"Today Americans drink as much bottled water as they do milk, and slightly less than beer."

hahaha

that's so depressing....we're more than slightly drunken, depressingly dehydrated, and sufficiently calcified.

who would've thunk? :O

read the rest of the article here:
http://health.msn.com/dietfitness/greenarticlepage.aspx?cp-documentid=100164226&GT1=10109

the list

tonight i learned that i had managed to get on a list. not a hit list, either, so i was fairly impressed with myself (since being on a hitless would be a virtually effortless achievement for me :P)

the discovery really put things in perspective, though. it seemed to make everything a little more "worth it" than it had previously seemed. it closed the door to the pity room, firmly locking me out.
i'm thinking now that maybe maintaining my place on that list is really what i should be concentrating on--not whether these shoes match perfectly with this purse, or whether that guy thinks you're cute, or whether you have a date to this event or that. just because distractions come in all shapes and sizes, and they're hiding behind every corner that you think you've triumphantly turned.

maybe instead of worrying obsessively about popularity or grades or appearance or a plethora of other vain, prideful things, i should be giving my spot on that list a little more attention.

you've gotta start somewhere, right?

:O

post-prom non-hangover

post-prom non-hangover hangover is the worst. it's almost 11:00 in the morning and it feels like 6:30...maybe that's just because i'm not a morning person. :P

i think it's safe to say that the LDS Prance was an official success, despite its careful and cost-effective planning that dates back to February. haha yeah...despite :P

three cheers for the prom committee!! :D

i think my favorite part, though, might've been the after party. maybe even the AFTER after party, which involved serious hose warfare and derek's discovery that spraying teenage girls in prom dresses with the hose results in a LOT of screaming.

and jocelyn, because i know you read these (:P), you still owe us a performance! :D

i finally figured out that it was a terrible lie that i was told that you don't need minutes to text on saipancell. i thought it was too good to be true. apparently i was right :P haha i need to go buy a card. i feel as if i have no right hand without the ability to text. it's depressing. :O

hmph.

the dangers of pink sugar

there's a mass of white, covered--no, doused-- in sugar, resting comfortably in my refrigerator at the moment. it possess tinges of pink, and is split in half by a sweet redness. along its edges grow modest clumps of flowers, in strange, sweet colors that don't normally occur on our planet. what is this strange being?

my birthday cake. it's HUGE. and only 1/3 eaten by the time i brought it home. it is now painfully clear to see what my diet is going to consist of for the next week. that is, until i depart and leave to my parents to solemn responsibility of ingesting approximately 10 pounds of incredibly sweet raspberry vanilla cake. i have a pretty high tolerance for sweetness (actually...that's a lie...i can barely sip a Pepsi it's so sweet) but this thing is SACCHARINE. the excessive sweetness is like...for lack of a better word..."WHOA."

so this afternoon, i'm just sitting at my mom's laptop that has been painstakingly plugged into the DSL (the laptop due to our computer's having crashed AGAIN...mom's convinced that it has thoroughly died this time...i disagree...i can still hear it grunting) and i see my dad (through the eyes in the back of my head...or perhaps due to the uncontrollable swiveling of our swively desk chair) walk into the living room with a large plank of wood. he then starts to take all the cushions off the little couch and installs this large, creepy plank of wood underneath the big butt cushion. completely appalled, i run into the living room:
me: what are you doing?!
dad: fixing the couch!
me: why?! it's working fine!
dad: no, it's not! it SAGS!
me: *blank stare* it's a couch, dad. it's supposed to sag.
dad: this one sags extraneously.
me: does not! *dramatically drapes herself over the couch, preventing further reassembly*
dad: move!
me: no! the couch doesn't sag! and now it's all hard! it's gonna hurt our butts!

he didn't believe me. he remained convinced that the couch was "firm" rather than in the butt-breakingly hard state that presently resides in.

my mom is watching television (happily perched atop the woodified couch) right now and i overheard someone on "dateline" or "frontline" or "nightline" or one of those linear shows and the anchor woman was proclaiming the latest advents in customer satisfaction, including "rent-a-husband", just in case a woman needs some extra help around the house. frighteningly enough. rent-a-husband. i'm terrified. i wonder if they have "rent-a-wife", just in case there are men out there with a deep longing for domesticity and willing to pay big bucks for it.