forgot to zip up year boots. Marissa Berenson
Yes kortney, dead is considered vintage. so remove those beautiful dead-person doilies and add them to our home collection so we can have a more vintage feel.
Kristin and i ate chicken for dinner. a whole chicken. and jamba juice. and a pumpkin sweater.
Ever listen to Frigora? ijust did.
My new favorite thing to do is listen to music on shuffle. im sure everyone else discovered this years ago when ipods became silver and thin. but i did not. and i often forget some songs among the 30 gigabites on my computer. is that a lot? probably not a lot enough.
my favorite color is yellow
i like special yogurt
my pEllows hurt my neck. i wonder if this is because they cost three dollars from walmart or because i damaged my spine.
apparently more people say melk than just me
two days ago we spray painted. in our room. our membranes turned blue. my fish basket turned pink.
impeach my bush? damn, peaches.
i dont like water but i am glad i dont live on arrakis.
my internet has not worked for a million years. tonight it does.
i spend 6-10 hours on campus every day
daniel's puppy died.
a cadillac just drove away from my house.
Kristian and i went to our storage unit to retrieve kortney's painting supplies. we found a dead mouse inside. i said a bad word. then we left. then we sat the paint on an entire backseat full of missing goods from DI.
We retrieved curtains from the di. now rexburg cannot see our bras.
i miss my flamingos when the lights are out.
i miss kortney even when i close my eyes.
i had a dream that a giant spider bat bug was flying toward me in my bed (the bug was flying toward me while i was in my bed and i was dreaming in my bed). as it came toward me i started screaming for kristin and covering my face with blakets. in real life. also in real life, kristin stood up while dreaming and started screaming in real life and turned on the lights. we both woke up in the midst of this. then went back to sleep. then i limped toward kristin and she thought i was a tall white ghost witch. i am.
good night. come to Spori 114 if you ever wanna hang.
I am home in Texas, working for fall semester. Job hunting in Sherman, Texas can be some what of a thorn in my side most of the time. However, recently I was lucky enough to come upon a little diamond in the rough. I was antiquing in Historic downtown Sherman.. (which now has a facebook group in case you're into stalking), when I walked past a beautiful flower shop called Special Occasions. I remembered buying corsages from them in high school and being quite impressed with their work. Due to the fact that I have a strange obsession with flowers, (picking them, painting them, photographing them, receiving them..ect.) I decided to step in and see if they were hiring. A cute, raspy voiced woman named Melody said she couldn't afford any employees at the moment... but that she had an idea. She picked up the phone and before I knew it...an old women from across the street was giving me a tour of her funeral home. Pat Dannel... (the mysterious, old, southern women tour guide), is the owner of both the flower shop and a well known funeral home (established in 1908) in the area. She told me that she would love to hire me as her secretary if I wasn't too uncomfortable with the whole 'death' part of the job.. and that I would also be able to work some in the flower shop when big events were happening.
After chatting with Pat for a while, I couldn't help but love her. She is a crazy eighty year old southern woman who constantly says very offensive things such as 'i love colored people,' and 'all trashy people come from Oklahoma.' One would usually assume that this type of behavior would scare a potential employee off... however, due to the fact that I happened to have a very outspoken and inappropriate grandmother myself.. I felt right at home. Along with loving Pat...I must admit my strange morbid curiosity in working at a funeral home. I have thought many times in my life... who in the world would want to be in the funeral business? The answer is...people who are born into it...and maybe desperate college students.
The moral to this story is that now.. I work at a funeral home. Feel free to add to the many death puns that have already been offered in my behalf. Bless you Trevor and Eve. On my first day I delivered ashes in a metallic gold urn to someones home. On my second day, I saw a dead man with grass coming out of his mouth. On my third day I began picking up old person things to say like 'tacky,' and 'he's so confused he doesn't know whether to wind his butt or scratch his watch.' On my fourth day, I inherited a vintage lace handkerchief from a deceased woman named Mary Kathleen. On my fifth day, I witnessed two old men fighting about foreigners not learning English. On my sixth day, I hid myself in the flower shop making all sorts of fall arrangements and corsages for homecoming. Flower shaping and arranging has indeed become my newest artistic outlet. In fact.. Rachel and I have decided to have a small flower shop connected to our vintage store after graduation. Until then, cremating, burying, inheriting, snooping, being creeped out, laughing at rednecks, and arranging colored foliage should keep me well entertained.
Bird houses.. my fav.
I LOVE MOSS.
Im in LOVE.
Why AM I so long winded? I truly have a problem. Forgive me, kind blog followers... I give you permission to read my blog entries in chapter form. Until we chat again... I send my love from Texas. Most especially to my soul-friend-mate-person Rachey... and my twin sister Kristian who are in Rexburg without me. I commend them on keeping my spirit alive and well through bike riding, DI hoarding, Mona Lisa'ing, and crafting. Bless your skinny little hearts. I hope you're not cold tonight via 'RULE: keep the temperature at 68 degrees.' I dream of you both. Party on.
and by hero i mean future lover if i'm lucky.