Thursday, September 30, 2010


Today on the way home, Allee stepped into a muddle (a literish allee-ism for mud and puddle). Because of this, she had to remove her shoe.

Basically, she hopped down 1200 E. with one shoe on.

She sees an extremely attractive runner boy, with those running shoes that are made to form fit your feet.

Allee really wants a pair. Tisha says they're only for people who can run a hundred miles a day. We'll work on that.

The boy looks at her funny, because she only has one shoe while he has super-hot-running-feet shoes. Meh.

After she had been home a while, she looks at the clock and realizes she is late for her news meeting. She grabs the ugliest pair of flip-flops to ever grace the Jones hall carpet (which desperately needs to be vacuumed, btw), and rushes out the door. She gets to the news meeting, passing by her editors at the front of the office who probably think she's just run a marathon because she's panting like a over weight golden retriever. She looks around, and realizes she's 24 minutes early.

She walks back past her editors.
And feels quite foolish.


Tuesday, September 28, 2010

A dai een ze laf...

Allee awakens at 6 a.m., losing one full hour of sleep just so she can go to the 7th floor of the business building to for an interview, because she's a journalist or something. She sits in bed for a full three minutes, pondering why the sun comes up so early. She reluctantly crawls out from under a foot or so or quilts, and is confused. The temperature of the air slightly resembles Alaska. Why, she says, just three hours ago it was eighty degrees in this room. Either Al Gore's predictions are coming true at an alarming rate or, oh yes. In her sleepy haze she remembers that the lives in the weather schizophrenic city of Logan, Utah.
She slips on a lime green hoodie that comes with a seizure warning on the tag. Just don't stare at it too long. She walks out of the room contact-less, with a face comparable to a Naked Mole Rat. Just in case you were deprived of Disney Channel as a child, see picture below.

In a sleepy frenzy, she gnaws on some oatmeal that didn't quite cook all the way, and runs out the door smelling like applesauce and musty dish rags. She makes it to the interview, albeit ten minutes late, and learns about 135 things she already knew, and 1 thing she didn't. Skip some boring hours of learning. Allee goes to a class where the teacher looks like this:

making Allee feel like this:
(About now, you're probably dying because of the freaky animal comparisons)

This teacher starts to pass back group papers, which makes Allee's little heart beat about 600 M.P.M., mostly because her group could only write on a 10th grade level, and big haired girl's battery died before she got to edit. Oh the sorrow.

Turns out, the cat teacher gave the group full credit and simply circled random things and said "good point". Sigh. A man who just happens to be Mark Trahant comes and talks to the class, and makes Allee remember the reasons she's going into journalism (For money and job stability, duh). Although her eyes droop, because she does things like writing blog posts at midnight, she pretty much loves the guy. Heck, he rhymes his twitter news headlines. If we were playing baseball, it would be a triple. Journalism, creative writing, and twitter all rolled into one sickly sweet ball of news.

Allee walks home. Eats. Dies. Studies. Says hi to Cody. Snacks. Studies. And walks back to campus. She tries to smile at people she sees, but they all scurry by because her exhausted smile resembles a scream.

Across the street from the Creamery, she spots a man. He has a hilarious hat, and a hilarious wife, and a hilarious looking sun. Even at thirty feet away, she can tell he's going to stop her. Even when she gives him a scream smile, he taps her shoulder.

"Zee oo naw de plas where de stoodents con booy ice?"

She doesn't have a clue. For all she knows, he could be asking where the nearest mink farm is. She points to the creamery, and the man says "zank zoo". She hopes she didn't mislead the poor random hatted man.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. She watches a movie for a class about a college newspaper that is actually real. Meets a super cute photo journalist. Laughs a little. Walks home in the dark and ponders why she hasn't dated yet.

Home. Study. Eat. Die. Blog.

I know I promised no more animal pictures, but I couldn't help this one. When I grow up, and am unemployed because I got a degree in print journalism, I'll sit all day and make LOLCATS.

Saturday, September 18, 2010


I can listen to something twice, and remember it for the rest of my life.

I can read a page of biology, and remember it for about 5.3 seconds.

I don't get it.

Too bad I can't get somebody to rap my science textbook.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Hello mister textbook

I am really good at not reading.
And drawing faces on my textbook.
And yes,
that's me.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010


I have now made it through almost two weeks of living without a mommy, and three days of college classes. Without further ado...

What I've learned from 3 days of being a Freshman
Sleep is a commodity.
I don't actually miss much, except the humor and wit of Steph-en.
Pick boys like you pick watermelon. With care.
With that...baking food for the male sex changes lives.
I like spinach?
Living with roommates is like when I was eight years old and I got to have a sleepover and stay up all night doing stupid things, and then I would crash the next day. Except, it's everyday.
I'm really glad to not be an agriculture major. Or a family and consumer science major. Or a math major.
I'm scared to death to be a journalism major.
Logan is devoid of radio stations.
I am not special. There are at least a thousand people exactly like me.
E-textbooks are the best money saving worst idea ever.
I won't buy toilet paper for my roommates again.
On that note, I really do love my boy-crazy, meowing, ramen noodle cooking, roommates.
Like....a lot. Almost as much as I love laughing at My Super Sweet Sixteen.

And most ironically... I learned I'm not actually a freshman. Just in personality.

Because everybody's mother would let them have a buff, tattooed, european man at man at thier sixteenth birthday party.

For my entertainment...