how to: secure a boyfriend

You know what I really hate? The word "boyfriend." I don't know why. I just hate it. But in spite of this pertinent and life-changing fact, I have one. A boyfriend, if you will. And since I have successfully secured 2, count 'em, 2 boyfriends in the history of my life, this naturally makes me an expert, and so I've decided to share my endless knowledge. Because I Care.

Step One: Leave Your Basement.
         If you are currently living in a basement like a hermit, subsisting off of Rainbow Chip frosting and watching every episode of every season of 30 Rock, STOP THIS MADNESS. I don't care where you go, anywhere is better than that basement. *Pro Tip: Attend a basketball game. You should only ever date people who love basketball.

Step Two: Be Yourself. No Matter How Utterly Absurd Yourself Is.
         I bet you think I mean what everyone else means. FALSE. Everyone says "just be yourself", but what they mean is "don't pretend you are Astronaut Mike Dexter, but make a good impression." I am living proof this is not true. I make terrible first impressions. Just today I met a guy for the first time, we talked classes/major, and he asked me if I knew a professor by the name of Ross. I replied glibly, "Yeah, I do Ross." I did mean, "Yeah, I do know Ross," but really you need ALL the words in a sentence. Or else it will not mean what you intended it to mean. The point is, who cares? Be yourself.

Step Three: Talk. Endlessly. 
          You know what, you know what that means. I'm just going to move on.

Step Four: Make Your Original Boyfriend/Fiance/Husband Leave You.
          Polygamy is not a widely accepted practice in most developed nations. You cannot date multiple people at once. So whomever you're dating, don't leave him for another guy because that's mean, but do make him leave you. If you are me, this will require absolutely no effort on your part (see Step Two).

Step Five: Refuse To Figure Out How You Feel About A Close Male Friend.
            There is nothing close friends of the opposite gender love more than not knowing how you feel about them. Are we friends? Are we more than friends? Do we want to be more than friends? Would becoming more than friends cause the world to explode? Don't answer any of these questions. Repeatedly say, "I just don't want to hurt our friendship," "I'm not sure how I feel," and "I just want you to be happy." Close male friends love to be told these things.

Step Six: Randomly DTR.
             DTR means, "Define The Relationship." This clearly needs to be done, but don't do it in a normal way. Randomly drop it into a conversation. The next thing you know, you're dating.

There you go. As for keeping a boyfriend, well, you're on your own there. But aren't you glad I shared my endless knowledge?

Love,
Lizzy ;)

the awesomest ghetto old man (or, Lizzy Buys a Car)

So, some of you may know, that I sort of have a vehicle. It is technically my stepfather's vehicle. Also, it is a 1985 Ford pickup. With 208,000 miles on it. And it is multicolored. And leaks all fluids.  But I love Butch, because he has faithfully served me without complaint. The problem is that now I work half an hour from my apartment. Which is not that big of a deal. Except in this place I live, it snows. Pickup truck + rear wheel drive + snow + Lizzy's crappy snow driving abilities = death.

I also have scholarships. A lot of scholarships. Too many scholarships, in fact. So I got handed a chunk of money when this semester started. And since I really doubt I will ever see that much money handed to me again, I figured this was probably the best time to actually replace my awesome pickup.

It turns out car shopping is really annoying. I looked at so many cars. I am pretty picky and didn't want to spend money and so it took me a while.

Today during my Psych Stats class I noticed an ad for a 1999 Ford Taurus with only 104,000 miles on it. This caught me interest. Stats did not. So after class I called an old man and got directions to his house. The old man was selling the car, by the way. Visiting random old men is not a hobby of mine.

Then my friend...he needs a nickname to keep him from the brilliance and subsequent drug rehab of stardom. We shall call him...Blaze. So Blaze and I went after work to check out this Taurus.

I found the elderly man, living in a garage, eating some tacos and wearing 70's shorts. Already, I thought, I like this man. He then handed me the keys and said, "Go check them airbags." So I drove the car around. It seemed to be in perfect condition mechanically, although its exterior was a little rough around the edges. Also, the man was just awesome. I said, "$2400." He said, "Okay."

And now I have a 99 Taurus. Now, the back windshield had some coating that is peeling off, and well, it needs a little love, but since it has so few miles on it (for a $2400 car), I'm happy. And I don't need to pay anything for mechanical parts or getting it fixed up. Awesome. Awesome. Plus...it has a radio! And air conditioning! And I can finally stop looking for a car. Wooooot.

Love,
Lizzy ;)

i'm not saying bombing half of BYU would be a good thing. i'm just saying there would be benefits.

Ah, BYU. Such a beautiful campus. Such qualified instructors. Such high, LDS-approved standards. The only problem is that there are about 20,000 more people than I would like. The concentration of people per square inch on BYU campus from 9am to 3pm is greater than even Hong Kong's busiest hour. But today, as I was being buffetted by the Cast of Thousands of overworked, overstressed, overachieving students (yes! already! I can hear the complaints of the insane workload and business on four cell phones from my current location), I happened to run into Mikelle. The following conversation ensued:

Mk: "What chances are these?"
Me: "30,000 to one! How are you?"
Mk: "So tired. I stayed up late doing reading and I got up early to finish reading and then class was canceled and I used the word 'freaking' for the first time. You?"
Me: "Really, really tired."
Mk: "Why?"
Me: "School. Work. Humans."
Mk: "Books. Paper. Pens. Plastic."
Me: "Bacon."
Mk: "Pagan?"
Me: "Yeah. Those Pagan rituals take up so much of my time."
Mk: "I know, me too."
Me: "I wish we weren't Pagan."

The rest of the conversation was mostly twitching and laughs.

My life is weird.