I want you to Believe this too. I really do.

My school had a literary magazine and I was all like "Let's write things for it!"...so I did. I thought I'd force all of you to read what I wrote for it. The subject thing I chose to write for is called a "This I believe" Essay. It's pretty much an essay slash story about what I believe in and why. Now don't let that turn you off from reading it! Sure sure. I did it in school, but a lot of my best work has been from school. You might learn something about me you didn't know, and isn't that the point of this whole thing?

Go on! Read it! I double dog dare ya! (*everyone gasps*). I said it. I said it!

This I Believe: In Laughter

As a storyteller I know there is no story that is utterly and completely true. I embellish to make my story more captivating or more entertaining. My imagination allows this to happen, and it is what I hold most dear. While at times it can make me anxious and fearful, it still defines who I am.

I once had a dream where I was being followed by a blue alien named “The Blue Crystal” who could transform itself into anything it wanted. At one point in the dream, the alien’s face was no more than three inches away from mine. I could see into its icky, extraterrestrial, black eyes. I woke up in a cold sweat. For months I refused to look at the spot in my neighborhood where, in my dream, I first laid eyes on the disturbing creature. The memory of his scrawny, disproportionate body could so easily return to my mind by just the sight of that spot. To save corrupting my imagination yet again, I would shield my eyes as we drove past.

It's unbelievable how much emotional turmoil that dream put me through. But now, I tell this story with a comedic twist. As I tell this story to my eager listeners, I act out many of the scenes I have described, and as a result my audience begins to laugh. The pride that rushes over my mind and soul when someone is losing their breath at the words I have spoken is the greatest feeling imaginable, and for that moment my fear is gone. Actually, that fear is gone forever. No longer do I hide my face at that frightening spot in my neighborhood.  Instead, I embrace it and point it out to people as we drive by saying “That’s where I first saw that stupid Blue Crystal!” And they laugh and laugh, and I laugh too, realizing that the terrifying things my imagination uses to scare me can become stories that help others find delight.

Many of my experiences in life range from fear to awkwardness, even to embarrassment beyond belief. For me to move on from the harmful inner-thoughts I create in these moments of emotional turmoil, I must relay my feelings in an upbeat form creating ecstasy and happiness out of my pain and suffering. To me this is the most important way for someone to truly move on, because I believe the moment you are able to laugh at yourself is the moment that nothing can hurt you.

Now, I am no fool. I know that laughter will not relieve the pain of a loved one dying, a mental depression, or even a broken bone. I am merely suggesting that upon accepting, or even creating humor in many circumstances, it is possible to find peace with that situation. Why not turn the story of peeing my pants in church into a story I can share with others? If someone were to tell me that story, I would have no choice but to begin to laugh that silent air-craving laugh. I would hold in a snort and cross my legs to keep myself from urinating. This behavior is okay because of you, the storyteller, who have found a way to laugh at yourself, taking away the opportunity for someone else to tell that story and make fun of you.  When you tell it, you are embracing your stories, because they are what make you you, because “there is no one alive who is Youer than You.” Thanks Dr. Suess.

That is what I plan to do. Embrace my stories of the past and the stories still to come. I want to make people laugh. I want to tell my own painful, embarrassing stories about the time I spilled soup all over a boy on our first date. Or about the time I farted in class and blamed it on the innocent boy next to me. Using my imagination and my experience, I long to turn scarlet, humiliated cheeks into cheeks that turn red from laughing. I want to change fear and humiliation into something more powerful: laughter.  I never want to stop using my hyperbolic stories to split the sides of an eager audience. That audience doesn’t know the horrifying or humiliating truth behind the story. They don’t know that by telling that story I have become completely vulnerable to the world.

So why not be vulnerable? Why not share those moments that caused anxiety; because what listeners will hear is a funny story. But in reality, that story is much more than just a good laugh. That story is my pain; that story is my awkwardness or my humiliation; and also, that story is my freedom. That story is my life.

Not the Stool!

So remember that whole bladder situation that I so gracefully described? It's plagued me my whole entire life. For example:

When I was about 10 I was invited to a birthday party at a friend's house. A party? Me?! I know guys, I know. I was ecstatic too. Everything was going spectacularly. Memories were being made. There was lots of food, and most importantly, laughter was ringing out above all other noises.

In't that just the greatest thing of all times? Laughter. Boy it makes my world go round. Ya know, until I pee all over that world.

We were all sitting at the island counter in her basement. I had the privilege to sit on one of the stools (there were only 2, and there were like...10 girls there. Oh the power!) Yet, to this day I wish I was a standing girl.

Who remembers anymore why you laugh. All you remember is the laughing. So, I remember I was laughing, really hard, at something someone said. Then, all of a sudden...pee. So much pee! I couldn't stop it! It was everywhere! The horror!

But nobody noticed what had just happened. So I simply stopped laughing. Stood up. Walked backwards out of the room without breaking eye contact with the group of confused girls. And slowly worked my way to  the bathroom. That is where I had to assess the situation.

"This is awful. So bad so bad. Where did all that pee even come from? I didn't even have to go to the bathroom!"

Then, the mother of epiphanies hit me....The Chair.


I walked back out into the room of pre-pubescent girls wondering what the "heck" was going on.

"Uh. So uh. Cheyanne."
"Jeannie what are you doing?"
"I uh. Well. I. Ipeedmypants."

I'm pretty sure someone actually split their side. It wasn't even a metaphor anymore!

"And, well and..."
Somebody else made the realization before I could point it out.

"LOOK AT THE STOOL!"
Right there, smack dab in the middle of a nice suede bar stool, was the biggest, darkest mark of Jeannie urination. *smacks hand to forehead*

Then! She decides to call her mom down.

"Mom! Do we have any carpet cleaner?"
"Shh. SHH. It's fine. We can fix this!"

Pretty much that night when down in history. If I look right now I can find at least 2 or 3 senior yearbook entires that describe the events of "The Night Jeannie Ruined A Bar Stool"...or or...The way I see it..."That One Time Jeannie Lost All Hope At Ever Living Down 'The Night Jeannie Ruined A Bar Stool' "

Well gosh. I should start carrying a purse simply so I can start carrying around extra pairs of underwear.  That would be the sole purpose of my purse. If you see me with one, you know what's up.

P.S. Happy 26 Anniversary to my Parents! Yet somehow I got in trouble for not getting them presents. Woah woah woah. You're suppose to get each other presents! This is the day the children sit back, relax, and possibly get a little swoob on your iPhone (sorry pops!)

This one was long. I'm exhausted.

Old things just don't die!

Well. I mean like old habits don't die. Or old memories. Old people do die. (that's really morbid.)
MOVING ON.

You know those people that you used to do things with all the time? The old school friends? I'd give them a second chance, because they can really turn your night around.

Live long and prosper.

Also new development. I'm slow, that's been determined as of fitness practice test yesterday (today?) AND I positively cannot wait for college. Oh geez.

Second "also new development": I have zero bladder control. I'm screwed for when I have children. All I know is the tiniest amount of heart rush and I pee my pants. (Niagara falls down there kids.) Gotta work on that, there won't always be puddles of water around to "accidentally fall into". One day you'll be peeing on someone's suede bar stool. (Are you drawn in? Does that sound like a fun story? Come back tomorrow for more!)

Really though. I'll know if you don't. 

So fresh.

Wanna know what's a party? Cleaning your room.

Oh gosh. The rush that you get from discarding shirts and pants that you'll never wear again really makes you feel like you can conquer the world. For example, right now? I feel like a ninja. I can defeat anything you throw at me.

Go on! Throw something at me! (preferably not anything sharp or hard. Throw something like a bunny. Ya! A bunny's good.)

Mainly I'm cleaning it out so I know what I do and do not have for college. You see. I'm a private school kid. I wore the same exact skirt to school every day for the past 7 years, give her take. For the last year for sure though. I washed it once? Once? Hmm.

I don't know how to dress myself. I really don't. I tried to once. But then my mom said "why do you look like that?" I'm not kidding! Those were her exact words. Abusive eh?

I'll just wear sweats. If a boy wants me, that'll be fun. Hahaha. I just thought of it. Anywho.

I hope today brings you good things. Oh! Happy birthday shout out to Hannah Pugh. Word up homes. You all old and what not!

K welp. Bye. 

Get Ready Guys.

I started to write a post on what I would do if the world were ending, (well maybe it is, 2012 is upon us folks!), but it got way too stressful that my ideas wouldn't be creative enough. I can't think about things like that. I feel like I would just disappoint myself at what I come up with, which would suck a whole bunch.

So instead....CRAP. I'm listening to chill music. Whenever I listen to relaxing music I always get way more deep and thoughtful than usual and I fear it will most likely severely affect what I write about. You see, listening to music like this makes me start to think about things. Not funny things. I LIKE FUNNY THINGS.

But this music is soooooo good what am I suppose to do? Just turn it off!? That's preposterous.

Okay. I'll fight through. I will get through this! We will get through this. (just so you don't feel excluded)

I like sleeping with my blanket that has donuts on it. It's as close as I can get to sleeping with food. (buddum bum CHI).  Get it? Because I love food so much but I can't sleep with it because it's food. Ya know...food?

This music is sucking the funny out of me. SUCKING IT RIGHT OUT.
Apparently I like caps. Every time I write in caps you have to think of it as either me screaming, or me really trying to emphasize a point. Deal? DEAL?

If I didn't use caps then I would have to go click the italics button, or ya know...bold. *throws up*. Ugh. It's just too awful!

I'm rambling. I'm rambling and I know it. Stop it Jeannie. Stop it now!

I think it's best that this post just end. 

The Arts Festival *hsssss*

Today I volunteered at the Utah Arts Festival. Brenda and I decided to be good people and give a little back. Ya know? Share the love. Spread good feelings. Make people happy. Offer freedom of speech. Don't judge. Slap people's butts....woah. Sorry.

So we get there at about 6:45 pm. Our shift starts at 7:00. Everything is going well. They give us a free shirt, some snacks, we watch a little dancing. Then, all of a sudden, we are taken to the 7th layer of HELL.

We show up at the soda truck we are working in. We're in good spirits, ready to volunteer the shiz outta that place when the girls we are subbing in for hand us the soda cups, and sprint out as fast as you can leaving in their wake merely the words "have fun" in the most sarcastic tone you almost wanted to tell their mothers.

Brenda and I stayed strong. We began filling cups. Little did we know, filling a standard size cup full of soda would be a process I will never forget.

It pretty much went like this:
Dr. Pepper: Overrall pretty good to fill up. The fizz goes down at a semi-fast pace, only taking about 2 or 3 minutes to fill an entire cup. Not bad.

Sprite: The best by far. No more than a minute was used to fill up cups of Sprite. Although, what they don't tell you is that if you want to fill up a cup of Sprite, you will be drenched in Sprite the rest of the day. It exploded every chance it got. Soda flew everywhere. I had to warn the customers and say things like, "This is the splash zone, beware" or, "This is going to explode in 5. 4. 3. *explodes*". It's still in my hair.

Coke: Towards the end it moved pretty fast. I could fill up two at the same time by filling one up, letting it sit so the fizz went down while I filled up another. Then by the time I filled up that one, the fizz on the first would be down...and so on and so forth. A process that I mastered by the end.

Diet Coke: HOLY MOTHER OF HELL THIS DRINK TOOK 10 MINUTES TO FILL UP AND ALL THE COSTUMERS HATED US. As soon as I asked them how I could help them and they would say "could I have a diet coke please?" Fear would fill my eyes. Fear would fill my soul. I became fear.

At one point, we named ourselves the "interactive soda stand", because we would ask the costumers to put their finger in the soda to make the fizz go down faster. Some would be creeped out and look at us weird, others played along and giggled all the while.

The scariest though is when I would forget which drink was in which hand. Wait wait. Was the Diet Coke in my left and or my right. Or was that a coke? Shoot! Did I mix them. Oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh. "Here's your diet coke ma'am." *she takes a sip*
"This doesn't taste like diet"
Damnit.

All in all, I actually enjoyed my time. It was terrible and I'm covered in flat soda that we had to start giving refunds for, but whatta day. I helped the community. I'm a good person. Wow.

I'll probably volunteer next year. Come visit me! Or don't...whatever. I mean. It's not like I care that much.

Oh and p.s. I REALLY need this shirt. Like. Super crazy bad. Oh what's that? My birthday is in a month? Hmm. So kind of you to consider buying this for me!

Is this ever going to feel right in my mouth?

WOAHWOAHWOAHWOAH.

You're really sick did you know that? Gosh. I just can't get over how disgusting you are. What my title is talking about is my RETAINER you pervert. Wow. I almost want you to stop reading my blog, but then I remember there's like 4 of you and then I think, no no. Please stay. I beg of you. Please! I'm sorry for all my last remarks. Oh gosh! Please! Please stay! INEEDYOU.

I got a retainer. I can't stop messing with it. It's rubbing my tongue absolutely raw. Plus it makes my teeth uber sore. AND on top of that! I have to take it out while I eat. That's fine and all, but this retainer is practically cock blocking food from my mouth.

"Freaking retainer. Who needs you?! Huh?" *shift camera angle in mirror*
"Shh shh. It's going to be alright." *shift back*
"How do you know?" *shift*
"Everything is going to be just fine Jeannie." *shift*
"You don't know me! You don't know my life! It's not that easy!" *shift*
"I know you better than you think I do." *shift back. Jeannie with a look of shock on her face*
"Don't say that. Don't you say that to me!" *shift back to other Jeannie with un-dialated pupils*
*in eery voice* "We wants it. We wants the retainer." *shift*
*scared* "No. No we must'nt. It hurts us!" *shifts*
"It's a tricksy retainer. We must wear it. We must!"
"No. No. Leave now and never come back!"
"What did you say?"
"Leave now and NEVER COME BACK!"

No but really. I do have to wear it. My teeth are wack son. Anywho. I gotta give a talk in church tomorrow. Geez. Writing it has been like writing a paper all over again. Write a sentence, check facebook (my own personal devil of a creation).

This is worst. PLUS. All my family is gonna be there. Aunt, Uncle, cousins, cousin-in-law, cousin-in-law's sister. Ya know. The ushe.

Ah well. This is life. This is it right here. You see it? You see it right in front of your face?!

I think I'm kind of full of angst and what not tonight. I'll spare you the rest of my inner thoughts.
 "HELP ME! I NEED HELP!"
"Shut up you inner thought! Stay inner!"

Sorry about that. Enjoy life and things!

I figured it out!

On the days I fail at thinking of good post ideas, I'm just going to make you learn about me. Yup. You're already here, you might as well just stay. COMEON.

I know I know. These are the worst posts, but if you stick around and try out what I give you, I think you'll really enjoy them.

One: Okay, I sure love podcasty type things. But I'm really only a fan of the ones that make me laugh and are really super duper interesting. I don't like political ones, I don't care for them one bit. Judge me all you like you fiends! I just don't.
 Stay with me. 

Two: I've nailed it down. I've chosen a winner. It's been a hard journey, many competitors, lots to think about, but I've got it!
My favorite comedian is (drumroll)......Mike Birbiglia!

So there. Now. I want you to experience a two in one situation we've got going on here.
I dare you to listen. You heard me! DARE.

 The Moth is brilliant, Mike Birbiglia is brilliant. What could possibly go wrong?

AH LIGHTENING!
(lame joke)
Just listen! You don't even have to be looking directly at this page. You could be elsewhere. Cleaning your room, falling asleep, hiding a body. That's the beauty of podcasts! Just words, no images. Go crazy!
   

So that's the new generation. I'm alright with that.

I babysat again this morning and Molly kills me every time. She really does! For example, today we just sat on the swings and talked for 2 hours or so. At one point I asked her what she wants to be when she grows up...*pause*

Backround. Last night Anne and I were talking about our futures and what we want to be when we grow up, how we'll get there, blah blabhblahblah. I asked her, do you want to be a fireman? She said, Jeannie I'm not a child. Then I got curious. "Is that a wanted profession anymore? Do children still want to be fire fighters?"

rewrewerewrewrew (rewinding sounds). At one point I asked her what she wants to be when she grows up. She gave me three answers. A Firefighter, a Doctor, and, naturally, a Princess. I told her to be all three. She agreed with me.

We continued talking, and we both agreed we would send letters to each other when I go off to college. I think sometimes I forget she's four. Then I asked her if she's lost any teeth yet (after I tried to explain to her what I looked like when I got my wisdom teeth out. "I looked like this *puffed out my cheeks*" "Let's see who can hold their breathe the longest!" "Okay Molly.") Needless to say, she was hardly interested. BUT, after I asked her she said no she hadn't lost any teeth.
"You excited to lose your teeth?"
"No."
"Well why not?"
"Because then you turn grown up and not a kid and it's so fun being a kid."

I was freaking blown away! I'll tell you this Molly, you're in luck, losing teeth is the least of your growing up worries, but whatta girl. After that I told her she was very deep, "what does that mean?" Okay okay, knowledgeable "what does that mean?" Okay that one was my bad. Very wise "huh?" You have a good mind, kid.

But you can't forget the fact she said she's growing taller. Apparently she's almost as tall has her mom.
"I go till right up under her boobies."

That's where I lost it. 

Lemmetellya

Yesterday I drove up to Logan by myself. It was all nice and good. I listened to Steve Martin's book on tape and it was extremely relaxing and also dangerous cuz I think I almost fell asleep. Regardless, it was going well, until I realized I needed to eat dinner.

Now, for some reason, I cannot eat food in front of people that I don't really know very well. (You guessed it! Dating is going to be a breeze for this girl). Who knows why. I sure don't. Especially if they don't have food to eat as well. Psh. Game over at that point. They'd just be watching me as I slowly brought my saliva-inducing, amazingly appetizing food item to the gaping hole in my head I call a mouth, and it's just so crazy uncomfortable I can't even put it into words.

So I got up to Logan and decided to stop for a nice dinner. I pulled over at a Subway, because that sounded fantastic. But then I came to the realization, I was alone and I didn't have anywhere to go to eat it. Not my car, that's really just sad, but not with the people I was going to be with, because they didn't have food and I didn't know them well enough to shove my face into a sandwich while they just stood by and watch. No thanks 'ol buddy 'ol pal. I'll go ahead and take a minor pass on that bad boy.

I decided the best thing I could do was to just eat in the Subway, but take a book in there with me. That's a thing that's done constantly. A nice night on the town to get a little further in your book and enjoy your alone time.

Perfect plan! I'd done it. I'd beat the system and avoided awkward eating situations. Yet, the only book I had in my car was my Spanish version of Like water for chocolate. Como Agua para Chocolate. So I just spent the whole time pretending to read a book I barely even read the first time around, and ate my sandwich in silence.

Now that I'm writing it...it's not as excitingly funny as I once imagined it to be. Nevertheless. People did look at me differently. But I think it was because I was impressing them with the fact that I was reading a novel IN SPANISH. (Sike. I don't speak that language, I only passed that class because I made food for it. Whatcha!)

I thought it was kind of silly. Now, because I promised. On behalf of my most dedicated reader, I have to let the world know, that Alexis Bree Selman beat me, Jeannie Marie Woller, at Egyptian Rat Screw. A feat that has only been done by 1 or 2 before her.

YOU HAPPY NOW SMELLY? ARE YOU?

Well that's it. This post is over. Go away. (But come back iloveyou)

And now for...

This music is so very enjoyable. But but but but. Definitely watch the music video. It's one of my favorites. AND it's directed by Drew Barrymore! Hay.

*Kristen Wiig as Drew Barrymore* "If I had a son, I would name him kskssskssksss"

I cried. I really did.

*throws up*

All I've had to eat today has been cupcakes.

THAT'S IT.

This day has been going on for 6 hours and 10 minutes and all I've are damn cupcakes!
Pardon the swearing, but my insides are going to explode.

Multiple ones. Different colors. Different flavors. Some fruity, some sweet, some more rich, others kind of heavy.

I'm getting heavy, geez.

Freaking Happy Birthday Annie! (but really, 21 years, awesome!)

PLUS. Eating solid food still hurts, really really bad. But I can't stop! No. No I simply can not. No wisdom teeth surgery can pull me away from my true love. *coughfoodcoughcough*

Let me go die now.

It's the day of Father's

Father's Day has arrived!

My family is really bad at celebrating stuff. We're pretty lax on the whole, "It's a day to give you gifts and treat you differently!" We're pretty much along the lines of "Hey Happy (fill in blank). Now MOVE".

I don't know why they would need to move, just the rush of emotions I guess.

I love it though. We're not very emotionally-showy, but it works. The best are family dinners. They're always really entertaining. Jamie Duke used to love coming over for dinner, because it was a two-in-one special. Dinner AND crazy antics. Dinner Theater, if you would. Comedy improv from the chopping block of New York City! Er whatever.

One year for Christmas, my sister gave my brother Chris a nurf gun. I already had two, so she didn't feel the need to feed the warrior in me, and Chris gave Michael a double edged sword that disconnects in the middle (turns out it is surprisingly durable, the 18 year old boys in my grade proved that to be true).

So one night, a couple days after Christmas, the whole family was home and around the table for a nice Woller-style dinner, which naturally means...those darn antics! There was a heated discussion about something or another, and before my mom could say her famous "you weren't raised in a barn" words, there was a clearly difined standoff around the kitchen table.

My gun pointed at Annie, Annie's gun (mine really) at Michael, Michael's disconnecting swords thrashing about (as his defense mechanism tends to do) around his head, and Chris' gun pointing towards me. A full-out battle to the death ensued right then and there.

Nurf bullets littered the plates full of steamed peas, pillberry rolls, and crock-pot chicken, the most famous meal in the Woller household. Welts appeared instantly on the rest of the siblings as Michael Phillip continued to flail all his limbs, as if he were some sort of beached octopus making the realization he was beached.

Casualties left and right as Ma and Pop failed to remove themselves from the line of. Those poor, helpless souls.
At one point during battle, Chris went as far as to dip his amunition into Ketchup, presenting a false look of blood. He then proceeded to shoot at Michael. The flailing boy ducked just in time, but there is still a stain on the basement door showing the puncture wound. The bullet just stuck to the door. It didn't budge.

In the end I think we all died a couple of times. But it was fun dying. Ya know the kind where we have to close each other's eyes?

I could go into more detail, but the whole point of this post is just that I'd like to thank my Padre for letting this all go down. For always laughing when the kids get really annoying, as we tend to do. Who knows. Maybe he secretly hates it and he's merely laughing to keep from crying. That's a thing right?

Ah well. Happiest Father's day to all. And if your father is not with you at the present moment, for whatever reason, or if you do not have a father, I still hope today was a wonderful day for all! All days should be like that, ya know, wonderful.

If it wasn't, here's a trailer for something that I'm utterly stoked for (maybe unhealthy, but who cares)

I want to give you some music. Take it or leave it. (Take it. Take it!)

Ya know, you want to know me right? (well maybe not.)
But in order to do so you gots ta get ta know the music I enjoy. So please please. Listen up! One and all! Let me introduce to you, these guys!

Oh wait. Sorry, what's that? You want more? Shh. Shh.. Be still my followers. Your wish is my command. *crosses arms and nods*

So I know this group is all on the radio and are pretty mainstream now (gag, ammi right?) Anywho. Their other stuff is super fantastic. Put your hands together for...this group!

This is just the stuff that was close on my pandora. Maybe someday I'll show you all my inner thoughts and wisdom.

Freaking Facebook.

Wanna know what's the worst ever?

Facebook.

Facebook is like a fridge. It's one of those things that you get really excited to check. You open up the door to see if there's anything to eat, but then there's not. You have to reluctantly accept that fact, lower your head, and return to watching tv, or reading, or shaving, or whatever

But then, that feeling comes up again. That one feeling you can't shake. You know the one? The "wait, wait. There's gotta be something new now! It's been like 5 minutes! I think I'll just check again for safe measure."

So you walk all the way back to the fridge, you open it up again and you are equally as disappointed as the first time you opened it up.

I take it back! You are WAYYY more disappointed, because you were so extremely hopeful that maybe, just maybe, somebody restocked the capri suns or they replaced the pickle jar that you left in there when you decided "maybe I'll drink the juice later"...but you won't. You just won't.

Even though you were in sight of the fridge the whole time! You would've seen somebody make a move toward it. But you just want to believe that there is something greater at work here. That someone wants your hunger to be satiated. You want to believe so bad.

But you have to learn the hard way that you can't believe. You simply can't, because you'll be unjustly upset and dissapointed every. single. time.

Just like facebook. That thing eats my soul.

Drugs are a nice thing.

Drugs stop the pain and that is a lot nicer than anyone who brings you food. Well. It's a close call, but as of right this second...drugs are extremely nice.

They didn't put me all the way under with getting me wisdom teeth pulled. Is that normal? I was awake the entire time. It was like when you're going on a car trip and your practically asleep in the back seat, but you can still hear your parents talking. You don't know what their saying, ya you really don't. But you can hear them.

That was me. Except periodically the doctor would, I swear he was yelling, tell me to open my mouth. So I would. Then I'd hear "wider!". So I would...then I'd hear. "Wider!"...so I tried so hard to get my mouth wider, And finally he said to his helping person "ya we gotta get the mouth-pryer-opening thingy when they start falling asleep like this." (and yes, I'm pretty sure those are doctor words)

And I was thinking. This is not a give and take surgery! I shouldn't even have to help you! I should be sleeping, because all I want to do is wake up and see butterflies attacking zombies that are wearing 1920's clothings! (woah..where did I jump to?).

But I guess I was loopy once, because the only things that are really fuzzy for me is the ride home, and then when Lindsay and Aspen came to visit. Sorry. But I really don't remember much of that. I wish I did. It seems like it would be fun.

But I'm not mad at the doctor. In fact! He's a great man and is a father of a great friend! So all is well, I just wish I got to experience the whole "I'm on drugs, film me without my knowledge and laugh at me for generations" experience. Everyone on he internet got to! Well bother.

SCRATCH THAT.
Apparently I found some gems that I filmed on photobooth right after surgery. Too bad I can not understand a word I am saying because of the gauze in my mouth.  Lameness of the worldddddddd!


I will share the two text messages I sent after the surgery.

One.

Becki: "Did you get ahold of Kylie about pics? I still need hers, Audrey, Felis, Peterson :) Can you bug them for me please :):)"

Me: "My when teerhy crewmlyw. can you tell gidd to my it?

So that was fun. Needless to say she was terribly confused. But I though I was pretty straightforward!
Translation: My wisdom teeth just came out. Can you tell Gibb to do it?


Then the second.

Lindsay: Did you make it? How's your face?

Me: "you can commo murd if you'd kli"

Lindsay got there though! She understood. I'm so proud. I knew she would. That's practically the language she speaks.
Translation: You can come over if you'd like.

I don't remember when, but Aspen took this beaut of me. Then I woke up to find it as my screensaver, AND I woke up have had texted her. It was pretty coherent though so Props for me.

Garsh. I'm a looker.

I'm learning it! I really am!

I can now count to tin in Australian. Sorry. Sorry. Ten.

Scottish and Irish are also super fun.

But don't worry folks, I've realized you reading about my attempts to learn accents is not so much fun, or funny. I'm working on that. I just kind of now understand that this blog is not a journal. The readers, of which I have some of those, do not wish to know that "today I ate a little, then took a nap"

NOBODY CARES JEANNIE.

So from here on out, I will be attempting to relay funny, sad, awkward type stories. Whatever comes I'll let you know. My only thing is that I'm running out of stories. I've told everyone all my stories! Now people just roll their eyes when I speak and they mutter "weknow". It's hurtful, but I persevere. I have no choice.


Stay with me friends, things have only just begun!

Here's my favorite picture right now. We're all so old. Look at em grow.
 Enjoy!

The name's Jeannie. Jeannie Gump

I earned some hard core respect for Forrest Gump last night. Let me tell ya why.

It was 9:00 at night, I was sitting inside watching Netflix and it hit me. It's a wonderful day outside, I think I'll go for a nice walk.
I like walking so it seemed like the perfect idea. As it turns out it, my walk started out more like a run. In fact, it most definitely was a run. It was wonderful to say the least! I jogged up to Waterford and then I figured, I've come this far, why not keep going?

Naturally, my jogged turned into a walk. In case you didn't know, walking is easier, plus I can breathe more that way.  I like breathing.

So I got to 13th and thought, well let's see how far I can go. Maybe I'll make it to Draper.

Oh boy did I make it to Draper.
I walked all along 13th. Just kept going. About where you turn to go to Alta I realized, I'm crazy tired, this was probably a bad idea, plus! I don't eve know where I'm going!

But I just kept going. I got all pensive, which was weird and kind of annoying, yet it was nice all the same. I got to the hill right before Draper parkway, and I decided to run again. It felt nice, I think I almost got hit a few times, but hey, YOLO right? (I regretted that immediately).

Once I hit DP I just thought to myself, I got through all of Sandy, why not make it through Draper? I really infiltrated the mind of Forrest Gump here, I'm not joking. It made sense! Why did I need to stop? The answer was, I just didn't! So I kept going.

I ran by Draper Park. When I had to pee, I went. But I really did. Draper Park has nice grass, and it's dark enough. Waaacha.

I decided I was going to go straight till I could go straight no more. At one point, I decided to run again. Doing so made me have this out of body revelation of...HOLY FREAK MY BODY HURTS.
I haven't done anything like that ever!

I got to the draper bridge where you can either turn left or right to go to the Temple. I called my sister to come pick me up, and I waited.

I think sometimes I go clinically insane. No joke! I was for a bit while I was walking, I totally was before I decided to go on this adventure. I hope it's not hazardous to ya know, me living and all.

But it was a good adventure to have. I thought A LOT. More than I have in long time. There was even this part where I could only hear my shoes on the pavement and I though to myself, "hay! I think I'm suppose to have some real world epiphany here realizing that I am much smaller and or bigger than the world really let's on."

Who knows! I'm glad I did it. I don't think I'll do it again though, unless a friend joined, or even a canine companion. Either way, at the end I had a telepathic connection with Forrest and he put these words into my mouth "I'm tired and I think I"ll go home now."

I got home at about 11:45. A night well spent if you ask me. I can now successfully say I've walked through two cities. I mean. That's something to cross off a bucket list if I ever saw one.

I just wanted an adventure.
Well kids. I guess sometimes you just have to make them for yourself.

Let the Hobbies begin!

I've done it! I've figured out my hobby for the summer!

Naturally it pays no amount in money. But hay, I'll get paid in wisdom and experience *rolls eyes*

I'm gonna teach myself accents and impressions. I have to. I simply must. If my future involves some sort of comedicness then I gotta, right?

I've been searching "how to" videos for the past hour. I've figured out some Irish, but I'm bad. I'm real bad folks.

It'll keep me busy during the time I'm not alone making up music videos in my room. I may have recorded them on the photobooth. Only time will tell.

It's gonna be a long summer. But that's what I want! Let's drag this out as much as we can, deal?

I asked Michael if he wanted to play Frisbee with me. He said no. Well, after I asked he more stayed silent and slowly shut the door.  He "technically" didn't say the actual word "no". It was like the slow way of taking off a band-aid.

The weather is nice. I found an old skateboard. Maybe I'll bring Punk Jeannie back into my life.
Who's that you ask? She's a boy-girl who wears button up shirts over t-shirt shirts.

Or maybe I'll go walk that empty street. Ya know? On the boulevard of broken dreams. I think it's where the city sleeps? And I walk a...

Hold your horses. Hold your horses! *neighhhhhhh*......................................... (that was lame)
I think somebody's already done that. It sounds familiar. Who's already done that? MY BRAIN.

Ah well. Here's a picture!

They're the best of all.





**UPDATE
I'm making strides! Spending my time locked away learning things. Hmm. I thought I'd finished with that. NEVER.
What am I laughing at you ask (or is that screaming)? My solidarity...

Tomorrow Really Starts It. Also I might be pregnant?

Oh sorry. Tomorrow really starts summer. Summer. Right. That's weird. SUMMER. It's like some sort of a season. Or a name. Maybe even a memory.

Old man: "Ya I remember summer"
.........SEE. Memory!

This is gonna be a rambly post I can feel it in the fibers of my teeth bones. (teeth are bones, yes?). It's late, I haven't posted in 2 days. WHAAAAA? Oh no. The caps are starting. Get ready folks.

I'll tell you this quick road trip story and then off with her head! No no no no. Wayyyy to dramatic for my taste. Just off to slumber.
Carrying on.
INT. CONVENIENT STORE CHECKOUT LINE - DAY

Jeannie and Vicki are waiting in line holding a bag of chips and conversing at a medium volume. There is a small blonde girl in front of them as well as the chasier, both are semi-evesdropping.


Jeannie
I still can't picture Gabe as a mama. It's weird. Or Megan! I mean, she looks like she's our age! No, that can't be right.

Convenient store clerk (jokingly)
You're all too young to have kids.

Jeannie
Vicki. I'm pregnant.

Vicki
Don't you even say something like that to me.

Jeannie
What if I really was though!

Clerk (still semi-joking)

Don't get pregnant. Ever.

 Jeannie
DANG! I just missed the cut off for MTV!

Girl in front on Jeannie giggles and pays for her food.

Clerk
Ya know. I was 14 when I got pregnant.

Blonde girl
Should've called MTV.

AWKWARD FOR EVERYONE INVOLVED.

END SCENE

So Vicki and I had to make the situation better. We asked her about her daughter, Judith, who's now fourteen herself, (I'm a terrible person because I was tempted to ask if she was pregnant. Note to the world. Don't do that). We talked about how she's gonna drive soon. Then Vicki and I payed, rounded the corner to where Jasmin could no longer see us, and booked it away trying to leave any scrap of unwanted, awkward conversation in our dust. 

This movie script layout may not have been the best way to relay the story to ALL my eager readers, but might as well get the practice in. It was funny and crazy weird and we just wanted to eat our chips and never talk to people again.

Although you should always talk to people. It makes for interesting stories.
Word.

Check that off the bucket list.

The mystery tour was cra to the Z. But the best part about it all was...I got Hypnotized!

Who thought that day would come? Not this girl *tumbs pointing toward my body*. I don't remember much of it, which is weird and I didn't think was possible. Elliot video taped it. That genius of a boy.

COOL.

There was also a photobooth at Laser tag that was free. I seriously got addicted to that thing. I might have a little less than ONE MILLION PICTURES.

No. That's being dramatic.

So now I must talk about soccer team. I have a tournament in Denver that I leave for in 2 and half hours. It's my last one with my team. So saying goodbye to Waterford was sad, but it was more like a "oh Waterford, you've been so good to me" type of goodbye, with also a feeling of "Peace fool!".

But my team is different. They are family to me. When we say goodbye and all go to separate colleges, it will be like splitting my soul into 14 pieces. That's more horcruxes than even Voldemort! So you see the type of danger I'm dealing with here.

I won't go on about it, because then I'll get too emotional and my words will probably end up looking like this. "Seehowannoyingthisiswheredoesonewordstopandthenextbegin?!" Because that's how I'll be talking in my head.

I really do just love them so much. They're family. And not like the weird great-aunt who comments on your facebook pictures saying "Looks like you're having fun. Send love to the family for me. Aunt Matilda". Nope. These girls are my sisters. They'll proabably all be bridesmaids at my wedding. Let's face it.

The Synopsis.

So I'll go ahead and blog something right quick.

GRADUATED SUCKAS.

Yet seeing as we're pretty much the last one's to be, it's less potent while rubbing it in people's faces.
"Ya! I graduated! Eat it world I'm done with high school forever! Ha hahahahahahahaha!"
Kid on street corner.
"We graduated last week."
"Shut up! Don't ruin this for me! Just bow down to me!....please?"

Well that didn't exactly happen. But it may as well have. Regardless. I'm weirded out. Graduation was amazing though. Hannah killed her speech. My grandpa even said..."that was the best speaker I've seen in years". I'm taking that he meant the best speaker in any situation, because that's what Hannah was.

I won an award. That was cool. It was some crazy, crystal candy dish. I'll put all my fanciest candies in it. *British accents* Would you like a Jordan Almond with diamonds laced in the chocolate? Well just grab one from the crystal!
 Perfect.

Wes and I chest bumped like bosses as we were doing the regression line (nope, that's something in stats). As we were doing the senior-walking-off-stage-thingy. It was the talk. Of. The. TOWN. Oh baby.

I went to lunch with my family and my grandparents got me a frisbee for my graduation gift. It was honestly the best gift I could've asked for! Then I went and threw it with Lindsay for an hour. That was the best thing ever in this whole entire world.

So far so good. I feel weird and really the only thing that's freaking me out is that I won't be back on that quad, sitting in the sun, eating lunch ever again. That's what I'm going to miss most. How that quad brings everyone together. It may be lame. Maybe it's just what I'm thinking about right now.

 Either way. Waterford. It's been a fantastic 11 years. Truly, it has. Utah State. I'll see ya in 2 months!

Here's one of my favorites of the day (so far)

I feel like there will be a post soon with all my fav grad pics. (ughhhh. Shortening words is awful, but I can't stop!)

I'm off to the all night Mystery tour! Where we stop, nobody knows! Except some parents....they know.

And So it Begins

Tomorrow really sort of does begin the first day of the rest of my life.

I know that's uber cliche...but it's somewhat truthful isn't it? I mean. The chapter of high school is over. Done. Finito and all that jazz. I move away. Away from my friends, family, really the only life I know. I'll say it, I really will, I'm scared.

There. Now my biggest secret is out! Well I mean, I have more but they are not for public eyes. STOP PRYING.

Fine. Fine. You've worn me down with your blank stare at my blog.

I'll tell you one deep dark secret. One time I walked in on my grandma when she was fresh out of the  shower. I don't want that image anymore! I must give it to you. She's older so, ya know, a bit more wrinkly and saggy and what not. So for you to have an image like this just think of someone you know that's pretty old. You've got them in your head? Their face? Everything? Okay then.

BAM. NAKED.

*shivers* Ohhhhh.

Now I'll let you end with this image.

I'm not sure who he is, but he's beautiful.

Happy 12 hours till graduation!

I hurt so bad.

I'm trying to post everyday. So although technically it's Wednesday, I have yet to go to bed, so this counts as my Tuesday post. LOGIC.

However, it will be short because I'm sleepy and tomorrow is graduation run-through and then apparently I will be on the news. *hair flip*

I'll just tell this story about something that shouldn't have hurt my feelings, but it somewhat did and I'm highly embarressed about it, so I thought. Hay! Blog timmmmeeeee!

Today I was babysitting (yes, again. Getting that cash, son) and I was washing my hands and singing some Beatles song, I can't remember which. Hokay. So I'm fully aware I'm not a good singer. Not even decent, but normally it makes people kind of laugh and then my job is done.

So I was singing and Molly (the 4 year old) literally covered her ears and ran out of the room. So then I tracked her down to see what was wrong, because obviously it wasn't my singing, nobody has had that reaction to it...

Oh, but she did. She definitely did.

She started tearing up! She told me to never ever do that again. I offered to sing Twinkle Twinkle for her. But no. She just really wanted me to stop.

I was almost as hurt as that one time I took a really great picture of my friends. I wasn't in it so, naturally, that night while I was looking at it I started crying. (I was emotional that day, don't judge me!)

 ISN'T IT WONDERFUL?! Do you realize why I started crying? (Once again. Emotional day people)

So sleep well my 2 followers. (Shoutout: Hey Kyle and Aspen!)

That "Oh God" Moment

Wow that title sounds kind of dirty. Move away from the gutter folks! And into the mind of one terrified teenager.

Yesterday I graduated from Seminary. I know. I can now attend my dream school...BYU *gags*. Sorry. that was rude. I digress. So halfway through the "it's not gonna be too long before the girls start getting married, boys you wait till after your mission" speech, I had a mini panic attack.

I was graduating from something that I didn't even care much about, but I panicked because it was over. OVER. No more seminary ever. Don't get me wrong, I'm ecstatic, but I freaked out a little bit. Something that I'd been doing for so long was, with a few damp handshakes and forced congratulations, done. Forever. Oh God.

If I freaked out over SEMINARY graduation, what the hell am I gonna do during my actual graduation?! More than a decade at Waterford. I don't wanna grow up. Not just yet.

Anxiety setting itself to full blast toward Jeannie's mind and all her body!  What am I gonna do?



Also. I then made the decision to chop off all my hair. Probably not wise. It's weird. I'm rethinking it, which is pointless because it's done.

Second also. My house is the earth version of a wanna be Hell. It's freaking hot man!

This post was less funny and more angsty then I intended. Next time will funny be.

I leave you with two things.
One: I was babysitting, and my 4 year old girl thought that pollen fluffs were parts of clouds. I loved her for that comment. Which was very good considering I had no sleep the night before and she was so very full of energy...

Two: This is a picture of sophomore prom. For this, I also got a short, impromptu, bad-decision haircut. Those freaking bangs. Ah well. Memorable none the less!

I'd like to see you try...

          To do something this crazy awesome. 

So Lexe Selman, a girl who has played on my soccer team for 8 years, was diagnosed with AML, a rare form of Leukemia, less than two months ago.  She just finished her first round of Chemo and is about to start her second. She's been out of the hospital for 5 days now, she starts her second round on Wednesday.

We had a tournament this weekend and she tagged along, getting permission to play in exactly 1 minute at the start of the game.

Leave it to Selman to do the ridiculous. Naturally, after not touching a soccer ball for 5 weeks, most people would look like Sebastien in "She's the Man". But Selman's Selman. So her natural is scoring in the one minute she gets to play.

(go to :55 for the game start) Please pass this around so everyone can see this kick-ass girl.

                                        

Blogs.

Webster's dictionary says something about them that describes what they represent. At least I'm pretty sure it does. Idunno.

I need a hobby. And not a hobby that includes going into one of those creativity stores. They give me bumps on skin and make me remember that I'm not artistic at all.

Freaking art. I always overcompensate for no reason. I'll be going along and my art will be looking crazy awesome, and I'll be feeling like I could conquer the world with my art. Then. BANG BOOM. I make one miniscule, nagging mistake. I think to myself..."Oh geez. That's not great. Well this picture of a child catching a butterfly in budding roses doesn't look too bad, cept for that one unintended freckle on her face, but maybe if I add a splash of sparkles and then smear fresh blood over the child's hands it will look better."

And before I know it, everything is all bad. Although, I could probably sell it with some deep, unintentional meaning.

"Well, you see Mr. Rich-Guy. The child represents innocence and the butterfly represents the new expectations that she has to grasp onto as she blooms into adulthood, hence the budding flowers in the backround. Now as for the sparkles, those represent the fact that her life right now is all a dream. A daze. One day she will have to stop chasing this magnificent butterfly and actually grow up. But my favorite part is the fresh blood. Clearly it stands out with the meaning that the child just killed her family and realizes that she has to grow up faster then other children her age. She has to take full responsibility the family's pet dog left behind.  Now the child is all that dog has in the world."

I'll make a fortune!

Who knows.

Give me time. I'll get the hang of this. Until then. Enjoy this picture! It's one of my favorites.