Yeah you know me, I'm the one who did a full on cheer and spirit fingers for the guy behind the deli counter at Delluca's Market today when he told me he had just enough chicken salad for my sandwich.
You want to know why? I'll tell you. I've been affected by something I like to call the Hierarchy of Biological Needs. It goes a little something like this:
Need 1) Sleep
Need 2) Food
Need 3) Cleanliness
Need 4) Exercise
Need 5) Work
Need 6) Social
Need 7) well, um...we'll skip that one for now since most of us are skipping this anyway
All these needs form a cohesive unit which maintains my sanity. Now, these needs can reconfigure at any time for level of importance, but as you see right now sleep is at the top of my hierarchy. And because I generally exist in a constant state of sleep deprivation, I am seriously koo-koo. Also if you have ever been around me when my blood sugar level is at a dangerous low, you know that my other personality, I like to call her Reagan (from the exorcist), comes out. So really one and two are my essentials, the rest can either be there or not. It's really the combinations met that determine my ability to control myself. Like a 4, 3, 5, 2, with a little 1, is okay I'm tolerable but the filter is off. A 5, 6, 4, with no 2, or 1, that's getting dangerous. Perfect day: 1, 1, 7, 2, 4, 3, 5, 6, 1, with some more 7 in there somewhere; yeah.
So when my combo's are totally imbalanced I start getting a little crazy. I know a few people have seen it when my eyes glaze over and I say things I shouldn't, or I burst into tears because the stop light is taking too long, and I don't cupcake around my animalistic needs. At these times all I want is to commit myself so I can chill in my pajamas all day, watch movies, sleep, and eat apple sauce, with nothing else to concern me but the four white walls that contain me. Straight jacket optional. It would be hard to eat my applesauce with a straight jacket on...but if it comes in black it might be hot.
What's your perfect day?
This was written with a 5, 3, 2, 5 combo, not the best mind space to be writing a post...but...someone, by the name of J. Hulet, no we'll call her Julie H., subtly hinted that I should update my blog.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
NASCAR
You know the driver's just out there, doing his thing. Going real fast, making turns, and all that stuff. Then he comes on in to the pit, and the crew fuels im' up and puts on new tires, blah, blah (I really don't know all that much about it, so I'll blah my way through).
Well, I'm really grateful for my pit crew. They fuel me up, and tighten my lug nuts, stop giggling , I said nuts, what are you in 5th grade?...oh wait that's me. Anyway, I'm just lucky I reckon'. There's a lot of places I could really jack up my ride, you know, and, well, it's just great having a good crew in yer pit. Thanks team.
Disclaimer: It's 2:30am. Don't judge me.
Well, I'm really grateful for my pit crew. They fuel me up, and tighten my lug nuts, stop giggling , I said nuts, what are you in 5th grade?...oh wait that's me. Anyway, I'm just lucky I reckon'. There's a lot of places I could really jack up my ride, you know, and, well, it's just great having a good crew in yer pit. Thanks team.
Disclaimer: It's 2:30am. Don't judge me.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
ca. 1994
So, I was disclosing a story from my drill team days the other night and I was encouraged to blog about it...so here goes.
In Utah the 24th of July brings small town parades of high school bands, student body officers, cheerleaders, and drill teams out to celebrate "Pioneer Day." Well, it just so happened that every summer the drill team rivalry was the same, and to evoke a more emotional response please liken the familiar sting of the Yankee/Red Sox relationship to my experience. Woods Cross, my school, was on the West side, a little on the poorer side, and known only for Soccer and the copious amounts of pot smokers. Bountiful, East side snobbery, known for their football team that would generally win region, and drill team that would often win state, fancy cars etc. Keep in mind I lived within Bountiful High School boundaries, but chose to attend Woods Cross on principle, my youthful brain didn't take into account that the academic program at Bountiful was superior. Anyway...back to the parade.
Summer 1994 , my lady cats and I looked on in jealous awe at the annual spectacle before us, Bountiful's drill team, the Mandonelles, always did the same thing. They never had to change their Day's of 47 routine because...it was fabulous. In the 2 mile route down Main Street B-town they always seemed to be before us in parade order, and we were always behind them on multiple levels. We were the Chatelles, and we weren't a bad team, we just weren't as well funded, and therefore...well you get the picture. Every year the Mandonelles would ride unicycles in formation in beautiful little black sparkly halter dance dresses. They would turn in absolute harmony, they would weave in and out of each other; perfectly synchronised they would perform their arm routine. Sigh...it was glorious. I MEAN THEY WERE ALL GORGEOUS AND ON UNICYCLES!!
How could the Chatelles compete with this?? Could we possibly come up with a competitive edge? We couldn't afford unicycles, and that would be a lame cover, what could we do...pogo sticks? Well, we didn't. We had three year old crap fabric dance costumes, and windbreaker flags rigged on PVC pipe. We had spray painted nude tennis shoes, we had bad advisers (just the year I was on the team), and we didn't have to weigh in every practice, so we were, I don't know, normal. It was degrading to say the least. We did our best to power through with our red lipped smiles, and our incessant high kicks, trudging along we followed in the wake of glam. But we all knew that when you're after the unicycles everybody was more interested in their cotton candy than the parade and the second rate costumes from the West side school. Wow, I guess I was really affected. Good times.
In Utah the 24th of July brings small town parades of high school bands, student body officers, cheerleaders, and drill teams out to celebrate "Pioneer Day." Well, it just so happened that every summer the drill team rivalry was the same, and to evoke a more emotional response please liken the familiar sting of the Yankee/Red Sox relationship to my experience. Woods Cross, my school, was on the West side, a little on the poorer side, and known only for Soccer and the copious amounts of pot smokers. Bountiful, East side snobbery, known for their football team that would generally win region, and drill team that would often win state, fancy cars etc. Keep in mind I lived within Bountiful High School boundaries, but chose to attend Woods Cross on principle, my youthful brain didn't take into account that the academic program at Bountiful was superior. Anyway...back to the parade.
Summer 1994 , my lady cats and I looked on in jealous awe at the annual spectacle before us, Bountiful's drill team, the Mandonelles, always did the same thing. They never had to change their Day's of 47 routine because...it was fabulous. In the 2 mile route down Main Street B-town they always seemed to be before us in parade order, and we were always behind them on multiple levels. We were the Chatelles, and we weren't a bad team, we just weren't as well funded, and therefore...well you get the picture. Every year the Mandonelles would ride unicycles in formation in beautiful little black sparkly halter dance dresses. They would turn in absolute harmony, they would weave in and out of each other; perfectly synchronised they would perform their arm routine. Sigh...it was glorious. I MEAN THEY WERE ALL GORGEOUS AND ON UNICYCLES!!
How could the Chatelles compete with this?? Could we possibly come up with a competitive edge? We couldn't afford unicycles, and that would be a lame cover, what could we do...pogo sticks? Well, we didn't. We had three year old crap fabric dance costumes, and windbreaker flags rigged on PVC pipe. We had spray painted nude tennis shoes, we had bad advisers (just the year I was on the team), and we didn't have to weigh in every practice, so we were, I don't know, normal. It was degrading to say the least. We did our best to power through with our red lipped smiles, and our incessant high kicks, trudging along we followed in the wake of glam. But we all knew that when you're after the unicycles everybody was more interested in their cotton candy than the parade and the second rate costumes from the West side school. Wow, I guess I was really affected. Good times.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
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