Category Archives: School

The Conjugator… I’ll Be Back…

It’s at this point in my life where I’d like to hunt down the inventor of the Spanish language and give he/she a good dressing down… and I don’t mean for prom!  Also, does anyone, preferrably someone who speaks Spanish fairly fluently (I know there are a handful of you reading this), who would be interested in trading brains for approximately a year and a half?  I think that should be sufficient to get me through the next 2-1/2 semesters of my Spanish learning… after I get back from the dress hunting shindig, I mean.

Everything seems to move so dang fast in this class.  I don’t remember moving this fast in high school Spanish… and I took like 85 years of Spanish in Jr. high and high school.  My brain is a lot older than it used to be and currently is so full of English words, it’s hard to cram the Spanish words into the crevices.  Translation:  I can’t remember a dang thing!  I might be a hopeless case.  I hate pronouns… I hate verbs… and I really hate conjugation… particularly conjugating imperfect and preterite tenses!  What the!?!?  Those tenses mean the same dang thing in English, Spanish inventor… get with the times!   I pretty much just have to guess between the two on every test because my translation skillz are horrid at best… 50/50 chance I’ll get it right and so far my running score is 1 right, 85,000 wrong.  Good odds, Vegas-ites… who wants to buy Whitney a lotto ticket!?

Update on the weird class members… donut box/85-ounce soda girl has dropped out, leaving me by my lonesome in the Logan classroom (along with the professor and an aide).  Floor boy is still in the class and is still as inappropriate as ever.  I bow to my profesora… along with dealing with the deer in the headlights look I give her on a weekly basis for the entire 3-hour class, she is also mastering the art of dealing with floor boy’s weird outbursts and interjections… like the time a few weeks back when he blurted out that there was no way he’d be able to take the test before the deadline because he just bought some new video game (insert the name I can’t remember here) and he was too busy to study.  Then, he promptly got out of his chair and left the classroom, only to waltz back in half an hour later eating an entire regular-sized bag of Doritos.  Let me tell you… you ain’t lived until you’ve practiced Spanish with someone who was too busy licking the cheese off his fingers to recall which activity we were on.  I had to work so hard not to tell him to go wash his hands before he touched his book, that I didn’t learn a dang thing that night.  Oh the horror!

Back to this Spanish language inventor… take some notes from the inventor of pig latin next time you invent a language.  Also, you owe me 80000000 brain cells and a brain eraser… I’m never going to get that Doritos picture out of my head otherwise.

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Back To Drool…

Snooooorrrrreeee…  I really don’t have anything to blather on about.  Spring (BWAHAHAHAHAHAH) semester at USU started this past Wednesday… because it’s fashionable to start in the middle of the week these days.  I’m taking a 2nd Spanish course and a sociology class.  So far, my motivation to want to read textbooks, study, and do assignments was left back in 1985… I was greatly motivated in 1985… that was a good year for first graders!

I went to my Spanish class on Thursday after not having cracked a Spanish study session for at least 3-1/2 weeks and basically it was like someone took one of them old geezer-fashioned chalkboard erasers and wiped out my memory bank… and let’s face it… the rest of the brain parts as well.  I sat there for the whole three-hour class drooling out my mouth hole whilst straining to remember the words.  I did remember muy estupida… so used that phrase often.  I might fit right in with the class because so far, the class (which is broadcast to several different cities throughout Utah joining in on the conversation via TV screens) is much smaller than it was last semester, but it’s also a lot weirder.  There’s me… that makes anything weird.  There’s some kid who took to lying on the ground in the middle of the class discussion and then chiming in every 5 minutes with the most bizarre questions/requests.  One of his requests was that the profesora not mark him down for lying on the ground because technically he’s still inside the classroom, but his back hurts so this is beneficial for him.  I thought about bringing my sleeping bag next week… might as well catch a few Zzzzzs.  Another of his bizarre requests… when taking proctored exams for the class, he is going to need his own separate special room without any people in it so that he can talk to himself outloud and/or lie on the ground at varying intervals.  I wonder if he’s single.

There was also the girl who brought in a 72-oz soda and a box of a dozen donuts, which she kept munching on throughout the class.  She happened to be directly in my same classroom… GO CHEWING NOISES!   I’ve never understood people who eat whole meals during a class.  It’s weird…  Granted, the class is 3 hours long, but if Whitney can lay off the booze for those 3 hours, you can leave your donut box in the car.

One chic left 10 minutes after the class started… pretty sure she got scared off by Weirdville and we will never see her face grace this classroom again.

Oh the lengths I go to to geezer my way through school.  Somebody send me a smart robot who speaks Spanish and knows sociology.  Whitney needs to get back to her crafting corner!

Oh hi January inversion central!  PAR-TAY!  These pictures are for former Cache Valleyans to realize what they’re missing by moving away.  You are welcome!

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Whitney Overly and Unecessarily Whelmed

You know how I get all uptight over pretty much everything out of the norm… and possibly norma… I’ll ask.  It’s like one of my least favorite pastimes… ye ole stick up the patookus chic!  Mostly I just sit around lamenting and don’t get anything worthwhile done and by the time I’m done lamenting it’s time for bed. It’s a very trying pastime wherein sometimes I’ll also watch really lame-wad shows on the Food Network.  Last month it was some show about outrageous gourds… tonight it was some show about outrageous holiday foods.  Apparently I didn’t learn my lesson… or else I was too busy lamenting.

What the helium balloon am I yammering about?  Well, it’s finals week this week and I have this sudden sense of holy crimeny… I have too much homework to get done!  This isn’t new.  There seems to be too much homework every week, but there’s something about the finality of it all that freaks me out.  Like if I do horrid on a test mid-semester… eh… I’ll make up for it as the semester goes on… but if I do horrid on a test during finals week… that’s it.  Wham bam, we be done, Loretta!  Where’s that tiny violin, Merle?  I need to be sawing on it whilst I’m lamenting.  I’m also attempting to put together a 7-page paper on escapism in “The Glass Menagerie” wherein my thesis statement I spent all weekend preparing is 45 kinds of nonsensicalness and at this point… eh… I don’t care!  Tomorrow I wake up, go to work for 7 to 8 hours and then after my paying job, I get to stare at the computer again for another 25 hours reading scholarly articles.  It really is a blessing because I shouldn’t have time to watch the next installment in the series… outrageous chics named Whitney.

I’d also be remiss if I didn’t remember to introduce you all to the newest ceramic reindeer in our collection:  Lucy-Fur the Pink-Nosed CatDeer… had a very wetly nose!

Ceramic Santa was all like, “On Comet, on Ajax, on Windex, and Clorox…”  Those are the best reindeer… said the tightly wound germ-a-phobe chic!

In other news, if you haven’t watched this yet, it’s definitely worth the 2:30 minutes.  A good reminder with all the hustle and bustle that this season brings, what our real reason for celebrating is!

He is the gift…

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Over-Analyzation 1010…

I would just like to point out that for the last 2 hours my brain has been unnecessarily fuming over the lyrics to the song My Funny Valentine.  The ironic part of this fumation is that My Funny Valentine just so happens to be my brain’s go-to singsong whilst in the shower.  I don’t know why this is.  I have never actually sang the song in public.  I don’t even particularly like the song made famous by Frank Sinatra and others about 3 billion years ago when the dinosaurs roamed the Wally World aisles.  It’s an earworm of a song.  And I’m fuming over the lyrics because… how dare he call her looks laughable and unphotographable… who died and made him Fabio but a lot hotter and with less hair?  I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter has never tasted the same, Fabio hair!  I’m really showing my age during this blog post!

I blame my over-analysis of random song lyrics on the fact that my literature class this semester often goes three hours discussing one small phrase in a poem.  Oh by golly… beat my ears in with dumbbells!  I kid you not… a few Tuesdays ago we went 3 hours discussing whether a pebble is considered a rock in this poem that wasn’t even about a dang pebble or a dang rock.  It’s like having to listen to your Great Uncle Ulceritis go on for a billion years about passing a kidney stone.  Well, it got stuck up near the urethra and from there it just sorta set there.  

I think there’s a place for analyzing a person’s words and then there’s NOT a place for over-analyzing a person’s words to death!  Maybe she/he just meant it was a rock… period…  No, it does not represent the darkness of his/her soul or a secret nod to the fact that he/she can’t bake bread products.  It’s just a rock and it happened to be a word in the poem… MOVING ON!  I think it’s safe to say that I will not be a book critic or a urologist in my second lifetime.

In other news… time flies when you’re over-analyzing.  Tomorrow is the day I have to sign up for classes for spring semester that starts in January… spring semester my rear patookus… more like inversion semester.  I’m having trouble deciding on a 2nd class.  I have to take Spanish 1020, but the 2nd one I’m trying to pick one that looks real easy like and my powers of brain psychicness are on vacation with the above-mentioned song analyzation.  Is there a class that condones napping for 3 hours during the actual class time and still acing the test… Sleeping 1010.  Sign me up.

This here is what happens with over analysis… your skiing creepy husband has to carry your head around on a pitchfork.  Stay away from analysis, friends!

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Balloon Head…

I don’t have much concentration space to write a proper post tonight.  My head is like a balloon full of rotted out cottage cheese… take that image to the bank!  Any minute someone is going to come along with a pin… I hope to all Cream O Weber it’s sooner than later!  Walking around with a balloon brain is all sorts of entertainment… like the time I tried to brush my teeth with the hairbrush the other night.  Same idea… different body part.  Or the time my professor thought it would be a good idea to give me a complicated book to read by Tuesday and then tell me to give a 10 minute presentation on my favorite paragraph.  Uhhhh… unless the paragraph be about balloons and cottage cheese, I got nothing, Profesor!   For example, I just had to look up how to spell profesor… turns out that’s not the right way… stupid S’s!

I’m 75% sure it’s a sinus infection/cold, but the other 75% of me thinks it’s a bacterial allergy to sitting in 3-hour classes after sitting at work for 8 hours.  School… turning out cottage cheese brains by the basketfull!  Like for example, if I wasn’t trying to expand my brain by going to school, I wouldn’t have cottage cheese brain today because pea brains can only fit one kernel of cottage cheese inside of them!  I miss my pea brain.  I asked a dude in my Spanish class what he liked about being a girl in Spanish approximately 5 times on Thursday.

Moving on… next question… who’s eating cottage cheese for lunch ever again?  You are welcome!

Isn’t that the cutest?  I passed these little dudes the other afternoon and had to turn around and take a picture!

This is PART of the backyard of one of the home’s in the home show!  I say part because it was just PART of it.  I’m moving in tomorrow.  They won’t ever find me.

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Burrito Chimchanga en el Taco Bello…

There’s a new visitor in my window well of doom and gloom this night.  It seems to be a very PMS-y mouse… or at least one with 8 different personalities.  Right now the personality is the psycho serial killer named Manson as I’m pretty sure he’s eating a hole through my window screen as we speak… and by morning, he’ll have burrowed in through the glass and devoured my left pinky finger.  You don’t eat this body in a day!  It’s meant to be savoured for at least a century and a half!  Pass the bacon!

That aside… and believe you me, I’ve been shrieking every time I hear him rustling the dead leaves and picking at the window screen… how old am I!? We’re going into the 3rd week of fall semester.  I have 2 classes again this semester… another English literature class that meets on Tuesday nights from 5 to 8 and a Spanish class that meets on Thursday nights from 5 to 8.  They both require mucho class participation and basically make me want to vomit on a biweekly basis.  The Spanish class particularly is anxiety ridden.  When I get nervous, I have a hard time remembering words in English let alone a foreign tongue.  

It’s a broadcast course and our Logan classroom is the main classroom where the teacher resides in person.  There are a bajillion television screens throughout the room with people from other cities in Utah.  There’s one in Brigham City, Moab, Ephraim, Tooele, Mount Pleasant, etc.  So, it’s like we in Logan are Jem (she’s truly truly truly outrageous) and all of the other TV screens are the holograms and the misfits (our songs are better).  For most of the class we break into what the teacher calls “pods” (I guess… she teaches the class in Spanish, so basically I just sit there staring at her like a doof-bag while she repeats the same question 800 times hoping that one of the times I’ll be hit by the magical Espanol fairy and suddenly know what the crap she is saying).  A pod consists of one member of our Logan classroom (there are only 5 of us) sitting in front of a TV screen where there are a bunch of students from other cities.  So, it’s me… and then 10 people from Brigham City on a TV screen, which makes me feel like I’m the one who should be in charge of the group since I’m with the teacher and all by my lonesome on a TV screen.  We rotate screens in Logan, but the other cities just sit there and cross their fingers that that one awkward chic doesn’t sit down in front of them.  OH LAWSY!  

Of course, I’m most likely over exaggerating their thoughts, but what do you expect of me with a psycho serial killer mouse on the loose.  Whenever the teacher asks me a question in Spanish I immediately start panicking and then giggle like a 5-year-old on crack cocaine.  Teeheheeehheheheheheehheeeeeeeee   Breathe in… breathe out… this would be a good opportunity to practice my diaphragmatic breathing and/or hide the cookies… ALL the cookies!  

In other OTHER news… we finally got to the Ogden Temple Open House this past Friday.  Beautiful temple!  Except they had crystal candy dishes in every hallway with NO candy!  Grandma B would be appalled.

I’m posting this picture even though Madre’s eyes are closed… you snooze you lose.  Also, I am not in the picture… and that makes me happiest of all.

We also had Corbin’s 7th birthday party celebration with the world’s smallest cake.  Only because there was peach pie to be had.  Who passes that up for cake!?  

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Mishing and Mashing…

Random blog post alert.  Alert the church elders!  My thoughts seem to be like a big ole pile of scrambled eggs right now, so trying to stick to one topic is going to be mighty trying… oh look, a door.   This will be like running through a mish mash of Madre’s closet mixed with Lindsay’s 6 closets.  A fashionista/muumuu-wearer’s dream come true!

This past Tuesday I had a day off from work on account of the fact that I worked Memorial Day weekend.  What to do on a day off?  The smart answer would have been homework… but sometimes a girl doesn’t use the smart part of her brain, so instead I decided to drive the 45 minutes up to my happy place, Tony Grove.  It was the end of May… surely the snow will have been melted enough to drive up into the lake portion.  Not really… it was looking good at the lower elevations but about 2 miles from the actual lake, I had to turn around on account of the fact that there was a foot or two of snow blocking the road.  Apparently, the sun wasn’t doing its job fast enough.

What do I pay you for?  Sunburns and drought?  Get on with it!  The above picture was about a mile before the snow started blocking the roadway.  Instead I just drove around random lanes and got out and walked when I couldn’t drive further.

Met up with one of my favorite meeses… pretty sure this one is Beelzebub.  Drove over to the Bear Lake lookout where there was a band of bikers relieving themselves in the weeds…  Just because you’re a man doesn’t mean the world is your “R” receptacle!

No pictures of that… moving on… moving on…

I’ll give the sun one more month to get with it… then I’m going back.  Do not disappoint me, sun!

In other news…  I know it’s spring when Madre adds to her criminal history.  I got this picture as proof for the trial.

At the bank… after hours, loading up on lilacs with a pair of pruning shears.  The SHAME!!  THE SHAME!  I was not an accomplice.  I was unwittingly brought to this location with the information that I was going to the grocery store… nothing else.

In less incriminating news… we had our annual backyard-ditch-bank-search-for-the-baby-ducklet outing with my pals, Makayla and her foreign exchange friend, Juanito Bandito, Jr.

Psyche!  That would be Corbin’s evil twin.  We did see some cute duckies, but apparently they weren’t in the mood to pose for any pictures… aka I didn’t get any.

Finally… to the dude sitting in front of me at the USU computer lab yesterday whilst I was trying to take a proctored exam, I am going to blame my less-than-stellar score on the fact that I sat there for 45 minutes whilst you wiped snot particles all over your hands every 3 seconds and then proceeded to use the mouse and keyboard like it was a snottified petri dish!  How’s a girl with 5 billion issues supposed to concentrate after that display of nastiness?  I rest my case!

 

 

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Managing Psychoticness…

This is the first summer I’ve signed up for USU classes.  Usually I sit summer out because I enjoy summer and I like to be able to feel like I can get outside here and there instead of stuffed in a dungeon of vitamin D-less fluorescent lightbulbs night and day.  But, I ain’t getting any younger and this face ain’t getting less wrinkly, so I figure I best get to hopping, and I signed up.  The semester started the weekend after the spring semester ended on May 5th.  No breaks for the psychotic they say!  Something like that.  I wish these “they” people would shut their traps a little bit more and quit giving me new phrases to butcher.

My classes this semester are both online, the first one, History of Utah, which we’ve already established that the professor will not, I repeat… WON’T let me use contractions or the phrase, Oh my stars and garters!  I actually did get marked down because I used won’t in a paper.  Oh my stars and garters… imagine if I’d used shan’t!

For this class, I just finished reading the most boring book in the history of boring books, The Dominguez-Escalante Journal, which chronicles an expedition that some Franciscan Spaniards took way back in 1776 through New Mexico, Colorado, Utah, and Arizona.  I cannot count how many times they told me they passed a rock or how many leagues they traveled in a day.  SNORE!!  Sometimes they came across a tribe of Indians and then it got a little more interesting, but it was mostly about sagebrush and pine cones and the weather.  I got out my journal from when I was a little girl and all I wrote in it was what they had for school lunch that day and whether it was sunny or rainy.  I about had a conniption of glee on school lunchroom pizza day!   One of these days when they don’t publish my childhood journal, people who don’t read it are going to know all about chicken nuggets and that mystery green meat next to the waxy peas.  Way more interesting than sagebrush, Dominguez!

The next class I thought would be very beneficial since the name of it is Managing Stress.  I don’t manage stress well, unless you count the time I threw a book at a moving ceiling fan as management.   So far, 3 weeks into the class and I’m more stressed out than before I started!  Maybe this is the way it’s supposed to be so when we get done with the class in a few months, we’ll all be less stressed than during the class, but still more stressed than before the class!?  Is that the way it works?  Maybe I just need to get a better system down.  She’s making us practice all of these stress relieving techniques on a daily basis whilst journaling them, reading a textbook, doing long assignments, taking quizzes, and studying for a big exam incorporating 6 chapters every 3 weeks.  It’s like a full time job just hopped right out my textbook and landed in my craw.  I think my method of throwing books at moving ceiling fans is a much easier stress-relieving method because it takes 3 seconds and then someone yells at you.  That’s it… done!

Boy… y’all just wait and see.  I’m going to be a flim-flammed hair-less stress-less woman come August…  Keep y’alls eyes open for ceiling fan sales.

 

PS –  A great big thank you to all of the men and women, past, present, and future who so selflessly serve(d) our great country.  Happy Memorial Day!

 

 

 

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Liberating the Wishy Washiness…

Not really.  The wishy washiness is still firmly implanted deep in the tendrils of my being.  I don’t think my being has tendrils, but it sounded really cool in my head and I went with it.

I am pretty sure I’ve mentioned on this blog once or never that I am not so enamoured with my major of choice, technical writting.  So, I’ve been wracking/racking/racketeering/ROCKING my brain as to what else to choose.  Math and Science extraordinaire was number 12 billion on my list of possible majors, so I’m pretty sure I’ll never make it that far down the list.  Sorry rocket scientists; I will not be gracing your presence any time soon.  I finally settled on liberal arts.  I’m durn sure the liberal arts major is a prime major for people who can’t make up their minds to save their lives.  Mostly because you don’t have to settle on one subject.  It’s a conglomeration of a bunch of subjects all rolled into one big ole ball of confusion.  And then there’s the never-ending question, Liberal arts, eh?  And what exactly will you do with that major when you graduate?   Pipe down, Barbara Walters!  Good laws!  Can’t please anyone up in this county.

A trip to the career center is in order, but I’ve seen my guidance counselor where she gave me a confusing rundown of all the requirements and then I decided to double minor in English and sociology.  The liberal arts major also requires 2 years of a foreign language.  Yo habla Espanol?  Me llama, Patricia.  Turns out knowing how to count to 10 in Spanish does not knock it down to a year requirement.  I already asked.

Onward and upward friends.  Until the next time we wishy washily meet.

 

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Wishy Washy Whitney…

It smells like the Yankee Candle Company vomited all over my bedroom.  Note to self:  Do not purchase smellies from the clearance bin… there’s a reason those flavors are in the clearance bin to begin with.  The flavor “winter” smells just like a smog-infested inversion met a dollop of deer doo and united as one.   And of course, I forgot and left the candle warmer on all day.  Gag me a maggot!

I’ve always, always, always and forevermore been a horrible decision maker.  Where there’s a choice between 2 things (seen as equal in my eyes), I have a hard time picking one and committing to it.  It’s annoying for everyone involved.  Choices between one thing I love and one thing I hate are a different story… show me a pot of asparagus and a chocolate bar and I’ll pick the asparagus, but only so I can have the satisfaction of putting it through the garbage disposal.  That’s also why I’m 35 years old and barely a junior in college.  Couldn’t pick a major to save my life… that and I had a hard time controlling my ADD back when I was 18 and didn’t want to go to college.  Plus I was busy gaining 530 pounds of weight… no time for homework, yo when there be thangs to eat!

I finally committed to a major a year ago, technical writing.  Phew… that’s over and done with.  Only one problem… this semester I am taking my first actual technical writing course… and I can’t see myself wanting to do what I do for this class on a daily basis in a work environment.  I just can’t.  I don’t enjoy it, and I think you should try to pick something you enjoy doing… even if just a little bit.  I don’t want to say back to the drawing board, because I do think I’m on the right course in the English section of things… maybe.  I wish I had a new brain and a magic 8 ball that worked, but mostly I wish someone would come and finish this paper I’ve been slugging my way through due Tuesday.  Procrastination… it’s what’s for dinner!

In other news… I have 2 days before my first DietBet weigh-in day and it happens to be right during hormone hoarding week where I gain 80000 gallons of water hormone weight.  No matter… I’m ounces away from my goal of 14 pounds in 4 weeks and heck if I’m going to lose this thing by ounces.  I might have to get all Arnold Shwarzdknfkwiejrowijposear before a weightlifting competition up in this joint… no water drinking and exercising wearing sweats and a garbage bag will be in my future… the lengths I will go to to keep my money!  Maybe if I just eat my dinners next to this here “winter” candle warmer, I’ll lose all sorts of ounces… on account of the fact that the stench will ruin my appetite!  Totes worth a try!

 

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