Trying but Failing at Being a Good Samaritan

So, my calling in church is "emergency preparedness co-chair". Basically I am in charge of letting the ward know where to go in case of an emergency. I also am in charge of all the food drives and blood drives. Well, today marked the second time our ward/stake had a blood drive. Last semester was the first time I had ever donated blood. Minus the minor freakout I had where my body went into convulsion shaking, it went all right. Then the American Red Cross kept sending me all of this propaganda about how only 25% of first time blood donors ever donate again, and basically made me feel like a horrible person for keeping all of this clean (minus living in Eastern Europe, mononucleosis, and the occasionally drug use) blood inside of me. So I decided out of the pureness of my guilt-ridden heart to donate for a second time, just to beat the statistics. Anyways, so I woke up early today (10:00am) in order to make it to my appointment at 12:15. I get all the way up there (on campus) and go through the whole screening process. On the outside (and I thought on the inside) I was calm and collected. I passed the blood pressure and iron scan with flying colors. Then all of a sudden the lady told me to take deep breaths. She kept telling me to do this, and I was like "What?! OK." Then she told me that my pulse was too high to donate blood and that I needed to find my 'happy place' and keep breathing deeply. 5 minutes (5 actual minutes) of namaste breathing later, and my pulse was still way too high. It has to be under 100, which is what most people's are when they are exercising heavily, but mine even after the "cool down" process was still 106. She then told me that I was not able to donate blood today. You may be asking, why was your pulse so high? Because I was panicking, and hate needles going into my flesh. My mom told me "Well at least you didn't yell at the lady like you used to. It's kind of funny how you used to say 'get away from me lady' and now they are telling you to go away." Yes, I used to yell at nurses, but let me just tell you I have had ALL of my shots that you get throughout your life, three times (yes three) because we switched doctors so many times they lost my records twice. Anyways, the whole ordeal wasn't such a bust because she told me that I could still get snacks from the snack table. I went over and saw the glorious Famous Amos cookies and was content. But, there were people all around the table and they were all staring at me. It was one of those awkward moments where you have to say something, and I said "Well I can't donate blood, but they said I can get refreshments anyways." There was an awkward silence and everyone was staring at me, so I grabbed myself a bag of Famous Amos and said "I don't have AIDs I promise" and left.

Well, I killed two birds with one stone, I didn't have to donate blood, and I still got some cookies.

FYI

I would just like to inform everyone, that if you for some reason see someone with wrist-to-waist handcuffs being escorted by two regularly dressed individuals, it is STILL not polite to stare. I had to take one of my patients to the emergency room last night and everyone just sat there staring at us. Not just the little side stares you give when you want to see what's going on, no, it was the full-on stop-conversation-so-there-is-silence-when-you-walk-by, turn-and-look-with-a-gaping-mouth-stare. I wanted to say "What? You've never seen someone handcuffed before?!" Now, I can understand the kids and the old people staring who were there, but you'd think the idiots who are in the ER on a Saturday night would have some manners. But then again, there are in the ER so they can't be too bright. But nonetheless my patients (usually) do not stare at you, so therefore, do not stare at them.

Thank you.

Hanging Loose; My Going Topless Experience

So, today in my Psychology of Gender class, 40 minutes until we were allowed to leave, I got this strange feeling I wasn't wearing a bra. I thought "This is weird". But I specifically remembered putting my bra back on after my basketball class. So I sat, and tried to pay attention to the lecture. But I kept feeling more and more like I wasn't wearing a bra. Then I started second guessing myself thinking "maybe I didn't put my bra back on". So, I reached in my shirt to feel my brastrap. It was there, but really loose. I didn't think much of it, and told myself "see you are wearing a bra". Well, this strange feeling didn't go away, so I decided to scratch my back, and conviently check for my bra. To my suprise, there was no bra strap on my back. Somehow, it had come undone. Then I started to think, "did the people behind me undo my bra?", "No Whitney, how could they do that?!". Anyways, so by this time we still had 30 minutes left. So I sat there thinking "This is kind of nice, maybe I should go braless more often." But then I remembered a conversation I had with Jessica Balkman yesturday about how if you don't wear a bra your boobs will sag to your bellybutton when you are old. And I also remembered I had a test I had to take. So I began thinking of ways to get my bra back on. I was so consumed with thoughts of putting my bra back on, that I probably should have just gone right then to the bathroom, but I stayed in the class thinking "would it be so bad if I just put it back on while I was sitting here?" Then taking note of the married, very conservative guy next to me, I thought it might not be appropriate. Class ended and I went and put my bra back on. I still do not know how this all happened. I originally thought that it had broken, but when I put it back on all the hooks were in place. Anyways, through all of this I have realized that I have never set a bra on fire, and I've always wanted to do it.

Burning a bra is my next goal in life.

Paste Fericit

Isus Hristos a inviat! Adevarat a inviat! Well, I started Easter off calling my family. I talked to my grandma and my mom. I ate half a bag of minature Reese's peanut butter cups and a half a bag of speck-tacular peanut butter M&Ms which were delicious, and my favorite color (an aqua blue). Then I went to church. I came home and made myself some chicken that tasted horrible. Then I made brownies. I ate the brownies with Dreyer's thin mint Girl Scout cookie icecream (don't worry the icecream was on sale for cheaper than a box of Girl Scout Cookies) and watched Tim Burton's "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" and the first half of "The Sound of Music". I then ate the chocolate bunny I had salvaged from Walmart. This bunny was the saddest bunny you have ever seen. It's ears were broken, and it was the only one left. They gave me a 10 cent discount, so I just had to buy it. Well, I ate it, and it was the worst tasting chocolate I have ever tasted. Worse than Romanian chocolate (for those of you who haven't eaten Romanian chocolate, it's really, really bad). You would think since it was so bad that I would stop eating it, but I didn't. I ate the whole thing, and hated every minute of it. Then, when I was brushing my teeth Jessica goes to me "Whitney, you know you have chocolate all over your back right?!" Yes, I had chocolate all over my brand new white shirt (and by brand new I mean the second time I had worn it). Not to mention it was all over the couch. So, today for the first time I used a Tide pen, which was awesome. I don't know how well it worked, but it was fun to use. I'll find out tomorrow when the laundry is done. But thank you Jessica Balkman for noticing the chocolate, and being prepared with a Tide pen. Today, I also sat reminiscing about last year, and how I was in Romania and attended midnight mass. And how you light your candle at Mass and walk it home, and it is supposed to give you good luck (if you make it all the way home). Then I remembered how I got all the way to the elevator of my bloc (that's Romanian for apartment complex), and was frantically trying to converse with some of my neighbors, that in the midst of it all, my candle blew out. So this year is supposed to be more lucky than last. We'll just have to wait and see. What a great Easter.

Paste Fericit!

Basketball 2

So last night, my roommates took me to the Sonics game for my birthday. It was the best birthday present ever! We drove up to Salt Lake, stopped at McDonalds, and I realized that I have an internal compas for McDonalds, because I was able to get us there without ever being there before, and not having to turn around once. I made a special order to get a #7 with a hamburger bun instead of a club bun, because club buns are nasty. Let's just say: a special order + the drive through + a man that doesn't speak English = mass confusion. Once we figured everything out, and two reciepts later, we were able to 'enjoy' our meal. Needless to say, I will never be ordering a #7 again. Anyways, on to the game. The Energy Solutions Area is not the Key Arena. The televisions outside the arena are little 10" sony TVs straight out of 1992. Loved it. Let's just say the game between the Sonics and Jazz looked more like a WNBA game than a NBA game. I have never seen the ball go through that many legs in all of my years of watching NBA. Anyways, the highlights of the game included a sweet half-time show with a man who juggled balls onto a piano, and yes he was better juggling/playing the piano then I am just playing the piano. The best part of the experience was that Lil' Jon was there. Yes, I'm serious. It was awesome. Ye'ah! Ok!

Dominating in Basketball

So a few weeks ago, my roommates and I (and by my roommates and I, I mean me volunteering my roommates), auctioned off a game of basketball. Well, last night we played against the house that bought it at the service auction. Let me just say, we played on an outside court, with the kind of flooring that is on oldschool home basketball courts, you know the kind that doubles as a tennis court and basketball court, that is little squares connected together. Anyways, so not only did we have that, but the sun was in our eyes the whole time. Also, we were playing with a very slippery men's ball. With all this being said, let me also inform you, that Kira, my 5 ft tall roommate jumped the ball at the beginning. The other team won the jump, but I intercepted their pass, which ended up dislocating my thumb. Not knowing that it was dislocated, I pulled my finger to pop it, because that's what you do when you jam a finger to stop the swelling. It wasn't until later when I was thinking about it that I realized that I had reset my thumb. Anyways, with one hand out of the game, I was forced to play with only one hand. I would like to tell everyone at this time, that the other team was a house of 9 guys. We only had 4, but luckily Nate Lawler stepped in (we would have died without his skills). So they had 4 subs, and we had none. At half time, it was tied. I am serious. Second half started, and I'm pretty sure we were winning because their coach stopped keeping track of points, I mean who honestly stops keeping track of points unless you are losing? Plus I can't remember them actually scoring second half, and I know that I scored at least 3. Anyways, all I have to say is, never underestimate the power of the Richardson House's basketball skills. We may be a bunch of females (plus Nate), but we will still dominate you.

Harold B. Lee

Ok, so Katie Cullen and I were at the library (yes, this is the second time this semester I have actually gone there, not counting trying to go to the accounting lab), working on our D&C lecture, and writing Katie's cover letter. We were discussing the fact that Katie had typed in "Anorexia Orem" into the Google search engine, when the guy next to us (wearing his full army get-up, mind you) jerks his head from his computer and stares at me. I then told Katie to type in "A Center for Change" which is the eating disorder clinic that Katie is applying to work at (not to seek treatment from). A few minutes latter the guy leans over and says to me "You know there is an free eating disorder clinic here on campus" as if I was in need of some eating disorder counseling. I quickly assured him that we were job hunting, and that I knew about the center on campus. He then nervously asked me "Do you know if non-students can get counseling from them?" I replied so politely with "I don't know but if you contact them, they can let you know or give you a reference." We continued working, and all of a sudden he started making noises as if he was mad at his computer. I seeing that he had strategically placed his army hat close to me, broke the awkward non-silence (since he was making weird noises) and asked if it was true that if you put on their hat they have to kiss you. He said he had never heard that, but did I want to?. And I quickly responded that he would have to provide the kiss if I put on the hat, not that I wanted it. Katie just started laughing and then I had to explain that that's what the ROTC kids at my high school said. A few minutes later, the guy said, "well just so you know I'm very flattered". I was like what? I was just asking a question, not implying anything. But I just smiled and laughed to myself.

Why do people at BYU have to converse with one another? Can't we just do our homework in peace?

Why I am doing this.

PS You may be thinking, Whitney you're not married, no one cares, and why are you doing this. Well, because I don't have a life, and YOU ARE reading this, AND in the wise words of my idol (and also Bobby Brown) it's my prerogative.

Grandpa Englund's Birthday

Last Sunday, it was my Grandpa Englund's 82nd birthday. I went up early to my grandparent's house to go help with dinner. Well, they didn't need my help. So I asked my grandma if I could try on her wedding dress. Let me just preface this with the fact that Jessica Balkman is wearing her mother's wedding dress when she gets married, and since I haven't fit into my mom's wedding dress since I was thirteen (thanks to my abnormally large ribcage), I felt that maybe I could fit into my grandmother's dress. Well, I put the dress on and I was barely able to get my arms into the dress, not to mention the 4'' to 6'' gap in the back. I made the joke to my grandma that if I lost 25 lbs I could fit into the dress. She said, "Well yeah that will do it." And she was completely serious. She later commented "Well if you just lose that weight, you can fit into the dress." Needless to say for the first time in years she didn't ask me if I needed anything else at dinner.

Round 2 of my evening happened at the dinner table. The week before when we were having dinner my grandmother lectured us about politics. I'm serious, she made us read this republican propaganda because she knows my cousin isn't a republican. I made a joke this week about how we wouldn't have a lecture on politics. Then, all of my aunts and uncles preceeded to talk about Barack and Hillary for the rest of the meal. While my cousin Jordan and I just sat and laughed and ate all of the pot roast and bacon.

Round 3 happened when I was using the bathroom, and my grandpa walked in on me. There are two doors into the bathroom; one from the family room/walkway and one from the side bedroom. I locked the door to the family room, but didn't think to lock the bedroom door. All of a sudden someone started jiggling the door handle, and I said "I'll be just a minute". Then there was silence, and my grandpa opened the side door. The funny thing was, is that I wasn't embarrassed at all, but I think my grandpa was.

Round 4, seriously there are four rounds. I didn't realize there were four rounds until my cousin Jordan mentioned how my uncle hadn't talked to the two of us the entire time we were there. Literally, didn't say anything to Jordan, and just said "Hi, Whitney". When Jordan said goodbye to him, he didn't even look up. I decided to give him a hug, because I think if you are going to at least pretend to be my family, I'm going to treat you like it. My uncle put his hand out for me to shake it, and I just stood there with my arms open for a hug. He leaned forward, and I thought he was going to hug me while he was still seated. So I leaned forward, but he stood up, right into my shoulder. I ended knocking his glasses almost off his face. He was so angry, but he tried to hide it. And then some how I ended knocking him down back onto the seat. He wasn't happy about that either. But I guess that's the karma he gets.

Happy 82nd Birthday Grandpa!

Am I Seriously Doing This?

Ok. So, who is going to read this anyways? Probably just Kaitlin Dew, who I give all the credit for me creating this. I will try to give you updates and highlights of my life.