Halloween Sweaters Are Tacky

*Not Glenda (or is it?)

So are Halloween earrings.  Glenda (the not-so-good witch) is wearing both today.  Is it possible this makes her more obnoxious?

So I Get a Text Today

Hey stranger, what's up?  It says.  And its from a number I don't recognize.  

So I respond:  Who is this?  

Grant.  He responds.  Grant is from Ogden, old friend from high school, divorced.  And this was totally out of the blue.

I need a favor.  He says.

Me:  What's that?

Come with me to a Halloween party tomorrow.  I'm in a pinch.  He texts back.

In a pinch, huh?  Why's that?  I ask.  Because I haven't heard from Grant in months.  Months people.  And I hate to be his last option when he's "in a pinch."  The last I heard came in an email divorce "announcement" for lack of a better word.  Which I thought was kind of tacky, but really, how else do you get the word out so that people can avoid that awkward  "Where's your wife?"   "Oh, we're divorced now," conversation?

Please, Harper.  I'm begging.  Which is followed by a picture text of Grant on his knees begging and let me tell you, he doesn't look too shabby, that Grant.  He lost 129 pounds of blonde bimbo and that does a lot for a guy's looks.

So long story short, I am going to Halloween party numero dos tomorrow night.  Why can I not return to my reclusive state?  I am not a bowler.  I am not a party-goer.  I stay at home and enjoy my quiet peaceful life.  I hang with my family and girlfriends occasionally.  I don't go to parties.  Please let this one work out differently than last week's.  I guess it is time for a new pair of wings.

Aloha in T Minus 4 Months

Alisa texted me at work with the following:

That's it!  I've had enough of this.  Let's go to Hawaii.  Tonight.

Which resulted in us wasting work time looking up trips and we found a flight to Hawaii and a package that we both can't entirely afford but we can't afford to pass up either so in February we are going to Hawaii.  Thank you Visa.  Thank you that I'm renting and own little to no stock in my ever-shrinking pitiful 401K and so this economic nightmare isn't killing me in quite the same way it is killing everyone else.

And thank you that everything else is going wrong and I needed something impulsive and Alisa came along and dropped it in my lap.  I am going to Hawaii.

I Skipped the Singles Ward Today

and headed to my mom's ward in Ogden.  Because that ward feels like home and there are no back rubbing idiots there.  And I needed to do laundry anyway.  And Alisa had her cousin's farewell to get to anyway.  So my better judgment took over this morning and I headed to Ogden.

And I remembered how loud the old people in her ward are and how loud the babies and little kids are.  And honestly it felt good that no one was flirting with anyone else except maybe the deacons and beehives in their own awkward way.  I sat in sacrament meeting thinking maybe I should come back permanently.  Until my mom's bishop was so happy to see me and wondered "when are you coming back, you know the primary just isn't the same without you" (thanks dude, but too many years with the CTR 5's can drive a girl mad).  And that is the moment I remembered why I went to the singles ward in the first place.  Because if you are single and mormon and female and go to a home ward then they believe primary is the perfect place for you to be.  Because otherwise, what else could they possibly do with you?

My own private utah is right.  I am on my own little island of reject flying my freak flag high.  My piece doesn't match with this puzzle.

I hope Jen wrote really stupid things to Tommy Boy on the back of her sacrament program.

Guess Who Is Eating Her Own Words?

Me.  You know that whole recluse thing.  Well, what is it about a crush on a boy that flicks that switch to "suddenly social"?

Tommy Boy and his roommate invited folks over for a Halloween Party tonight and Tommy Boy texted yesterday and said I needed to come.  So last minute I searched through my disorganized crap closet to find some wings from an old costume and I tried to throw together some type of fairy(?) costume.  I even stopped at wal-mart and picked up false eyelashes because somehow that makes a costume official.

So I went.  And it was awful.  Too many people trying to impress too many other people.  It was loud.  The food was gross.  My eyelids now itch from the fake eyelash glue.  My left wing got bent somewhere in the night.  And all night Jen, my new enemy in the ward, flirted her cat self (she was a cat for Halloween, of course it was a "not too risque, but a little seductive" cat costume) all over Tommy Boy, who dressed as Buddy Holly (how appropriate is that, full of himself, Rivers Cuomo wanna-be).  And he was all over it, I'm quite sure.  Talking and talking and talking and more talking in the corner.  And she giggled, and he probably giggled.  And I sat with my cup of homemade rootbeer and gross hot dog and wondered how I became this crooked winged loser.

So I gave Alisa THE LOOK and she returned THE LOOK and we left early.  And Tommy Boy didn't even notice when we said goodbye.

This is why I hate social engagements.  I remember now why I stopped all that around 25.

Went to the Temple Today

And suddenly the world feels like a better place.

I love it.  I love the temple.  I love the peace it brings.  My negative me goes away for a while and I really do see things in perspective.

Why can't everywhere be a temple?

Jay, have I told you lately that I hate you?

I hurt.  Everywhere.  Everywhere.  Walking is difficult.  Breathing is difficult.

I have to say it again, Jay at 24 Hour Fitness I hate you.  

To your credit, my pants are actually kind of loose.  But I think I might also be going  down a bra size (great, my one selling feature and I'm paying in agony and pain to lose it).  

That is all.