I Got Stuck in an Elevator

I got stuck in an elevator once; it was a sad but fulfilling day. It didn't happen today or even yesterday, but many moons ago, back when I was in seventh grade.

My friend Jordan and I were taking the elevator down to the first floor of our school to drop off someone, a rare honor only blessed on those who are the most trustworthy, and we decided that it would be a great idea to take the elevator back up instead of taking the stairs. Jordan was this skinny, little, short guy that was full of spunk (keep that in mind for later), and he was supposed to run the key for the elevator to Ms. Newbie while I held the elevator door so we could take the elevator back down. Sneaky, sneaky.

He ran the key over, came running back, and jumped in the elevator. We pressed the button for the first floor and the most unexpected thing happened, an alarm went off. WAAAAAAA WAAAAAAA! Oh no it was Ms. Newbie but no, wait, it was the elevator!

The door started to close like in horror films but stopped with a little gap, just enough to allow an arm through.

 The alarm continued to go off and we started to panic. Jordan, being the little twig that he was, snuck through the tiny gap and made his way towards freedom. I, on the other hand, was not as small and was stuck.

"Jordan!"

I cried out, reaching my arm through the pathetic gap. I knew if he left me I would get caught and be all alone in the blame. How was I going to get myself out of this situation?

He stopped, looked at me, back to freedom, and made his decision. He came back (terrible decision, really because if this was actually a horror film we would both die). We held each other closely and finally the alarm stopped and the elevator closed, taking us down to the first floor. That was one of the more scarier times in my life, but it was also one of the greatest because I learned that day that I had a real friend. Ms. Newbie never found out and we never got in trouble. Did I mention there were only two floors at my school? Worth it? I would say it was a day well spent.

My Life as a Dancer

When people ask if I am human or if I am dancer I proudly exclaim "Neither!" All joking aside, I have done some soul-searching this semester and have come to the conclusion that I am, indeed, not a dancer. Here's why:

What I should look like

I am currently in a social dance class where we have learned the Fox Trot, Swing, the Cha-Cha, and Waltz. I knew before I even started the class that it was going to be a bad idea. I had watched the class previous to mine and did not like it one bit. What they were doing was having the guys holding both of the girls hands and leading the girls around, eyes-closed, wherever they wanted to take them. Later, my teacher called it "tone." 

I decided to be brave and actually try the class, but I had misplaced bravery, so much so that it was to the point of stupidity. Within the first two weeks, one of the T.A.s told me that "if [I] had more confidence I would be better at this." That is the sort of thing every girl wants to hear. So, I stepped up. Instead of approaching my next victim with apologizes, I followed the famous words of Lady Gaga and "just dance[d]," and it sucked!

When I say I can't dance, I don't mean I have two left feet, I mean that I have two left hands for feet. Don't try arguing, I have proof.

In class, this last week, I was the first girl to get asked to dance (by miracle, no doubt) and we did the Fox Trot (which is my worse dance). I was dancing with a really sweet guy, but I could tell he was getting annoyed. I apologized profusely saying "I'm sorry, I can't dance," to which he responded by patting my back "That's why I'm here." Like I said, sweet guy. That is, until the next class. After that all went down and it was time to pick a dance partner, this girl and I were the last ones left and he looked right at me but picked the other girl. Okkkkkaaaaayyyy. Later, during rotations, I was paired to dance with him. Once again I apologized with a "you must hate me, or at least dancing with me," and he had the nerve of saying "No I don't hate you. If anything, you let me know I need a better leader." Okay, maybe he wasn't being that mean when he said it, but it still hurt. 

On to the next bit of evidence. During rotations I got with this guy who is amazing at dance, but first the teacher was going to teach us "sass." They first told all the girls to whip their hair to be sexy, but since I have no hair I rustled my hair in the sexiest way possible for me, which means I looked like I had lice. Back to the dude, so right when we were supposed to dance with each other, he went to the bathroom, for the whole dance time. Okkkkaaayyyy. It was rotation time again and this time I was going to dance with a guy I think is pretty cool. The bathroom guy said "Ha, maybe I should dance with her." and the cool guy was like "You want to?" and bathroom guy went "No you can." and cool guy ran over to the next girl and was like "You can have her.,"

THEY LITERALLY FOUGHT WHO COULD NOT DANCE WITH ME! 

So that is my dance class. Pretty brutal, but then again I am pretty sensitive. Moral of the story: if you get a gut feeling that you shouldn't take a dance class, you probably should take it anyway because it makes for a good story later. 

Ray's Splash Planet Adventure

During summer last year, my family took a trip to the grand ol' Ray's Splash Planet which is a indoor water park where there are children's tears and urine instead of water. Normally, this wouldn't be an adventure my family would take, but there were three babies and one toddler in our pack at the time, and Gammy J thought it would be fun to do, so we went.

Me, at Ray's Splash Planet

The kiddos were splashing, and the adults were even having fun while taking turns watching the kiddos and riding down the slide. Person after person went down the slide, all going down the same way, pencil-style. Now, I am a master of jumping in the pool pencil-style so how hard would it be to go down a slide the same way? Apparently, a lot harder than I expected.

Following my sister-in-law, I climbed the stairs, only to be told to step back because I was too close to the slide. I listened to the instructions, but then it was my turn and I received no instructions on how to go down. I laid down on the slide and off I went, pencil-style of course. I was splashing and swishing and almost spun over to my stomach, but then I hit the bottom. No, like literally, hit the bottom. Splat, blood, lost toenail, the whole shabang. I'll spare you all the details, but basically I ripped off all my little toes' toenails. I hobbled out of the pool and went to my mother who was guarding our stuff. It was not a fun moment. My sister in-law asked if I wanted help, but I said "no" because I am a strong, independent woman who don't need no lifeguard, but that is before I met him.

My mom, not talking no for an answer, called over Hottie McHottiepants. He was a beautiful man with a heart of gold. He got me a bandage and later came over to check on me.

And that's all that happened. The clouds didn't part, the stars didn't align, I just passed ships with Hottie McHottiepants.

The MOST Embarrassing Thing

 

The most embarrassing thing happened to me the other day. Like, literally, the most embarrassing thing.

Flashback

It all started on a beautiful Monday. Well, it wasn't that beautiful, but it was pretty nice compared to the rest of winter. My FHE group (family home evening) had planned a fun activity of Stranded. Stranded is a game where you have two groups  and two cars. You send two to three people from your group to the other car and they get blindfolded and are driven to a new location. After being dropped off, it is their responsibility to call their group and direct them to their location. Fun game, right? Well, we should have known that this was a bad idea to play because everyone from our FHE group who have played it has had a bad experience. One drove their car in the ditch, the others had their phone die in the middle of the game leaving them, wait for it, stranded.

Flash Forward 

It was the first round of the game and I was the copilot. The guy was driving like crazy and I was starting to feel sick. We lost despite both of our efforts (which was actually little to none on my part). I offered to go home, saying I had a early morning class (which I did), but was told to stay. Next round started and I was supposed to be stranded with two other team members.  I was sitting in the back seat of a truck and really was feeling sick now. Problem was, if I said anything or even opened my mouth I would throw up, but if I sat in silence I would most likely make it to our destination and then I could throw up on the side of the road.

NOPE

I threw up all over myself and the truck. Did anybody notice? Nope, again. So, here I was, sitting in my own vomit, trying to get someone's attention without yelling "Hey, I threw up." The driver and his buddy commented on the smell and turned around to look at me, but didn't recognize that I threw up; they just thought I was cheating by having my eyes open.

By now I was panicky, so I nudged my roommate and whispered "I threw up." The guys whipped
their heads around and were all like "YOU THREW UP?!?!"

Long story short, they were very nice to me and drove me home, but now I can never face them again.

But, hey, if that doesn't bring us closer, what will?

The first time I got sick while in Idaho was actually a pleasant experience, in that I didn't die. I currently am taking a shot that has a tendency to make me sick to my stomach, and on that fateful day I had also taken that shot, well, actually I had taken it the night before. I went about my morning as I normally would, by eating my cold cereal and going to class, and honestly nothing felt off, but then I got home from class. I baked a pizza for myself and sat down to eat two slices but ended up eating four. I mean, come on, I hadn't eaten since 6:45 in the morning and it was around 4:00 in the afternoon, so of course I'm going to eat a lot. I probably would have been fine, but then I went for a drive with my friends to go get hair dye. I, again, probably would have been fine, but my roommate was driving and she is a crazy driver. Love her, but crazy. We get to the store and I'm doing fine, then we head back home and I'm not doing fine.
"Go faster," I should have said, or even "pull over!" but I didn't, instead I suffered quietly in the back seat.
We finally arrived to the apartment complex, and I am proud of myself for not upchucking in the car, but I still had one more challenge to face: Walking to the bathroom. I start moving, slowly so I don't upset my stomach any more than it is already and I make my way to where the gravel meets the sidewalk.
Hhhhhhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu
I threw up.
My other poor roommate, who had come along for the ride, heard me make a noise and was walking back to see what was happening.
"Em, I threw up."
Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuuuu
I threw up again.
Had this just have been a intimate moment between me and my roommate, Em, it might have been a moment we could have kept secret through all eternity but no, there was a car parked right behind me with two girls sitting, watching.
 So, instead of dreading that day, I have decided to embrace it. I literally have left my mark of this apartment complex.

A Trip to the Ice Caves

Now that I am living in beautiful Rexburg, Idaho,  I have gone on many adventures, one being the ice caves. Here's what happened...

It all started with me sitting on my couch in my apartment.

HOLD ON!


Okay, backstory now. There is this guy that I totally have had a crush on since senior year of high school. That is all sweet and stuff but problem was that I never was going to see him again because he went on a two year church mission and also went to a completely different college (BYU-I). Well, I transferred over to BYU-I and on my first day touring the campus my dad and I were walking when my dad exclaimed "Gastonia, North Carolina!" Well surprise, surprise, there he was, the man of my dreams.

 "<insert guy's name here>!" I yelled out.

"Yay...." he said, obviously not recognizing me (probably because I cut my hair so short).

We talked and then he remembered me. Not too exciting on the outside, way exciting on the inside.

RESUME!

So I'm sitting on my couch in my apartment when suddenly (cue the choir of angels) he messages me out of nowhere.

"OH MY GOSH!!!!!! HE IS TALKING TO ME!!!!" (cue the pig squeal).

We talk causally, because obviously I am so chill, and he invites me to go to the ice caves with him. Not knowing what that was, and not knowing what I was getting myself into, but only knowing that I was going to do it with him, I agreed to go.

BAD IDEA!!!

We plan out the trip, and get the cars all ready, but I'm beginning to doubt myself. First of all, we needed AWD cars, and second, we would have to lie on our backs and use our feet on the ceiling of the cave to shuffle our way to the slide that was on the end. Maybe if I wasn't so claustrophobic it wouldn't be a problem, but nope, I got my momma's genes.

Despite all my fears I rationalized that I was a big girl and he was going to be there so I might as well go. I invited some of my friends and we hopped in my car to drive out. We jammed out to Disney music and partied the whole way there, but oh, did I mention that you have to drive an hour off road? Me, being the prideful person I am, decided with no one else's consent that I would drive my little Subaru across this trail. We started out just fine, bouncing a lot, but fine, until we almost got stuck.

"Maybe we should pull over," my roommate's boyfriend suggested.

I did, and we waited for the next round of cars to head on over. The ride was fun, not going to lie, but then we arrived to the ice caves.

To speed things up, I almost cried, wet myself, and had a panic attack all at once. It was so scary just to get to the freaking hole in the ground.

"LISA! I'm going to have a panic attack" I whispered to my roommate.

"WHAT!" she yelled back.

Now, I'm really embarrassed. I explained my situation to Lisa and she offered to stay behind with me, but I turned her down because there were a whole group of people like me who were too freaked out to go in.

Long story short, I waited outside the caves and when that hunk of a man came out, he expressed his concern for me not going in, which was totally sweet.

That's it, nothing too exciting.

Hole in the ground

Me, duh, when it was windy

Hole into the cave

Opening to get to the opening of the ice caves

Why Cows Jump Over the Moon

As many people know, cows jump over the moon. The are many depictions of this occurrence in paintings, stories and television. Children are even taught this principle from a young age.  The problem that lies in the event that leave people puzzled.

Why do cows jump over the moon?

After years of studying and pouring over all texts available , even dating back to the 1940's, I have come across the answer. An answer so astounding that I could hardly believe it.

Cows jump over the moon because they are running away from werewolves.

Voila! People have failed to realize the moon is always full when the cows go jumping, and that werewolves only come out at that same full moon. This tradition had a harmless beginning that turned dark quickly. It started when country teen wolves began cow tipping. Cow tipping was a fun, easy way to spend the night when there were little amounts of people to terrorize. Parent werewolves would become concerned for their young and would go out hunting for the children. Upon finding the young werewolves simply cow tipping, the parents would become furious in the waste of the night so in the heat of the moment a cow would be eaten. Soon, werewolves developed a taste for beef and would start the night of killing in the fields. Over the years of dying, cow have developed the instinct to jump, avoiding the tipping and the eating.