Itsy bitsy spider with a Very Important Lesson to Teach Us

Yesterday, for the first time in my life, I saved a spider.

For this story to be wondrous, let me say that I don't like spiders. At all. I'm not as bad as my sister Spitfire, who possibly has an actual phobia and runs away screaming if she sees one at the other end of the room, or my sister Savvymom, who yells for her husband to kill the spider lest it find a way into Savvy's crib where it will devour her slowly. But I'm still really bad.

For the past few days I've noticed a tiny spider in my shower--really tiny. If it were bigger, I would not be telling this story. Instead, I would be telling the story of the Huge Fatty Spider that I Bludgeoned to Death with a Costco-sized Bottle of Conditioner. That first day, I figured the spray from the shower would quickly send the thing down the drain, as it has other spiders before him. But when I rinsed off my shampoo I looked around to see if it was gone, and I saw that the little guy had gone behind the shower curtain, just out of reach of the water. I was impressed.

"Hmmm. Well played, Spider."

Then it seemed like bad form just to squash him between the curtain and the tub, since his idea was a good one, and it wasn't like he could get to me. Plus I was in a hurry.

"Alright, then. We'll see how you do tomorrow."

Next day he managed to stay out of harm's way (and my way) again. And I was in a hurry, again, so I didn't kill him.

This morning he was there, but he was almost in the middle of the tub floor, so I figured his day had come. He couldn't get away from the raging river of death this time. After the shower, while drying my hair, I checked the tub to see if by any possible means he had survived. I found him in a water droplet, his little drowned spider body all curled up. And I felt kind of sad at the demise of a brave and resourceful adversary. So I made him a promise, there in my bathroom.

"Okay, Spider. You look pretty dead to me, but if I come back from church and you are alive, I will not kill you. I will take you outside, because you will have earned it."

5 hours later, I checked the tub again. He was perched near the drain, looking healthy and very happy with himself. And a promise is a promise. It took some maneuvering to pick him up with the toilet paper, since he didn't actually want to go with me, and I didn't want him to get out of the paper and scurry across my hand. But we made it, and I threw the wad of toilet paper out into the tomato garden, and watched him scuttle away to freedom.

If this were a fairy tale, one day this spider would save my life in some wonderful way. I'm not holding out for that, but my thoughts are with the little guy.

Note to all other spiders out there: Don't let this make you think I've gone soft. I'll still be killing the rest of you.

Read More

I went camping. I am One Who Camps.

Honestly, I don't know why everyone acts so shocked when I tell them I went camping last night. I'm not averse to camping. I just don't want to do it if it will cause me to be lost, cold, or eaten by wild animals.

Last night's camping adventure had none of those things, which makes it a success in my book. Also AA lent me this great REI sleeping bag. Turns out the expensive ones are better than the cheap purple thing I've been using since I was 9.

We almost didn't find a campsite because everyone else in Utah decided to head up to American Fork Canyon and do some camping too. Everything was full. In the end we snuck into someplace called Mutual Dell, which was against my principles because I like to follow The Rules. Only when the caretaker noticed us he said it was okay because it was after 8pm and the people scheduled hadn't shown up to claim their spot. We love the caretaker and his 4-Wheeler of Mercy.

Honestly I'd forgotten that I do like camping. I like campfires, I like camping food, I like babbling brooks next to one's campsite, and I really like the big tent that the girl in charge brought. It had this window-screen-style material on top, so when we turned the flashlights out we could see the stars and the trees up above us. This made me ponder the heavens and the universe for exactly 2 minutes and 17 seconds, at which point I passed out.

After I woke up I lounged in the sleeping bag for awhile, on account of it was so luxurious (the sleeping bag itself, not the actual hard bumpy ground upon which it lay) and then got up. And there was no fire! This somehow seemed strange and unfriendly to me, even though there was no real reason to build one. We were just going to eat a cold breakfast and then pack up, and it's not like it was 40 degrees outside. I still almost started one though, before deciding that I shouldn't be silly and we didn't need it.

I think I wanted one because when my family used to go camping together, Dad always got up first and built the fire. It was just what he did. "I'm the father and there will be a fire and hot water when my children wake up. The wilderness won't get us today. That's right. I can provide."

Also of note: Symphony bars make for great s'mores. And philly cheesesteak sandwiches from The Italian Place make great tinfoil dinners. Remember that.

Read More

Wow! I'm a GENIUS!

Check out my first edited picture!

Cheers! :)

Read More

My Metal CD collection.

Well, here's my puny Metal CD collection. I'm buying Cruelty And The Beast and Love Metal soon enough. :)

Read More

Decks galore and some fans.

I was playing with my webcam out of utter boredom and took some pictures of my deck collection and some flourishes here and there. So here's it. :) The fugly green deck armspread is badly done, anyhow, it's sort o f my own creation, it's called Whirlpool II. :)

BOREDOM!

Oh yes, my class has successfully driven Mr Mok out of the class. Here's the story behind all these crazed frenzy. Mr Mok asked the class if we needed a break or not. We all said in unison, 'Yes!" Then, Mr Mok said, "If you want to rest, go out and rest.', in a semi-joking tone. Then, Nicholas Tan and Luthur rebuked him, 'This is our class. It's you who should get out. Not us.', also in a semi-joking tone. Me, stunned by the rude reply, just looked on to Mr Mok. He then proceeded to pack his stuff and walked out of the class, mumbling something like this, 'Since I'm not welcome. I'll leave then. Fine!'

Mega drama!

Read More

Reading lists, yay!

Yes, I know, I'm a complete dork. But my school sent me an email with all this fun induction information, including a recommended "Background Reading List."

• Any of the following items will provide useful background reading. We recommend that you read two or three of them before joining the programme.
  
  Black, Alistair, 2000. The public library in Britain, 1914-2000. London: British Library. ISBN 0712346856
  
  Borgman, Christine, 2000. From Gutenberg to the global information infrastructure: access to information in the networked world. MIT Press. ISBN 026202473X
  
  Charlton, Janet & Rosalind Johnson, 2001. National information policy. London : Library Information Technology Centre. Library & information briefings; 103.
  
  Dimbleby, Richard & Graeme Burton, 1998. More than words : an introduction to communication. 3rd ed. London: Routledge. ISBN 0415170060
  
  Feather, J., 2004. The information society : a study of continuity and change. London: Facet. ISBN 1856044971
  
  Feather, J. & Paul Sturges, 2002. International encyclopedia of information and library science. New York ; London: Taylor & Francis. ISBN 0415259010
  
  Hauptman, Robert, 2002. Ethics and librarianship. Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland. ISBN 0786413069
  
  Orna, Elizabeth , 2004. Information strategy in practice. Aldershot: Gower. ISBN 0566085798.
  
  Raish, M.H., ed., 2003. Musings, meanderings, and monsters too: essays on academic librarianship. Scarecrow Press. ISBN 0810847671.

Tee-hee, "programme." I realize some of these titles look dead boring, and I don't know how many I'll be able to find around here. Let's hope I don't run across the International encyclopedia of information and library science, because that thing scares me.

Number 4 makes me think of the hideous song that people play incessantly on the guitar in college living rooms. All I have to hear is that opening "Strum, smack, strum-smack, struuuum . . . " and it sends me straight to the kitchen to jam a fork into my ear. Same thing for "Dust in the Wind." My agony is made complete when people start singing along, in groups, with their eyes closed.

Read More

Just a few pictures.

Here's a few pictures from a few movies that I really enjoyed watching.

Enjoy :)

Read More

Countcher many blessings

So I realize that for the past few days my tone may have been somewhat . . . acerbic. I'm sure if you've read what I wrote, however, then you know that it wasn't my fault and was simply a case of freakish people driving me past the point of reason or sanity.

Also there's this very tedious work project (with a deadline) that is causing my eyeballs to bleed. To top it off, people keep walking up to me and asking me to take on all these other projects as well. This makes me want to bellow in the manner of a moose that has been set on fire. Granted, I have never actually seen a moose on fire, but I'm sure the noise would be horrific.

However, I wouldn't want anyone here to think that I'm some kind of permagrouch, because I'm actually a pretty grateful person. And I will prove it by creating a list of things I'm thankful for, much in the manner of Pilgrims or frost-bitten pioneers.

1. My niece. How could you not love someone who lets out a drunken banshee shriek when she sees you and then runs straight to you with her arms up in the air? Granted, I wouldn't want a date to begin this way, but you get what I mean.

2. My job. Even though there are current aspects of my job that I hate, I was very lucky to get hired on within this department. I've been here since 1998 when I was a lowly student, and they've been very good to me. Plus in the last two years of crazy globe-trotting thankless no-overtime work I earned enough to make the whole grad school thing a viable option. Also I've earned enough Skymiles to become a Silver Medallion Member and so I've flown 1st class a couple of times. Mmm . . . first class . . .

3. My apartment. The living room has dark red walls. It was love at first sight. And it's this beautiful townhouse, which is light years away from the first 45-yr-old pile of trash I moved into as a sophomore. I have my own room and bathroom, and since I'm in the basement it's about 10 degrees cooler down there.

4. The United Kingdom. I'm grateful to the place in general for things like British accents and Colin Firth, but I'm even more excited that I actually will get to live and study there for a whole year. This is something that I've dreamed about for years and years but never thought I would get to do. And the fact that Heavenly Father helped make everything fall into place so easily makes me feel like I don't deserve to complain about anything ever again. I probably will, though. Let's be honest.

5. My family. They really are a good bunch, even if they do insist on living in stupid Alaska. My parents have always encouraged me, and my mother has never introduced me as "her single daughter," which, sadly, not all of my friends can say.

6. Chocolate Cheesecake Cupcake Surprises. My roommate AA just gave me one. It is like heaven with melted chocolate chunks.

7. Blogging. I had no idea how much fun it would be when I got started, and I've met so many cool people (and a small number of militant anti-Muslim freakshows) doing this! And maybe one day Penguin Putnam will ask for permission to publish the whole thing in book format and I will become rich and famous and will move to England and buy a castle like Madonna. (Will not, obviously, be like Madonna in other aspects, such as vulgarity or mystical Judaism.)

8. Sunny days. (Cue the Sesame Street theme.) I really need to remember to appreciate these things right now, because they are beautiful. Ditto for the Wasatch mountains and the gorgeous sunsets. Next year will consist of a vast array of clouds, fog, rain, mists, drizzles, mizzles, and whatever else England has tucked up its sleeve. You will probably find me blogging through tears of joy and happiness when I actually do see the sun.

9. Great Roommates. These are the girls who are going to let me crash on the couch for a few weeks after my housing contract ends on September 1st. It would be very inconvenient for me to be packing for England while living in a van down by the river!!!

10. Chocolate. And brie. I don't eat these two things together, but I'm always grateful for them. I'm grateful for friends like Cicada who teach me to marinate the brie in lemon juice, olive oil, onion, and red pepper before serving it warm over baguettes. I'm also grateful to the good people at Costco who sell that huge brie wheel for something like $3.99 so that I can buy it and eat it like pizza if I feel like it, which I haven't yet, but still. I thank you.

And God Bless Us, Everyone!

Read More

Excerpt from Post Secret.

Here's it.
Read from left to right. :)












Enjoy more by clicking on the link on the bar on the right. :)

Read More

Because I'm a cranky old lady

If you ever find yourself wondering why I do or say certain things, that will usually be the answer. It's been coming on gradually, but I feel like I'm thisclose to being the old lady on the porch who screeches at the neighborhood kids while throwing beer bottles at their heads.

Here are just a few cranky old lady thoughts I've had in the last few days:

1. What is with those people at church who study voice or whatever and decide to start singing their own higher descant during the hymns? You know who I'm talking about, especially if you attend a BYU ward. I mean, I could see this being a beautiful and enriching thing as part of a choir number where there were other sopranos besides just them doing it. Otherwise it's about as appropriate as me whipping out a pan flute and going to town during "How Great Thou Art."
2. Was there some sort of memo that proclaimed it okay to bring one's cellular phone into church? And did the memo also say that it's perfectly fine to use sacrament meeting as a time to send text messages to your idiot friends? Because I'm seeing this happen, and it's an ugly, ugly thing. Let me say this once: You have absolutely nothing so important to say that it can't wait 45 minutes. I'm sure no one is bleeding or dying, because if that were the case you wouldn't be calmly sitting during the meeting, sending out the annoying blue glow of "I'm using my cell phone because I'm a twit" directly into my retinas.
3. Sunday at my complex seems to be the day where people roam about aimlessly (or perhaps purposely) and then "drop in" to an apartment to hang out. I realize this is all well and good and social and blah blah. But there are limits. First off, I shouldn't have to drop whatever I'm doing just because some guys took it into their head to go a-visitin' at 11:30pm. Sure, I may welcome the distraction, especially if the guys are cute, but it's likely that I won't, especially if the visit lasts several hours with absolutely no regard for social cues like yawning, paralysis, and death. This is on account of the old woman factor (my bladder can't take it) and on account of the "I didn't call and invite you over and therefore am not obligated to be the hostess" factor. So quit hijacking my Sundays, people. I have naps to take and trash to read. (Note to actual friends: This, of course, does not apply to you. If you came to see me I would rejoice and feed you baked goods until you had a tummy-ache.)

Whew. I'm glad I got all that off my chest. Now I'm going to find a mustard plaster and some needlepoint to keep me busy until bedtime, which is in exactly 1 hour.

Read More

Enough with the Pioneers already

I realize that I should be okay with this. The backlash and subsequent nightmares from the 1997 Pioneer Sesquecentennial have finally died down, and I'm sleeping again at night. I should have been able to take it.

But today is Pioneer Day, and I just can't stand all the dead frozen baby stories.

Could there be a worse thing to keep telling stories about? "So this one time there was a dead frozen pioneer baby and the wolves ate it." "And this other time there was a dead frozen pioneer baby, and everyone was so sad that they froze and died too. Also they didn't have arms anymore, because they froze off. So you need to be nice about the pioneers." Seriously, how is this helpful?

Maybe my problem is that I don't have any dead frozen babies in my ancestry. My parents are converts to the LDS Church. So while I am very grateful to the pioneers in general for keeping the Church going long enough to produce the missionary who taught my parents, I don't have specific handcart/wolves/amputation stories to feel especially proud about.

Also, I think the whole concept of the handcart trek reenactment is a funny one. "Hey, they had to go walking around in dresses across the desert because no one had thought of cars and sunscreen yet. Let's do it too, so we'll know how much it sucked!"

People talk about how our challenges are much greater than the pioneers, so what will people do 150 years from now to commemorate us?

• Pioneers 2150: Attend a rave and avoid the pitfalls of drugs, alcohol, and STDs! Extra points if you call your parents to come get you--ice-cream party afterwards if you get your friends to leave too!
• EFY Activity 2153: Spend 3 hours on a 2005 Internet simulation while resisting pornography, online gambling, and sexual predators! Remember to Crash and Tell!
• High School 2005 (as reimagined in 2160): Enjoy a day of high school! Experience education the way your pioneers ancestors did--complete with emotional torture, ostracism, anti-Mormon teachers, and early-morning seminary!

It'll be big. I can feel it.

Read More

You may have noticed . . .

. . . that the place looks a little different.

I was all excited about my Voice of Reason 2.0 and spent hours and hours modifying a new template--changing colors, fonts, importing graphics, IMing Cicada to ask for her opinion on things, etc. It was going to be this gorgeous and daring yet tasteful expression of my personality. It was going to have welcoming fonts and pleasing color combinations with custom-made backgrounds.

In short, it was going to be perfect.

Only the more I worked on it the less I liked it. Suddenly it was too bright, too loud, to difficult to read. The little flaws that seemed unimportant when I was still in the "let's just see" phase became glaring and horrible as I approached the "let's take this out and show people" phase. Last night I stared at it, imagining my friends taking one look and going, "Ugh! And that's her personality?" But I felt like I had to make it work because I'd already put so much of myself and my time and energy into this thing!

But then the smarter half of my brain took over, reminding me of a certain Very Important Truth (get out your pencils, kids!):

Simply putting time and energy into something doesn't make it worthwhile.

I am not saying that worthwhile things don't require time and effort, because they do, or that I think everyone should be quitters, because they shouldn't. However, when we recognize that a pursuit isn't worthwhile, quitting becomes the smart choice.

But too often we find ourselves plugging doggedly ahead, wasting time and postponing the inevitable. You see this all the time--in dating relationships, in career paths, on drives through rural Idaho. We're tempted to say, "It's true that I'm miserable, but hey, I've come this far, and maybe it'll get better. Plus, I really owe it to (-----) to see this through."

Um, no. No you don't. It's that kind of thinking that almost got me married to the wrong guy a few years ago. Today I would be wearing twinsets and pearls in some New Jersey apartment with an investment banker husband I never saw and wasn't attracted to. Also I would probably be hooked on uppers. And it's not like I could just say,"Oh, I changed my mind" at that point. Is this what you really want for me? Is it??

Point is, you're not getting Voice of Reason 2.0. You're getting Blogger's TicTac (Blueberry) by Dan Cederholm. Thanks Dan, you're the best.

Read More

Had fun with my brother.

Haha, what a rarity!

I had a hearty time watching Tv with my brother. We both laughed like nuts at some pathetic woman on Tv, which happens to be Variety Big Brother. Cranky people in that crappy show. I like.

I just realised I have a rather hunky guy for a brother. He's starting to become tanned and toned, and he's starting to syle his hair and his image. Cool! Just that he has to go out for an eye-opener instead of rotting at home gaming and to read more. He's rather funny too, he will integrate chim chinese cheng yu(s) to suan people very very very very badly, and all those yan yu(s) too. In all, he's growing into a fine man. Good. :)

Oh yes, I'm delving deeper into reading again! Hooray! My old pastime before the manifestation of magic and flourishing which has took up so much of my time for the past year. Reading is fun! Though constant hardcore reading can hurt your eyes quite a bit. Time to put a pause to magic and all which are so time-consuming, and expand my knowledge and language prowess till the level of Dani Filth The Master. And, time to get serious in my studies too. Well, not too serious. Just driven and fuelled enough. :) And, SM is becoming so boring and mundane for me, as Absence maketh the heart growth fonder, I think it's better not to waste too much time there, hanging around. Time management. ;) I feel myself maturing, forgetting past useless habits like wasting time at SM, doing nothing... Haha, I've grown!

Read More

In England

It's 73 degrees. Or at least it will be tomorrow. I could really go for some of that, you know?

I just went to www.weatherchannel.com so that I could point out the difference between 73 degrees and the version of scorched-over hell I'm currently living in. This site informs me that it's 83 degrees in Provo. But that it only feels like 81.

Wow.

So even though I just drove to the DMV and almost swerved into oncoming traffic at the sight of my bright red sweaty face in the vanity mirror, it's only 83 degrees? Good to know it's all in my head.

Nevermind that I unbuttoned my shirt and blew frantically down my own cleavage while waiting for the air conditioning to kick in.

Or that I had to peel myself out of the car and felt every layer of my clothing unstick from my body in the manner of an oozing toilet plunger.

The National Weather Service, by the way, says that today the highs are around 100. I don't even want to repeat what I would like The Weather Channel to go do with itself, but suffice it to say that we are no longer on speaking terms.

Also, I've decided that I don't like hot summers anymore. It's all well and good when you're a kid and you can spend the entire 3 months submerged in water at the pool, even if it's a military base pool where they make you get out of the water and stand dripping on the side of the pool when they play the national anthem at the end of the day. (Man I miss that.) But when you're a grown-up with a job, a day like this is just torture. There was a really seedy motel just next to the DMV, but it seemed to have some semblance of a pool in the back and I seriously considered scaling the fence and throwing my fully-dressed self in the water, regardless of floating beer cans, cigarette butts, or gators.

I've told Savvymom that she should really get her daughter a kiddie pool. My super secret plan was that if she went out and bought one right now then I could go sit in it when I babysit her spawn tonight.

Me: I mean, don't you think she would like a kiddie pool? Don't you think she probably needs a kiddie pool?

SM: Hey, you can buy her one.

Me: How much are they?

SM: I dunno, 5 bucks or something.

Me: The crap? You won't spend 5 bucks on your daughter?

SM: I don't have 5 bucks. If you buy one today after work you can bring it when you come over tonight.

Some people are jerks.

Only what she doesn't know is that if I buy the thing then I'm the boss of it. And I decide who gets to sit it, and I just might let her roast her pregnant self to a crisp while Savvy and I play in the pool like happy people. Then once they're gone I'm going to eat all their ice cream.

So there.

Read More

Captive Audience

So I went to the state prison last night--the really scary one up at Point of the Mountain. What can I say? True love makes you do crazy things.

Only I just remembered that one day my dad might read this and I really don't want him calling me up to ask me what the crap I'm thinking of, so let's just clarify that I did not visit the Utah State Correctional Facility to pick up guys.

I went to be part of the Healing Power of Music.

My roommate AA's grandparents are serving a mission up there at the prison. They work in the family history center, which I think is a great idea. Let's just put all the inmates to work in family history centers! Then they can do my family history for me, because let's face it, I have a job and they don't.

The family history center is in the Chapel building, and they hold church services and activities and things there as well. Last night was an Activity Night, and AA's grandparents asked if she would come and play her harp (she is a brilliant harpist). AA agreed because she's done this before for them, and even got another harp friend to come too. (Now go back and read the title of this post and have a chuckle at how funny I am.)

Then she asked if I wanted to come to the prison to watch.

Me: Like, watch you play?

AA: Yeah

Me: But can't I do that at home? Without the convicts?

AA: It's actually a really cool experience. I mean, it feels strange to be there at first, but the inmates who come to these things are the ones who are trying to turn their lives around, and they really appreciate things like this.

(Ugh. Did I mention that in addition to being a brilliant harpist, she's also a very generous and caring person?)

Me: Yeah, I bet they do. Okay, fine. I'll go with you sometime.

AA: Great. It's next Thursday and I'll need your driver's license number, Social Security number, and birthdate. Now would be great.

(Did I also mention that behind her sweet exterior there's this will of iron? Dang German ancestry . . . )

So last night AA, a guy friend, and I drove to the slammer. (Rules for visiting: no jeans and no tight shirts. I'm not even kidding.) On the way there, AA chose to reveal a key bit of information.

AA: Oh . . . by the way . . . I talked to my grandpa today and he says it'll be a smaller group tonight.

Me: Okay . . . what does that mean?

AA: Well . . . it's just a different group than the one I usually play for.

Me: Different how?

(pause)

AA: It's kind of the sex offenders.

Me: WHAT??? It's Sex Offenders Night?? Are you kidding me??

AA: I didn't actually know that when I agreed to come play. But it'll be fine.

Me: Um, I don't think sex offenders need to hear harp music, okay? They probably wouldn't even appreciate it. Why couldn't they have invited us to Tax Evasion Night or something?

AA: (smiled sympathetically)

Only then I remembered that I'll be sitting in the audience next to Guy friend. The sex offenders wouldn't staring at me for 45 minutes--they would be staring at AA. Then I felt like a jerk.

It ended up not being that bad, though. And as AA predicted, it was even kind of cool. Most of the guys who were there didn't look or act like creepy guys at all--I felt kind of bad for some of them. They looked like guys you might see at church or something. I know, they've done really really bad things, but they're the ones who are going to church services and working on family history and taking classes and listening to harp concerts. Plus it turns out they weren't all sex offenders. Some of them were there for murder.

We had an opening and a closing prayer, and everyone was very reverent and quiet and laughed at AA's jokes and gave AA and her friend a standing ovation when they finished. They asked all kinds of good questions about the harp and how it works, and said how much they appreciated the beautiful music.

When they were all finished answering questings, a bunch of people came up to shake AA's hand and thank her, and for a second I thought, "Gaagh! Why is there mingling? Is there supposed to be mingling???" Then I thought that I'd better get over it and just mingle like a nice person.

And of course, I ended up with Skeezy Guy. He didn't say or do anything creepy, but there was something about him that was just off. We talked about music, and I kept watching his eyes, thinking, "Okay, as soon as I see them go lower than my face I am gone." He's been in there for 11 years, and I don't even want to think about what puts you in prison for 11 years.

When we left I mentioned to AA that the inmates did seem like a nice bunch, but that I managed to talk with the skeeziest guy there.

AA: "You mean Farrell?"

Me: "Yeah, you know him?"

AA: "Yeah, I usually keep an eye out for that one. He's . . . a little different."

Perfect. Who says I can't find me a man?

Read More

Luggage Part II

So remember how I picked out that handsome new Samsonite Spinner a few weeks ago? Now I've found him a little sister and she is a cutie. This makes me have yet another thing in common with Angelina Jolie.

Please say hello to my new Atlantic Citrus Cherry Two-Piece Luggage Set. It comes with this funky-looking "sling bag" that I will probably never use. Also, you should know that the cherry red color is darker than this picture makes it look.

I think this means I have officially Arrived. Gone are the days of the military-issue green duffel bag, held together with safety pins and duct tape. Banished are the black suitcase sets purchased at Shopko, covered in skid marks and dog prints and moose tracks. I am now The Girl with The Cool Luggage.

But, in the spirit of full disclosure, there's something I should tell you.

It's expandable.

Yeah. I don't even want to talk about it.

Read More

A little about my school life.

Hey this post is going to be related to my school life, obviously.

Well, I'm having some intense fun with a strangely enough girl named Tan Yee Shin aka Tan Eat Shit aka Tan Gu Gu (wait long long in hokkein) aka Mrs. Chew aka Boonie Shin and the list goes on. I have declared that I'm her stead on Wednesday when me and her wanted to go to Compass Point for a Rotiboy feast. Upon hearing the declaration, Jiao Bin aka JelpFINE became so traumatised, that SHE grabbed my arm and said ,"Yee Shin is MINE! Don't take her away from me! I very scared leh!' Anyways, I'm female one, because I'm shorter. Then she abruptly abandoned me, just because of that Wendy and some other girl. Sigh I guess the Boy have to wait. Before parting ways, I broke off with Yee Shin. That's a very romantic relationship indeed.

Yee Shin sucks! Yee Shin cannot make it lah!

Anyways, there have been seat changes in my class. Now, there's a prisoner style of seating, each person will occupy a cell of a x-coordinate ranging from A to G, and a y-coordinate ranging from numbers 1 to 6. It's pretty much like a graph paper. So I'm incarcerated in this Cell D4. Great. My fellow inmates near my vicinity are Alden the Depressive Kid, Junjie the Ninja?!, Eveline the Outcast, Pin Jing the I-Have-Not-Found-Out-Yet, Adrain the Bear with the mind of a Pentium 4 HT computer with a 512 RAM blah blah blah, Lincoln the Uber Fast Typewriter, Calven the Chink in Detriot, and finally Darwin the Evolutionist or whatever you call it. I want Yee Shin to come nearer! I want to bully her! That's my only sane pastime in school. Please... Keep me sane, bring Shin nearer!

And, Mr Mok says he's SEXY. Doubt so. What a narcissist?!

Andm the school food officialy sucked. And the class have spammed the school with numerous suggestion forms saying Let Us Eat In Class! I have cooked up a notion of a mass Hunger Strike in the Parade Square, but no one seemed to be bothered, not a bit. Sigh. It works! Enough said, like what I wrote in the form.

Oh how great! The common test has been brough forward, which means no more clashes with Slipknot's gig! Hooray! But the CONs ultimately is that I have less time to study. DANG.

Ok I'll stop ranting here. Folks reading, have fun and stay (sic)! Haha, Slipknot fever is resurfacing! Damn the media, it's too commericalised, for Christ's sake!

Oh yes, last but not least, Yee Shin sucks. ;)

Read More

I'm getting lighter!

I have lost 2 kg without me even noticing it. Wow.

Maybe it's because of my school canteen's lousy offer of food that encouraged me to go hungry. That's definitely the reason.

So, yeah, my BMI index has reduced from a 19.3 to 18.4. Almost a whole number!

I guess, now I can indulge myself more since I've lost some weight. :p

Read More

Muscles

Hee. This is me and my brothers after church. Check out how cut we are. Army Brother (on the right) is showing me all these cool new push-ups to do. So in a couple of weeks I'll have arms just like Angela Bassett's.

Read More

Flirt Skirt

First, I must report that I bought myself a cute skirt today at Gap. Rejoice with me. Mine is camel-colored and very cute. It's odd how I never find anything at Gap in Provo, but when I'm in Alaska I always end up with some great sale item--and I don't have to pay tax. Sweet.

Alaska, it must be said, is a strange place. I am not an Alaskan. My parents are becoming Alaskan, and my younger brothers pretty much are, but I'm not. No doubt this (among other things) is disappointing to young men I meet. They automatically think that I must be some kind of great gal who just loves a good 20-mile trek through the mosquito- and bear-infested tundra.

Sorry, but no. Here are just a few ways in which I do not fit the Alaskan mold.

1. I don't get the Permanent Fund. Sorry, I have to earn all my money.
2. I don't own anything by Helly Hansen, North Face, or REI.
3. I don't worry about The Communists and What They're Up To.
4. I don't like salmon. At all.
5. I don't hunt, and I barely fish.
6. I'm all for gun control.
7. My radio stations do not play a mix of Rod Stewart, Melissa Etheridge, Seal, and Jewel.
8. I don't dream of moving back to Alaska to live out the rest of my days.
9. I don't drive a Suburban or Subaru.
10. I don't actually like fleece.

However, you can't live here long enough without picking up some habits. So here are the ways that I think I may be Alaskan, a little bit.

1. I can identify the different species of bear and know which one you do not play dead with.
2. I recognize that moose are not some amusing combination of cow and horse, but are in fact dangerous, dangerous animals.
3. I go completely insane when I hear people refer to that slush patch on the back of Mount Timpanogos as a glacier. Tell me, if I found a patch of snow in my backyard that didn't melt in the spring, would that be a glacier too??
4. I think that people who call 30 degrees cold are wussy babies.
5. I'm a halibut snob.
6. When I come home to visit my family in the summer, I remember how beautiful Alaska is and start thinking that maybe, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to live up here again--especially now that they're starting to get some good shopping.

Read More

Stupid Kenai

So the stupid Kenai peninsula decided to catch itself on fire, and all the smoke decided to head on up to Anchorage and Eagle River (where my parents live) yesterday. The morning dawned with a clear blue sky, but within a few hours it was like living on the set of "Backdraft" or something ridiculous.

Here's the thing--you get clear sunny days around here so infrequently that they're like this precious, precious gift. And everyone starts calling in sick to work and putting on short shorts to showcase their halibut-white legs. So to receive a gorgeous day like that and then to have it thwarted by smoke so thick that you can't even see your neighbor's house just not fair.

Some people still tried to make the best of it. The Eagle River Bear Paw Festival is going on this weekend and I saw a bunch of hardy Alaskans putting their children on the pony rides and browsing through booths with their red-rimmed eyes and hacking coughs.

Around midnight last night, things started clearing up. Today's weather: Cloudy and 63 degrees. Humph.

On a brighter note, Coolboy only has about 100 pages left of Harry Potter 6, and then he will give it to me. And we're visiting his place of employment for lunch. If anyone would like to make recommendations, feel free.

Read More

Home Sweet Alaska . . .

. . . where it's sunny and 70 degrees, which is quite the contrast to Provo, which is an eye-ball frying 104 degrees.

Suckers.

Also, just found out my Mom reads this blog now, so we'd best watch ourselves. Only I won't actually tell her who any of you are, so you're still safe. It's a good visit so far--only tense moment was when she saw me applying Clinique foundation in the car instead of Mary Kay. I thought she might pull the Suburban over right there and kill me.

Kidding, Mom! Love you the most!

So here are some of my Alaska highlights so far:

--Napped on the plane instead of watching Miss Congeniality 2, because that mess looked stupid
--Brought the usual box of Krispy Kreme donuts home with me, which cemented my status as Favorite Daughter. Who needs to go on a mission or produce the heir when they can just bring home a bunch of sugary heart-attacks in a box?
--Walking around the neighborhood at 11pm, when the sun has just barely gone down
--Sleeping in
--Lovely steak dinner last night. Pretty much the only time I have steak is when I come home.
--Alaskan King Crab for dinner tonight.
--Reading the 5th Harry Potter so as to be prepared for when I snitch a copy of the 6th one away from my brother this weekend. Shhh! Don't tell him.

Read More

Bizarro Rocks!

Bizarro rocks! Long live alternative humour!

Read More

Spitfire

I have another little sister who is not Savvymom. I've decided that her blogger-world name should be Spitfire, unless she wants something else. It fits her, though. The girl is 21, 4'11", gorgeous, and will go toe-to-toe with pretty much anyone. A few months ago she hauled off and smacked a guy who made "unwelcome advances." She even chewed out her oral surgeon, and he totally caved! I admire this, because, as we all know, dental care providers tend to shake me off my groove.

Spitfire graduated from Utah State this spring, and has been trying to figure out what to do ever since. Last night, she made the final decision to serve a mission. We've all thought that she would be a great missionary, and figured she would be the one to go, so this isn't really a shock. But still, it's a hard choice to make when there are all these options and you don't want to just head blindly on a completely wrong course. So now she feels great and excited and at peace and all that good stuff. My dad is thrilled, because she was his last hope for having a daughter on a mission. Not that he pressured any of us, mind you, but we knew he was hoping. He even offered to pay our way, which Spitfire remembered and promptly called him on.

One of my reasons for thinking that she should go was purely for statistical purposes. Because if she goes, then here's what we will have:

1. Nemesis--No mission, graduated from BYU, Master's degree from England, hopes to get married (preferably to Ioan Gruffudd) but will be the best spinster she can be until then.
2. Savvymom--Temple marriage to v nice boy at young age, babies, had to change educational plans and do lots of extra work, but will still graduate this year. Yay for Savvymom!
3. Spitfire--Graduated from USU, mission, then it's anybody's guess.

We could be the Trinity of Multiple Options for Righteous and Kick-Trash Women or something. Maybe we'll be asked to go on a lecture circuit.

I know I have lots I would like to say to the dear young girls in Young Women. Let's hope they're being raised by a different generation than the one that taught me. I came to BYU fully expecting to get married and drop out, because that's pretty much what my YW leaders told me would happen. No one ever mentioned that I might not get married and then find myself graduating with absolutely no career plan at all. (Side note: The YW leaders who told me to go to Ricks or LDS business college for just a year or two because that's all I would really need? None of their daughters graduated from college. I'm just saying.)

Of course, these women meant well. They grew up in a different time and had no way of knowing that there would be this army of single graduated LDS women in which I currently find myself. And it's a great thing to hear President Hinckley and the rest of the General Authorities talk about how important education is. They don't get up there and say, "Hey, hold off on that college stuff. You wouldn't want to become intimidating." Instead they're up there saying, "Remember to keep your priorities straight, but get all the education you can! Get off your butt and make a life for yourself and find a way to contribute!" I'm paraphrasing here, of course.

Anyway, congratulations to Spitfire as she prepares for her next big adventure!

Read More

Freak of Nature

Saturday night was the date w/the Utah Symphony up at Sundance. Beautiful music, beautiful setting, all that great stuff. Here's the playlist.

Shostakovich: Festive Overture
Brahms: Symphony No. 4 (mv't 1)
Haydn: Farewell Symphony; Finale
Offenbach: Can-Can from Orpheus in the Underworld
Copland: Hoe down from Rodeo
Dvorak: Serenade, op 22; (mv't 1)
Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 5, op. 64K (mv't 2)
Gershwin: An American In Paris

The guy (Guy #3) who took me was very gentlemanly and considerate and asked me about my hobbies. We had a nice time. And the next morning when I was teaching Sunday School I called him by the wrong name, twice. Someone should really stop me from talking. I mean, the guy is totally rebounding and I'm pretty sure I'm not interested in him, but could I have been a bigger jerk in front of a roomful of people?

Tragic.

Read More

Presenting Babylon AD video.

As you have noticed, there's now a video streaming.

Well, that's Cradle of Filth's mega Damnation and A Day's Babylon AD (So Glad For The Madness).

Well, on lookers, enjoy this visua; insanity flung at your bestial eyes. \m/

And, don't pick up unindenifited objects such as cameras on toilet seats.

Read More

London

Not that London needs my words of sympathy, but I'm so sad about what happened this morning. I was impressed by Tony Blair's statement, which said "We will show by our spirit and dignity and by a quiet and true strength that there is in the British people, that our values will long outlast theirs." It's that quiet strength that is so impressive to me. These terrorists may have struck a blow, but Londoners have overcome much worse than this.

I think our New Yorkers have a similar strength and solidarity, and we've seen that shine through during some horrific circumstances. It's comforting somehow, that at the same time we are confronted with the absolute worst in human nature, we can also see the absolute best.

I overheard a man in my office tell someone on the phone that "The Muslims are at it again" and it infuriated me. I wanted to rush right over and pick a fight, but not a whole lot makes a dent when you're talking to someone in his mid-60s who has Christmas cards from Charlton Heston posted in his cubicle. I know--I've tried. But honestly! Never mind that the Muslim Council has already made a statement of condolence, and that it's likely that Muslims were injured or killed in the attacks.

That's like saying "The Mormons are at it again" to reports of forced marriage and statutory rape in polygamous communities. You're talking about a splinter group, which identifies itself with the main religious body but participates in acts that are abhorrent to and specifically condemned by that body.

My point is, I love London, I hate what has happened, and I'm not blaming the Nation of Islam for it.

Read More

What is this feeling?

I'm not normally a violent person. Usually. Let's just clear that right up. But I have to say that this morning I would have liked nothing more than to pick up a real heavy paperweight and beat in someone's head. Of course, I'm not allowed to have a paperweight on my desk. So my laptop will have to do. And believe me, after carrying that thing around in airports for the last two years I now walk with a slump in the manner of a chimpanzee, so I know exactly how heavy it is. But I digress.

I have a coworker, whom I will call Methodical Bob. Bob is a soft-spoken, patient, very nice guy. About 18 years ago he and his wife decided to have another child.

They shouldn't have.

The son, whom I will call Punk-@$$ Brat, has been coming into the office these past few days, and spends that time 1) hitting his dad up for money and 2) whining, a lot. Since Methodical Bob's cubicle is very near my desk, I can hear all of this.

Yesterday he came in to complain about his summer job, and how he haaates it. He was also very rude and impatient with his Dad, and we got to hear all of it. Plus this kid's voice just grates on me. It's got this spoiled petulant Napoleon-Dynamite-without-the-Funny quality to it, with a subtone of, "I can't believe I'm even having to tell you this, you idiot."

Today he came in with his shiny new cell phone and spent the next hour programming it, testing all the different rings, and leaving messages on all of his friends' phones to tell them his new number. ("Hey Shantell . . . uuhhh . . . This is [Punk-@$$ Brat], just wanted to let you know that I got my own cell phone so yeah . . . you can text me whenever you want now.") At one point Methodical Bob was on the phone, and PAB actually hissed "SSHHHHHH! I'm leaving a voicemail!!"

MB: So what's your new number?
PAB: (rattles it off quickly)
MB: Hang on, that was 1-2-3 and then what?
PAB: (after a hugh angry sigh) 1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 5 . . . 5 . . .5 . . .5. It's not a hard number to memorize!

That was when I wanted to staple his head. Not that I'm allowed to have a stapler. If I ever talked to my Dad like that, especially at his workplace, I would soon find myself rethinking my actions from my new vantage point on the floor.

When he wasn't bragging about his voicemail or using it to make noises designed to send us all to the brink of madness, PAB complained about his job. He works at a car wash.

MB: So you wash and detail cars, what does the detailing involve?
PAB: Shampooing!! And everything freaking other thing you can think of!

Other gems:

PAB: "I die of heat stroke every day! I die of heat stroke every day!"

PAB: "I worked like nine hours yesterday. Nine hours!" (Yeah, Skippy. It's called a summer job.)
MB: "Well, that's not so bad."
PAB: "Are you freaking kidding?? It's slave labor!"

Then he started working on his schedule of classes for the fall. And by "working on his schedule" I mean "told his Dad to do his schedule for him."

PAB: "No foreign language. I will only learn a language if I go on a mission. That's it." (Let me start praying for your companions now.)
PAB: "No math. NO math."
PAB: "I do not want to take all of my hard classes first . . . what's so wrong with that?!"

PAB: "Maybe I could take choir."
MD: "What about Intro to Music?
PAB: "Intro . . . to . . . Music? Are you kidding???"

Then came my all-time favorite. Ahem.

MD: "You'll need to take Freshman English."
PAB: "I'll take that next semester, Dad. I'm a college student. I want to have some free time!"
MD: "Well, I think you should take it your first semester."
PAB: "Why should I?"
MD: "Because you'll need to get used to writing at the college level. It will be important in your other classes."
PAB: "Look Dad, I am a great writer. Two of my teachers even told me I'm like the best writer they've ever had. So . . . I'm not really worried about that."

At this point I had to slide out of my chair and crouch on the ground because I didn't want either of them to come out of the cubicle and see how hard I was laughing. The girl next to me was doing the same thing.

I'm so excited for his first college paper, I can hardly even stand it.

Read More

If I had a chance...

If I had a chance to learn some extra languages, I would surely choose German and Norwegian.

Reasons being, for German :

Rammstein being my hot favourite band, so I wan to cover their songs one day with ease and emotions instead of just mouthing the sounds. Rammstein is good!

Adolf Hilter, enough said.

I find German very intriguing, and an almost brutish sound but they still sound so majestic and full of meanings. It's intricate.

I want to learn German!

Norwegian:

Dimmu Borgir, a true blue Norwegian band, has some briliant songs that were sang in beautiful sounding Norwegian. I want to cover them with ease and mastery as well.

Norway, being the ''Fatherland'' of Metal Music. Enough said.

Norwegian, just fantastic sounding. Enough movitation to spur me to learn Norwegian.



Ah wells, these are just my dreams. After the bloody Os then. =D.

Read More

Row! Row!

I went down to Cicada's place of employment today to drop off some things from my office. Friends, when she tells you that it's crowded in there, she does not exaggerate. Those poor people looked like a bunch of slaves lashed to the oars of some Viking craft.

I tried to show her a formatting problem I'm having with Voice of Reason 2.0, (coming soon to a screen near you) and there was absolutely nowhere to sit or stand. Rather than prop my armpit on the head of the tall boy sitting next to her, I had to sit in Cicada's lap so that we could both look at her computer screen. Only then I thought that not might set the right sort of office tone, so I had to get up.

Then I slipped into another friend's cubicle and we had a nice long juicy chat about life, love, degredation, official reprimands, and other work chit-chat. I think at my next job I will just put the ACLU on my speed dial or something. Or at least make friends with the nice folks down at HR. Maybe I should start at this job, though, on account of I may have blown off a direct (and completely ridiculous, I might add) order from the head boss this morning. We'll see if anything comes of it.

Read More

In the words of Bridget . . .

. . . Am wanton sex goddess! Hurrah!

(Would like to clarify, though, for friends and family that am not actually participating in such behaviors.)

Turns out that being a substitute teacher in Sunday School last week did all kinds of good for me. The teacher of the other class didn't show up, so I had pretty much every guy in the ward held absolutely captive by the honeyed music that is my voice. Also, having the entire ward sitting there made me nervous, which caused me inject humor in the lesson as some adrenaline-fueled survival tactic. So now they all think I'm great fun, rather than what I actually am (a nervous idiot who jabbers away in an incomprehensible garble).

Point is, I'm now a dating machine. Here's what happened this weekend:

Guy #1 - Nice young man, victim of the stupid misunderstanding I posted about last week. We went hiking and to dinner and I had a really good time. He seems smart, funny, nice, quick-witted, all those good things. Am not totally sure that I get him yet, though. You know how with some people you can tell that they're thinking a whole bunch of things that they're not saying? And I don't know if, after the date, he wants to ask me out again.

Guy #2 - Set up by non-smug married friends who have good taste. He was tall, handsome, v. nice and patient w/small children, and I think we were both bored out of our minds by each other. It was so very difficult to make conversation! I don't know if we were both having off nights or what, but it was kind of painful. I felt like I'd been doped up on Vicodin. And as a PSA to everyone, if you go to Macey's to get a soft-serve cone and they tell you they don't have any chocolate dip available, just go without! Do not, under any circumstances, allow them to dip your cone in something called Black Raspberry. It will taste like an air freshener and you will hate everyone involved.

Guy #3 - Called me Sunday night and began with, "Um, are you dating anybody? Would it be okay if I asked you out?" I was confused, as I thought he was dating someone else quite seriously. So I asked and the poor guy spilled this whole story about how things just weren't progressing and she suggested that they take a break to date other people and see if they really want to be together, and he guesses sometimes that just happens but it's really hard and he's just hoping for the best and has that ever happened to me before? Basically, he's a fragile individual who has been told to date other people and called up the first girl whose name he knew. But hey, I get to go see the Utah Symphony up at Sundance next weekend!

Guy #4 (I know! 4!) - Introduced himself at church, complimented last week's lesson, and said that he think I should be a stand-up comedian. Ouch. Am now terrified that I may have spent the entire lesson making people laugh rather than inviting the Spirit to teach true principles. He invited my roommates and I to watch to the 4th of July parade w/his apartment, which include Guy #1. So I went, heaven help me, partly to have another chance to hang out w/G1 and see if there could be anything there. Jury's still out on that.

Read More

Soon enough... I will be a female vocalist in a Black Metal Band. \m/

Woot!

Soon enough... I shall own a band, a black metal band, with heavy influences of the newly born genre Love Metal.

That means, my band will be covering extensively on HIM, Cradle of Filth (my chance to shriek like Dani with unbridled ferocity!) and maybe a little of Dimmu Borgir and Hammerfall.

Gosh! This is TOO good to be true.

Ok, I shall go think of a good and impactful name with loads of meanings to it.

Hereby, I sign a pact to Metal Music.

\m/

Read More

I got it!

Woot!

I got hold of my first even metal gig tickets -- Slipknot's 'The Subliminal Verses World Tour 2005' Live in Singapore, Fort Canning Green.

Joey and Corey, here I come!

Oh yes, second thing, I have no idea but I feel so bored and emotionless about magic and even flourishes nowadays. Maybe it's the peak of it, now is the maximum curve, going downwards...

Ack, anyways, it's about time for me to get serious about my much yearned fantasy of being a vocalist in a metal music band! It's time.

The dream of being a vocalist has been ingrained in me for close to 4 years. So it's about time. =) Maybe I can try asking Joesph if I could join his band or not. Woot!

Anyways, they got a record label deal already. Their debut album is called Unnatural Forces. \m/

Yup, the more I think about it, the more I want to delve deeper into the metal scene. \m/ Metal music is kind of my real soul saviour, when I come to think about it.

Metal made me feel truly alive, added new never-before-seen dimensions into my life. The more I listen to them, the more I feel attached to it. It's like signing a pact with the devil, selling your soul to metal. (ahem, not rock n roll)

\m/

Read More

Declaration of Independence

Last year the Beautiful and Talented Abby got me started on my now-favorite 4th of July tradition. She sent me to NPRs website, where you can listen to their yearly broadcast of the Declaration of Independence being read aloud.

I listened on my headphones at work, and by the end I was wiping my eyes and sniffling at my desk. I'd never heard the entire text before, and it hit me with a lot more force than I'd felt when I memorized the first paragraph back in the 8th grade.

I can't find the 2005 edition on their website yet, but you can get the 2004 one here. (Click on the Multimediat Slide Show.)

Now I'm off to check out the Provo Freedom Festival and to have a picnic at my sister's house. Am very excited about the menu:

Sub sandwiches (possibly Philly cheese steaks in honor of the day and everything)
Pasta salad
Watermelon
Sour Cream & Cheddar Ruffles dipped in cottage cheese (daltongirl's famous recipe, which everyone should try)
Trifle w/strawberries and blueberries
My cute niece Savannah (more as entertainment, though, than actual menu item)

Then tonight we will watch the Provo Stadium of Fire fireworks from her backyard, instead of having to pay obsene amounts of cash to watch the likes of Lonestar, Mandy Moore, and Osmond 2G for 6 hours inside the stadium.

Hope y'all have great weekends!

Read More

My baggage

Say hello, everyone. This is my new suitcase. Only mine is blue. I haven't decided on a name, yet.

I had to put a lot of thought into this, since it involves money. That automatically makes it a life-or-death decision that must be researched fully and experts should be brought in and maybe I'd better just not spend any money at all. I'm the same way when it comes to buying a 50-cent candy bar at the check-out stand. The other reason why it's such a momentous decision is that I'm packing it for England, so there are serious questions to ask here.

1. Will it be big enough for all my stuff?

2. Will it be cool enough for the kind of first impression I want to make over in the Land of Colin Firth?

Although, really, considering what I'll probably look like after 18 hours of travel, this suitcase may be the only halfway presentable thing about me.

One thing I learned during my suitcase searches was this new concept of "expandable" luggage. Now they're making these zippered partitions in your suitcase that magically create 2" of space that you didn't even have before. And when I first heard about it, I thought, "So . . . are they exceeding the airline requirements or something? I mean, how did they get permission for these extra two inches? Won't the people who check your luggage notice that your bag is now too big to be carried on or checked?"

I'm pretty sure that's not how it works, though. It looks like they just make a bag that is within the size requirements, and then create this expansion that makes the bag bigger but keeps it within those parameters. This leaves me to wonder why they couldn't have just built a bigger bag in the first place. Since there's no one to whom I can ask these questions, I had an imaginary conversation on my way back from Costco. Yes, I do that. And no, it's not weird.

Me: So what's the deal with the expandable bags?

Luggage Guy: Well, they're pretty much the best thing in the world, and I'm a genius for thinking of them.

Me: Really.

LG: Oh yes. The traveler can create up to 15% more space in her luggage! It is like magic!

Me: Is this space in addition to what the airlines allow? Would she be sticking it to the Man in any way?

LG: Oh no, this is completely within airline regulations.

Me: Uh huh. So . . . if it's within airline regulation size, couldn't you have just made the bag with more space to begin with?

LG: Well you see, with our magical system, the customer can choose to keep her luggage at the traditional size or she can choose to expand based on her varied travel needs.

Me: But why would anyone choose to have 15% less space in her suitcase?

LG: That's why our system is so great! You can choose to have more!

Me: No, that's why your system is a stupid pile of crap. What woman in this world would deliberately choose to limit her packing capabilities? If you can make the bag bigger, why not just do it instead of making it smaller and then congratulating yourself for giving people space that they should have had in the first place?

LG: But if you take a look at these customer satisfaction polls . . .

Me: You know what? Just shut your smug face up. And go stand in that corner before I slap you.

That's why I went with the Samsonite. I did all the math and the measurements, and it's just as big, if not bigger, than anything those expandable people have to offer. Plus, they didn't try to patronize me. They just made a freaking huge bag. And I bought it.

Read More