Wednesday, June 23, 2010

My Toy Story

Having recently watched Toy Story 3 (which ROCKS by the way), it's made me home sick for my toys. I come from a family that never throws things away so I still have most of the stuff I played with as a kid. It is all boxed up in my parent's basement, or the more sentimental things are tucked away in my cedar chest.

The dolly I miss the most and want to hug- and will next time I visit home- is Beanzy. She was my first dolly. She was a gift from Santa for my first Christmas. Beanzy was my "Woody." She went everywhere with me. I mean Everywhere. I remember one time hiking the rocks at Ross Park and dropping Beanzy. She never did get clean after that. Then there was the time I gave her a peanut butter facial. I don't know where I got that idea from. No one in my family ever did facials as far as I know. I must have gotten it off TV. I even made her matching pajamas one year. My mom would make our Christmas jammies and once I took the left over fabric and I made some for Beanzy. I think that's what she's wearing whilst tucked away.

I also played Barbies a LOT (I may or may not have still played with them into my mid teens... you'll never know- and neither Wendy nor I will ever tell). My sisters and I would take all the boards out of the games and set them up on end. They would be the walls of a fabulous house. We had milk crates and boxes stacked on each other. Seriously, who needed a Barbie Dream House when you had imagination? Our basement was unfinished so we would string a rope over one one of the rafters and put it through a box to make an elevator. Our Barbies lived well. I think we had a gold corvette and a red jeep. We used my dad's massaging foot bath as a hot tub, and the little attachment that goes in the dishwasher (to put small things in) as a laundry machine. Our Barbies always looked fabulous. We'd spend almost as much time doing hair and changing clothes as we did actually playing. And it was always a soap opera.

Along with Beanzy when I was really small, I had a teddy bear with a wind up music box. His name was Beary. I loved him. I don't know what ever happened to him. Sad really.

Beanzy, from the box was called "Baby Beans" which became Beanzy. My bear was Beary. We were not totally hip on naming our toys. Certain Barbies had certain names.  You can't have ten different characters all with the same name.  Often, if they already came named, they kept their names. Like Valeri's Barbie-esque dolls, Shawn and Star (gymnastic dolls with flexible joints, unlike Barbie and Ken). But mostly, the description of the toy is where its name came from. My Grandma made me a crocheted doll. She was pink. Her name? Pinky. She made my sister one just like it, but blue. Her name? You guessed it. Bluey (which is funny, cuz i have actually recently met someone named Bluey... who knew it was a real name?).

I had such a happy childhood. What I wouldn't give to go back and do it more... but this time really appreciate it. And I would treat my toys much better. My apologies go out to Malibu Barbie for the whole "barbershop incident."

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Secret Weapon

Often when I play volleyball we'll get someone on our team who doesn't know how to play. You know, the type that move away when the ball comes towards them instead of even trying to hit it (if you don't want to play- GET OFF THE COURT!). 

These are usually the cutesy little girls who do ballet in place instead of paying attention to the game, or they spend half the game texting.  Why- WHY is it that when they finally do something right (ie- get a serve over while they are standing half court instead of behind the serving line, or accidentally hit the ball while doing a dance move and it goes over the net) that all the guys- and some of the girls- cheer them and taunt the other team by saying, "Oooooh... we've unleashed our secret weapon!"

Just. Plain. Irritating.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Wreck Review

My mom got in a fender bender yesterday so I had to call and tease her about it.  We got talking about all my scrapes.  "You didn't start out too well, did you?" She said.  T'is but too true. I had it rough for a while.

Wreck #1- my fault

It was three weeks after I got my licence and I was already grounded from driving. My sister, Melanie, wanted to go to lunch and she didn't know I was grounded from the car- and I wasn't about to tell her- so she let me drive.  We went to a place that has outdoor order stations (kind of like Sonic, but it wasn't Sonic, I'd never heard of Sonic at that point).  I pulled in, but I was too close to the post on the passenger side.  Being a novice driver, I didn't quite know what to do.  Between my sister trying to talk me through maneuvering the car, and the employee at the restaurant giving me opposite instructions, I kept inching closer and closer to the pole until -BINK- it pushed in the side and left a gaping dent.  D'oh!  Lunch did not taste good. I knew I had to go home and tell my parents I'd dented the car when I was already grounded from it. Dad laughed at me and handed me a sharpie and told me to go sign the dent.

Wreck #2- my fault

It was not long after wreck 1.  Remember back when we all had huge mugs and we would go to the gas station at least once a day to fill them up with soda? (pop... whatever) Well, I was on the family pop run.  I was in the old Chevy Celebrity (the same as the above station wagon) and had about six giant refillable soda bottles.  As I as leaving Common Cents, one of the bottles started to tip and spill.  So my attention went to the spilling drink.  I was coasting ever so slowly through the parking lot.  This beast of a car had terrible alignment and drifted to the left heading toward a parked van.  I looked up and saw the van looming ever nearer... and went to slam on the breaks and instead slammed on the gas.  POW right into the side of the van.  Broken axle = totalled van.  The Chevy only sustained a dented fender (beastly, I tell you).  I sat on the curb and cried and cried.  The old man who owned the van came out of the convenience store to console me.  "It's my fault," he said.  "God is punishing me."  Curious, I looked at him as he continued.  "I bought a lottery ticket and won two dollars so I was going in to cash it in.  God is punishing me for playing the lottery."  So my fault? Technically, yes... but hey, if he'll take the blame, fine.  My parent's were not happy about that one.

Wreck #3- not my fault

I was working at Fred Meyer and had had the most hellish day. I just wanted to go home.  I was in my very own car (my teal Tempo, Grinch) and headed out of the Fred Meyer parking lot onto Yellowstone.  The truck in front of me started to pull out into traffic so I inched up waiting my turn.  He decided he didn't want to go out onto the road so he backed up... right over the top of my Grinch.  It was the perfect end to the perfect day *glare eyes* but in the end he had to pay for it and I got my very first rental car.

Wreck #4- my fault

I was driving down Chubbuck road and stopped at a red light at Yellowstone. I noticed my friend, Tracy, was in the car next to me so I rolled down my window and she rolled down hers and we were talking.  Her left turn light changed to green so she started to drive away.  Not even paying attention to my light, I assumed it had also turned green so I hit the gas... and the truck in front of me.  For some reason I was back in the Chevy (these might be out of order...) But, I didn't hit it hard enough to do damage to him, and there was only a small chunk of rubber missing from the Beast's fender.  I didn't tell the parents about that one (Hi, Mom).

Wreck #5- the weather's fault, but I got the blame.

I was driving to work one day and had the distinct feeling to stay on Yellowstone instead of taking the shorter route via Hiline.  Stupid Heather... as I turned onto Hiline, a car parked on the side of the road pulled out in front of me. I hit some ice and couldn't stop.  I plowed right into the back of him.  Minimal damage, but lots of anger... on both sides.  I got a ticket and life went on.

Wreck #6- my fault

I was going to my friend's new apartment to check it out, and as we left, I backed into her her dumpster, scraping half the paint off the passenger back side of the Grinch.  My friends had a good laugh and I still haven't quite lived that down.  Luckily I had touch up paint left over from when the truck backed over me (they gave me a little bottle, kinda like nail polish) so I was able to cover it up and few ever noticed it.

Wreck #7- totally not my fault

I was in Idaho Falls with Melanie (huh... she seems to be around for a lot of these). She was having surgery on her eyes so she needed someone to drive her home (we were in her car, Yensid).   I was driving -ironically- on Yellowstone.  It had just started to snow when a car pulled out in front of me.  There was no time to say a word that had more than four letters before I plowed into the side of him.  His toothless wife got out and started to yell at me, but it was clearly his fault for not yielding to oncoming traffic.  He got the ticket, but I don't think he had insurance so poor Yensid still sports the effects of that day.

Wreck #8- sigh... my fault

I had just moved to Provo and was turning on to University Ave (the Yellowstone of Provo).  I had never seen a "yield on green" light before.  Where I come from, if it's green, you can go.  But apparently on a left hand turn, you only have the right of way if you have an arrow. I didn't know that, so when my light turned green, I went.  The car coming the opposite direction sped up (I think on purpose to hit me... honestly) as I turned left.  She bludgeoned me on my passenger side and of course, because she had the right of way- even though she totally could have avoided the wreck, that...- I got the ticket and another rental car.  Hooray for full coverage insurance!  Not hooray for insurance premiums going up.

Wreck #9- weather's fault

It was my first winter in Colorado- and though I thought I was a pro at driving in snow, one day Mr Winter got the better of me. My friend, Carol, had called and asked if I could give her a ride.  She was having snow tires put on her new car and didn't want to wait at the shop for four hours before they could get around to her car.  I thought, "I never do nice things for people. I am going to do a good deed for once."  As I turned the corner out of my neighborhood,  I hit a slick spot and Kermit went down the hill and to the right.  I saw the curb coming and knew I should turn the wheel to hit the curb perpendicular, but there was not any time to react.  Kermit hit the curb going parallel which caused the whole wheel to break off, not just the tire, kids. The Whole. Damn. Wheel. I sat in my car and cried because I didn't know what to do or who to call.  I called my friend, Ryan in Colorado Springs just to cry to him as I waited for a tow truck to come.  He laughed at me.  I have liability only on Kermit so I knew this was not going to be cheap.  My consolation: later that night, Ryan did the exact same thing to his car.  Watch out, Karma'll bite you in the butt... or the front passenger wheel.  This wreck (and Elphaba) is also the reason why my creed is "No Good Deed Goes Unpunished" and I make a point of not being nice.

I think that's all of my wrecks... luckily no one was ever hurt in any of them... just my pride.

Monday, June 7, 2010

On My Mind

I had a really clever idea for an awesome blog a few days ago... but I forgot it.

So instead, you get to hear what's on my mind.

I love my new water bottle. I bought it today and filled it whilst still at the store with lovely ice water. I am just staring at it now as the humidity in the air collects on the side of the bottle and slides down to form a little water ring on the black metal table I'm sitting at.  I love water.

Why does everyone think all fat people look alike?  I have people constantly telling me I look like... so and so... then I see a picture of said person- and we look absolutely nothing alike- other than the fact that we're both fat. Lame. My summer in England there was a Graduate student working on some research who got me confused with a girl who had dark hair, which was straight and greasy as if it was never washed. Her skin was not at all clear and she had no social skills.  She was also about 5'5.  Yeah... I can see the resemblance *rolls eyes*  

Am I getting persnickety in my old age, or is textese getting more and more annoying? I mean, I dont mind textese in a text, but when I get on facebook and someone writes their status or comments in textese... it's just maddening. I was just reading on IMDB and this is how one person wrote their response to the movie The Young Victoria:

some critics were complaining about dullness and nothing happening in dis movie but cant recall any period filmz dat had something exciting happening for a while. wuz really entertained thruout and kept me in suspense whether they succeeded 2 replace da queen (guess i dunno my history).
also agree wid da proposal scene. it wuz quite touching and not corny 4 a change. very hard 2 accomplish. i never saw a more genuine luv scene since sound of music and captain vontrapp catches maria in da garden.
How irritating is that to read? ARGH! (By the way, the movie is good, but like A&E's Victoria & Albert better).

Speaking of movies, I went and saw Letters to Juliet.  So incredibly cheesy, predictable and... soo good. I admit it. I am a sucker for a good chick flick and it's been a while since I've seen a good one.  Movies these days just aren't as good as they used to be.  Trust me, I have been watching a lot of movies lately.
Also on the movie topic, Shrek Forever After is super duper cute. It's rare that a sequel is as good as the original, but I think all the Shrek movies have done really well.  Especially since there are so many of them.  Usually sequel number four to any series isn't that great, but they did a good job. 
I don't know if it's a Baker thing, or a sickness, but it seems that everywhere I go, I look for "Hidden Mickeys." You know what that is right? In Disney parks and such they will randomly hide Mickey head shapes just for fun, and people like me have a great time looking for them- whether intentional or not (like the rocks paving the streets... probably not intentional, but we look anyway). Even in real life I find myself looking for hidden Mickeys.  Like the one I found today- the prongs that plug from my computer wire into the converter box... three circles that suspiciously look like my favorite mouse's silhouette.  I'm leaning toward sickness.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Time Bomb

I finally had to make a decision. I'm out of money so if I can't find a job in June, It's back to the parent's basement for me.  I can see myself now, sitting in the dark and sinking into a black despair because of feeling like an utter failure.  I don't care what you say.  I say F*A*I*L*U*R*E.  I'm a 32 year old college graduate and should be able to support myself for heaven's sake.

My mom is only too happy to have me move home and live with her. I don't think she understands the depth of depression that I will get in. I have always been active in church, but I won't want to go if I move back into my home ward.  All the well meaning looks and sideways glances of pity because of the pathetic adult daughter that that Baker's have to harbor because she's still single and now completely unemployable.

So pray for a job.  Anything. I mean, I would like a *real* job as opposed to one that any old high school drop out qualifies for... but we've already established that my degree is completely worthless and all it did was accrue me tens of thousands of dollars in debt.  I've even sunk so low as to apply at .... well let's just say I cried as I turned in the application.  But even *they* haven't called me back.  This feels great.