so poorly that I had to go for a drive afterwards to cool off. 14 out of 24 is disgusting to me. (Damn you, best actress category! I shake my fist at you!) 58% correct. I felt like burying my head in the sand from shame.

Aside from sucking the big fat one, the party was great. Please to enjoy a twelve-step photo instruction guide entitled "How To Make an Oscar Cake That is the Bomb Dot Com."

Step 1: Bake a red velvet cake and a funfetti cake.Step 2: Remember how frustrating it was last year to outline the Oscar shape in the cake using toothpicks, so draw and cut out a pattern instead.

Step 3: Use Golden Yellow food coloring to dye fluffy white frosting nearly the perfect shade of, ahem, kind of sort of gold. More yellow really.

Step 4: Lay the cakes end to end and tape Oscar, against his will, to the cakes.

He will protest; but be firm and take charge, and tell him to shut up and make you a sandwich.

Step 5: Brandish your knives with trepidation when you remember how frustrating it was last year to cut the cake in the right shape.

Step 6: Get fed up with Oscar's attitude and make the first slice.

Step Seven: Use excess cake to fill in Oscar's sinking midsection.

Step 8: Painstakingly frost Oscar, tiny dot by tiny dot.

Get tired of doing tiny dots and smear chocolate frosting on the base.

Step 9: Voila! Oscar is right at home with the ballots, shrimp dip, chips and salsa.

Step 10: Fill your fancy dollar-store goblets with Martinelli's in preparation for the annual pre-Oscar party kick-off toast.

Step 11: Set up the camera and take the annual pre-Oscar party kick-off toast picture.
Suggest that you and your friends line up in order of paleness. Prepare to get chased out with torches and pitchforks by your pale, pale friends after making that suggestion.
Rejoice and delight in the fact that you are not pale.

Step 12: After the party, when Oscar has been mutilated, yell at Yanaj's friend for rifling through the prize bags in an attempt to get the best prize. Then graciously accept your prize (a Superman egg-dyeing kit) for guessing the most correct.

And there you have it!

Third Annual Oscar Partay!

Leave your picket signs at home, the strike is over, and the Oscars are on!

When: Sunday February 24 starting at 6:00 pm

Location: Our house, in the middle of the street
1406 Alpine Way, Provo, UT 84606 US

Come and pit your movie knowledge against the best of them (seriously, I have been unchallenged for way too long) and fill out your predictions as the 2008 Oscars. Show us what the intellectual theater-types were watching while we were being disappointed by Spiderman 3. Oh emo-Spidey, with great emo-power comes great emo-responsibility.

Prizes will be given for whoever predicts the most right (and the fewest) and whoever has seen the most nominated films (and the fewest) and anyone who comes sporting a Daniel Day-Lewis mustache or a Javier Bardem haircut gets automatic bonus points. Just don't expect me to sit next to you if you have that haircut, because it creeps me out.

If the prizes aren't enough to convince you, then come for the unveiling of the third, yes THIRD, official Oscar cake.

Also, for those of you who are unable to carpool from 1,000+ miles away (ahem, the Other Sisters), you can still participate in the ballot contest by emailing me your predictions. As of today, NO ONE has emailed me any predictions.

Now, you may be saying "Why even try? Bone Junior is the movie master and there's no way I can ever compete against her." I understand. I do see a lot of movies, and it's hard to go into battle if you already know you're defeated. But if it makes you feel any better, even I don't feel very confident in my picks this year, and last year I only won by a few points.

The point is, you can't win if you don't even try. Or like my grandma used to say, why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?

Actually that saying doesn't even make sense there; I just like it.

The real point is that you should come to the Oscar party because there will be good food, fun people, and a cake that has the potential to turn out looking like a penis if I mess it up.

Viva Las Vegas

My seasonal affective disorder has been acting up due to the eighty-seven feet of snow we have here in Utah, so I jumped at the chance to road trip down to Vegas last weekend with Erin & Ryan. There's something wonderful about sunbathing in February.

I knew it was going to be a fun weekend when Ryan demonstrated his recording studio sing-along skillz in the first hour of the drive.
In case you can't tell, he's holding his earpiece and the mic as he rocks out.Also he holds the mic for Erin. What a sweet guy.Then I rock out in the back seat. Hot, I know.On Saturday, we drove to Primm - home of the famous Plastic Penis of Primm, right Andi?? Ew gross. I rode the roller coaster and peed a little, then spent way too much money shopping at the outlets there. Erin and I walked too fast for our male counterparts who got easily distracted in the casino, and we rode the shuttle back and forth while we waited for them to catch up. What shocks me about this picture is that I look as pale as Erin. Cory, Ryan & Heather weren't too happy that we jumped the shuttle without them.I also demonstrated the proper lip contortion for drinking through a straw when you don't want to get lip gloss shmang on the straw. Hot, I know.We visited a tasty little haven called The Cupcakery, where I spent more money than I've ever spent in my life on pastries.This is why no one likes me when I take pictures.This was the highlight of our time on the strip, I don't care how much Grandma Joy complained about it. He was an awesome Elvis, even if he was a little sweaty. Ok, a lot sweaty. This is what happens when you ask a girl to take your picture.This is what happens when you try to take the picture yourself:

cockeyed sunglasses and a big green thing in Erin's teeth that you didn't know was there.

And this is what happens when you ask Ryan to take your picture.

This is how Erin reacts to Ryan's crotch shots,
and this is how I yell at Ryan to take the damn picture right.This is Ryan's idea of "taking the picture right."

And this is me crotch-checking Ryan because I'm sick of him taking pictures of our crotches.

But definitely one of the highlights of my weekend was on Sunday when Yanaj called me to share exciting news: one of my secrets had been published on the web. About a year ago, I made a postcard that publicized one of my deep, dark, dorky secrets and I mailed it into Postsecret. Every week I check the site and this week, Yanaj saw that my postcard had finally been posted on the website! And now I'm blowing my secret wide open by blogging about it and fully embracing my dorky side.

Check it out: http://www.postsecret.blogspot.com/ - it's the very first postcard. And enjoy the retarded tingles you will feel for me when you picture me practicing my Oscar acceptance speech in front of the mirror.

It's good to be me sometimes.

My New Favorite Thing

I know you've all been dying to hear how Step Up 2 the Streets was. Well I'll tell you: if it's any indication of how awesome it was, every single show at the theater was sold out by Thursday afternoon. Lucky I bought my ticket on Monday.

And now I love this guy and his freak nasty dance moves: It might be because he reminds me slightly of my highschool boyfriend:

Maybe its just the hair. Or the large forearms.

My Favorite VD

VD meaning Valentine's Day, of course, and tomorrow is shaping up to be one of my favorite's ever. Why? Because I've got a big date planned with pretty much every other single gal I know, and I've already bought my ticket for Step Up 2 the Streets.

Also, I'm buying myself roses. In years past, my company has bought roses for every employee but they decided to do away with that this year. Hmph. But we can still order the roses, pay for them, and pick them up from work. So I'm buying one dozen purple roses for myself. That's right, I don't even care. I want flowers and I don't need to have a boyfriend to get them. So there.

By the way, if you'd like to send me flowers at work, my favorite color is purple and the address is 727 N. 1550 E. Suite 400, Orem UT 84097. I'm just throwing it out there.

Looks Like Somebody's Got a Case of the Monday's

Today I got my hair caught in the paper shredder at work.



Yeah, it was just one of those days.

My Friend is the Best

Coming back to work after three consecutive days in bed is never easy, but my BFF Lady made it that much easier for me. A package was delivered to me at work this morning that almost totally made up for the past 72 hours I spent watching "Rock of Love 2".

I knew it was going to be a good package when I saw Elvis on the shipping label.

Check it out - McBicep in a handy, disposable package. I think I'll grow him in the toilet bowl.

One of the major loves of my life - the Mustang.

ALL of the major loves of my life - clockwise from top left, Elvis, Rocky, the Eagles, Batman, and Rambo - handmade in a bracelet by Lady! It nearly brought tears to my eyes.

I couldn't ask for a friend who knows me more truly and loves me more dearly.

Sometimes Not Even Rocky Has the Answer

Did you ever have one of those days where you're sick and coughing constantly and everything is going wrong so you take Nyquil and climb into bed at 7:00 pm and there's a bag next to your bed full of dirty tissues and spit and the humidifier is running constantly but you still can't stop coughing so you call off work two days in a row and you try to distract yourself by watching Rocky but your brain just won't stop talking to you and telling you how you should be different in every possible way?



Or is it just me?

Although, I WAS able to sleep with YOU...

The title of my post is to prove the point that anything taken out of context can be completely, and hilariously, misconstrued. Case in point: I was chatting online with G this morning and the subject came up about how she has trouble sleeping when she shares a bed with someone. Hence the title of this post.

In other news, I got me some sexy new darker hair this weekend. This is what my hair is supposed to look like every day. Unfortunately, this is what my hair looks like only when Lez does it for me:But more importantly and aside from darker hair, I've been doing a few things lately to improve my feminine virtues. This is your warning: if you're uncomfortable with TMI (which, if you are, I have no idea why you're reading my blog in the first place - nothing is sacred here), then this is a good time to click away.

It all started around my 25th birthday, when I decided that I wanted to try something that I've never tried before: the Brazilian wax.

Let me back up by saying that for me, short & curlies - especially out of their natural habitat - are the most disgusting thing in the world. I once had a boyfriend pull out a clump of his own, place them in front of the passenger side heating vent before I got in the car, and then turn the air on full blast when I sat down. I was covered in them, and he had to pull over because I was dry heaving and gagging so badly. It's a wonder our relationship didn't last.

That being said, you'll understand my interest in going Brazilian. Lez recommended I go see Natasha (how's that for a stereotype), the waxer at her salon. I scheduled the appointment and then proceeded to suffer through the most uncomfortable and itchy ten days leading up to the appointment.

When the moment arrived, I laid down, closed my eyes, and sucked in my breath with each anticipated strip being torn from my body. I knew it was going to be painful, but honestly it was manageable. When it was all over, I sat up and breathed a sigh of relief. I had survived! I had conquered! I was relishing the moment when Natasha said the words that I will never forget:

Natasha: Ok, now turn over onto your belly so we can do your bum crack.

Blink. Blink.

Bone Junior: My whoody whaty?

Natasha: Your bum crack.

Blink. Blink.

Bone Junior: laughing nervously. Oh, um, well, I didn't know that was part of it...so, um, ok. I apologize in advance for what you're about to see.

So there I was, laying on my stomach with my face buried in the towel so she couldn't see me burning humiliation, and trying not to imagine what the view was like from her standpoint.

I didn't think it could get any worse until she instructed me to reach back with my hands and spread my butt cheeks apart, so as not to seal them together with the hot wax that she was spreading there.

I'm serious.

I tipped her very well because I felt so bad about the view she must've had. I didn't go back for another wax until after the new year, and since then, I'm hooked. It gets easier every time, although I never quite get over the embarrassment of rolling over and giving Natasha the old brown eye.

And I continue to tip her well.