China or Bust

Yesterday I was set apart as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I do not know if I will be able to update my blog while on the mission, but if I can, I will.

If I can't, just know that I am in China, having crazy adventures, wearing a skirt, and yes, wearing pantyhose.

In the wise words of Yucca Tumbleweed, "May the prophets watch over you". God bless. Have fun, be safe, and please remember to wear sunscreen.

The End of a Legacy

Today a legend has died.

I found out the news through a homeless man. That's right, a hobo. Katie Cullen and I were leaving the Mariners game when we witnessed a man, with a cast, pass over a handful of rocks/pills to another person about 3 feet away from us, and they handed him money. Everyone in the group watched us watch them as we passed. When we were a few feet away Katie said, "Did we just witness" and I stated "A drug deal? Yes." As we were laughing about my future in FBI profiling and what we should have done (meaning I take the handful of goods while stating, "I need this more than you"), Katie told me that the man with the cast was following us. This is when we got stuck at a red light and had to wait to cross the street. The man came up to me mumbling about how he had had surgery about an hour ago (we think he was selling his pain meds), and then stated "Michael Jackson is dead. He was a child molester" and he walked away. Katie Cullen stated, "Yeah, Michael Jackson is dead." But deep inside I knew that there was a possibility that he was dead because anyone who knows crazies, knows that there is method to their madness. When we reached the car we turned on the radio to hear "Thriller was the most memorable song. RIP Michael Jackson."

This was serious, but we had no idea how. I estimated that it was an overdose, Katie Cullen thought it was a complication to surgery. We called Jessie Cordell who was no where near a computer and didn't know about the horrid accident. Then we called Kendyl who filled us in. Meanwhile, Caroline called and talked to me about how her children will never know of the true Michael Jackson. She brought up the idea of his death caused by diuretics, which is completely possible because supposedly he died from heart failure (which is a side effect), I mean, he was very skinny over the past few years.

Caroline was wondering what he is thinking now that he is in spirit prison. I think he is very confused. I mean, he probably has the body he used to have. And no one recognizes him because he is most likely black. Black or white, I still love him.

Honestly were you surprised that he died? No. He was one of those who was going to go out with a bang. Michael, pyt, thank you for the good times, RIP, and see you in a few years.

What is Happening to Me?

I have never been one to cry in a movie. In fact, I have never cried in a movie, but I did tear up in Selena when the rose was dropped on the floor as a artist representation of her death and the consequent termination of her dreams.

I really have never been a sympathetic cry-er, you know the person who has to cry when someone else cries.

But now, I cry during every episode of Extreme Home Makeover, whether or not someone is watching it with me. I cry when someone else I know cries. I also start crying at random sad thoughts in my head.

I don't know the reason for this emotionality. I realized it when my mom, my sister Grace, and I were watching Extreme Home Makeover last night, and my mom stated, "I don't even know why I'm crying", while I was trying to brush away a tear without letting anyone know I was crying.

I hope it is only temporal.

Cut it Out Deux

In the infamous words of one of my heroes, oops, I did it again. Here are some of the pictures of my latest visit to the hairdresser when I stated "My hair looks like a 5 year old's" and "Do whatever you want". The pictures don't look any different from the first time I go it cut, but there are differences. First, it is 2 inches shorter. Second the inversion is more extreme (but still conservative for missionary purposes), and third, I have no idea what I got myself into because my hairdresser stopped what she was doing and asked me twice "You promise you are actually going to do your hair?" I answered "yes" but we both know that after one time of trying to do it, I'll give up.





My hairdresser informed me that I have 3 times the amount of hair as the average person and that besides my widow's peak (which I have known about for years) I have cowlicks on the back of my head that "add interest to my hair line". She also informed me that when my friends and I are done having babies, our hair will thin out dramatically and I will be glad that my hair was so thick. She told me that this time was coming sooner than I thought. What she doesn't know is that I am planning a lifetime with cats and loneliness, so my thick hair will never be a benefit.

Bumps in My Lovely Lady Lumps

So last Wednesday I found a lump in one of my breast, and told myself "It's nothing." But like any hypochondriac would do, I started thinking the worst. I mean, what if I had breast cancer.

So I did what any girl would do and told/showed my mom. I had basically convinced myself that it was nothing, but just wanted my mom to reassure me. She told me she didn't think it was anything, but when she saw it, pure fear crossed her face, and she kept repeating "I'm sure it's nothing". We decided to wait a few days and see what happened. After a few days the lump became visible, when I told my mom, she said "You're too young" and I said "Yeah, but I know people who have had breast cancer when they were 20", and she said "Me too." After a few minutes of silence, my mom said "I can't believe we are even thinking about not going to the doctor". The two of us being the lazy people we are, decided to push off the doctor's visit for a few more days.

On Friday, I decided to set an appointment, but then I canceled because I told myself it's nothing. But after telling my friend Kendyl about it, she basically put me in my place for not getting it looked at, I decided to just go. I had to keep telling myself "Prevention is the best treatment", and the fact I have almost every kind of disease/cancer in my genes, it was a good idea to get checked anyway.

So all weekend I have had these fears that I have cancer, because with my luck I should. I completely talked myself into believing that I had breast cancer. I envisioned my dad having to take me to and from my chemo appointments, and the further deterioration of my body. These thoughts brought me to tears, but then I remembered I finally had a legit reason to shave my head, and everything seemed better.

So I went to the doctor's today, and of course she thought I was crazy. She told me that she didn't believe that it was cancer, but rather a bruise from some form of exercise, even though I told her that I haven't been exercising, at all. Literally, all I do is laundry, and that's not exercise. She is having me continue to monitor, and if it doesn't go away in 3 weeks, then we will have to do imaging. Good thing I am leaving in 3 weeks.

Another great moment that happened was I asked her when I could stop taking my iron supplement. She stated, "We told you, in 6 weeks we will retest your blood to see if the iron is working and being processed", and "Sometimes you have to take the supplements for 3 to 6 months". No Dr. Fluke, you did not tell me that I needed to retest my blood, nor did you the last time something like this happened. All the nurse said was to take 3200mg of iron (actually she kept stumbling over the actual number), which had I listened to her counsel I would have been taking 118.5 times the normal daily value of iron. This is why I am glad I have nurse friends at the State Hospital who I can call for medical advice that won't kill me.

My Life as of Now

So I know you all are dying for an update on my life.

Let me give you a run down. For starters, I'm in Washington living at home and going crazy. I don't have a room, I literally sleep on a mattress that is in the basement, in front of the TV. Seriously. I woke up one morning to my little brother playing x-box right next to me, and I about freaked. Who honestly goes into someone's room while they are sleeping, especially before 9:00 am on a Saturday?! And my clothes are in bins in the corner of the basement and the front room. It's basically like living out of a suitcase for two and a half months, which is something I never like to do.

A typical day for me starts at 7:45 am, when I hit the snooze about three times and wake up about 8:30. Then depending on what chores I want to accomplish for the day, I start working. Usually I do the laundry for my family, and clean the kitchen. On days where I have extra energy, I make whole wheat bread (stop laughing I'm serious). I decided that possibly, maybe, if there is a God out there, that I might be married one day (maybe not in this life, but a girl can dream), and that I needed to be more domestic, because I doubt any suitable husband would be impressed by my Roman making skills, or my ability to drive through the drive-thru at McDonald's.

I finish my duties about 1:00 pm, when I have an orange and some ice cream. My mom has me hooked on chocolate dipped cones from McDonald's (only 3 points on Weight Watchers), and we basically get one at least once a day. I retire to bed about 11:00. Actually the time I retire is completely dependent on whether someone is watching TV or not, another perk of not having a room.

I have also been working for a family in my ward for about 3 hours twice a week. Yes, I know I didn't want to work, but I can't say no, and I'm think I will probably need the money at some point.

I am currently in a battle with my insurance company because they don't want to give me my birth control in advance for my mission (and I can't trust my parents to remember to send it to me). They just don't understand that my uterus does not work unless it is artificially managed.

I am also preparing for my mission. I've got everything pretty much done, I just need pantyhose, which I am holding out as long as possible because I hate them with a passion. Seriously, when I was asked if there was anything holding me back from going on a mission I told my bishop and stake presidency member "I don't want to wear pantyhose." They thought it was hilarious, but I was completely serious.

Other than that, Tuesday night is temple night with my mom, and Wednesday night is when I watch the "Dog the Bounty Hunter" marathon on A&E.

Ice cream and Dog, what could be better?!

You Lay in a Bed of Lies

My parents are a bunch of liars.

My whole life my parents have told me that when my mom turned thirty, she became allergic to every kind of animal. And I believed them. You may be thinking, Whitney why would you believe this? Because when my mom turned thirty she became allergic to raw potatoes and apples too. So my parents told me I couldn't have any pets because "You have siblings" and also because "Your mom is allergic". I asked about every single animal there was including parrots, chinchillas, and rats. But the answer was always the same, "No your mom's allergic."

Being the antagonist I am, my dad promised me that we could have an outside dog when the youngest sibling was out of diapers, and we lived in a house with a fenced in yard. I think he promised me this because either Grace would never get out of diapers, or most likely we would never live in and own a house with a fenced in yard.

Well, Grace has been out of diapers for about 12 years, and we've had a fenced in yard for 8. This isn't the part that bothers me. It's the fact that my brother got a puppy this past weekend and my mom was hogging the dog. I reminded her that she was allergic to dogs (she always forgets that she is allergic to apples and wonders why her throat itches after she eats one), because she was hogging the dog and wouldn't let anyone else play with it. She then stated, "No, I'm only allergic to cats."

My whole childhood was a lie. I mean the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, and now this?!

I know, my parents are horrible people. And, because of their poor parenting and laziness I am not an Olympic athlete. Had they just pushed me, I could have been Dominique Dawes or Dominique Moceanu (I lived in Romania, I probably could have tumbled like a Romanian). I remind my mom of this every time the Olympics are on.

Here are pictures of the what started it all:

The dog's name is Harry.

Sick of Being Sick

So it's no secret that I have been sick for quite some time, actually since I went to Romania and contracted what I thought was mononucleosis.

It's been over two years, and I haven't gotten better. I thought I was crazy and a hypochondriac, so I didn't let others know of my belief that it wasn't mono (well, actually before the test results came back I told my mom there was no way that it was mono). But the tests came back positive.

It wasn't until this past year, when I was living with some old besties when they started saying "I think you have some Romania virus" that I realized I wasn't alone in my disbelief.

But after another positive test for mononucleosis, a swollen liver and spleen and the forbidding of exercising that I thought I was going to get better. But I didn't.

Three weeks ago, I went to the doctor once again and told her, "I'm not getting better" and that "I am sick of being sick", when she stated "We'll test your blood again and see if you're anemic (and some other diseases and conditions that I can't remember)". Sure enough the test came back positive that I indeed am anemic. Meaning that a simple iron supplement can cure me of my fatigue, and hopefully my negative attitude and outlook on life.

This also means that for the past year or so, I could have been healthy had they merely done the right test in the first place. So, thank you Eastside Family Medicine and BYU Student Health Clinic, for running the wrong tests and prolonging my illness.

Moral of the story: If you think there is something wrong with you, there probably is, even if no one believes you. And if your besties start telling you that they think something is wrong with you, there probably is too.

She's a Passionate Woman

This post goes out to my dear friend Emily Lloyd who has a passion for faceinhole.com, which after following her lead, I have grown to love myself. This is what I have been up to the past few hours:


Create your own FACEinHOLE


Create your own FACEinHOLE


Create your own FACEinHOLE


Create your own FACEinHOLE


Create your own FACEinHOLE



Create your own FACEinHOLE


Create your own FACEinHOLE


Create your own FACEinHOLE


Create your own FACEinHOLE


Create your own FACEinHOLE


Create your own FACEinHOLE


Create your own FACEinHOLE


Create your own FACEinHOLE

Don't worry, I was laughing out loud by myself like a crazy person when I made these.

She'll Be Coming Around the Mountain When She Comes

I survived the trip and it was quite fun.



My grandpa had pneumonia and I had to take him to the doctors a couple of times, but we had fun anyways. I slept on his couch and was unaware that he doesn't sleep, but rather paces his house and swears randomly all throughout the night, which made me realize where I get some of my distinguishable qualities. I also administered his medication and gave him his insulin shots, which was awesome. He is also adorable and leaving him was one of the hardest things I had to do since leaving Romania. It was just like leaving my kids all over again, because I knew that he would be taken care of, but I no longer had control of taking care of him. Not to mention I look about 20 pounds overweight in all of my pictures (unlike Romania where I actually was 20 pounds overweight).



We also watched westerns and oldies like "Murder She Wrote" and my personal favorite "Golden Girls". I realized that my life will be one long episode of "Golden Girls" and if I had to be a character I would probably be Dorothy (you have to see the show, then you would totally understand).



Katie Cullen will be disappointed to know that I did not get to ride the horses due to the fact it was pouring down rain the entire time. The closest I got to riding a horse was driving a 1968 Mustang. Another disappointment is that I didn't get an opportunity to wear my mom's Lee jeans that I had to borrow because I left all my crappy jeans in Utah. Nor did I wear the tennis shoes that I stole from my little sister's room (that she never knew I took in the first place).

I also spent some quality time with a hobo when I was waiting for my dad to pick me up at King Street Station. He told me about his veteran status and how he has tumors from Desert Storm and how it is all Bush's fault. He talked to me for about 15 minutes straight and told me that he was supposed to be in the VA hospital in Montana but the convoy never came because of Bush. He told me that I looked like one of the nurses at the hospital and I said, "I used to work at a hospital." He asked me if I was a nurse and when I said no, he changed the subject. He then went on to tell me I was an honest person who cared, and asked if I could give him money for his fare. I told him I didn't have money to give him, but I had food. So I gave him my teddy grahams and a country time lemonade and he was off to harass other passengers. I saw his a few minutes later guzzling the teddy grahams and the lemonade was no where in sight. Little did he know that he looked, talked, and acted exactly like my old patients.

Trout Creek or Bust

So today I will be going by train to Trout Creek, Montana. That's right, by train. The last time I was on a train was in Romania, when a drunken man tried to break into my cabin. But today I will be traveling alone on the wonderful Amtrak. If you are having a bad day just picture this: Me sitting all by my lonesome on a 10 hour train ride to Montana.



I'm going to visit my grandpa you lives with my aunt and uncle, so basically I'm killing two birds with one stone. I will be getting in touch with the inner cowgirl inside of me. It is over 50 miles to the nearest stop light.

I will be there until Friday, and won't have cell phone coverage, so if you can't get a hold of me, do not panic. I will be back soon.

Cut it Out

So I've been talking about how I wanted to cut my hair like Victoria Beckham. My hair dresser thought it was a great idea, but since I can't get my hair cut every six weeks, or more that I can't trust anyone to cut my hair every six weeks, we decided to go with something more simple. Don't judge my hairdresser by what it looks like. I was tired of blow drying it today and just left it air dry. Katie Cullen and Kendyl have been harassing me for photos, so please enjoy.





The funny thing is that I cut off about 5 inches, and the only person who said anything about it was the secretary at my dentist's office who I haven't seen in about five years.

Paste Fericit

Isus Hristos a inviat. Adeverat a inviat. Yes it's true, Jesus is the reason for the season. And as I sit nearly alone in my apartment on Easter (Katie Cullen is the only one home and she is asleep), I've realized something.

I should have bought Easter candy when I was at the store this weekend. Seriously, I'm dieing.

I've also realized that I miss Romania with all my heart. I learned this when I turned the language of the blogspot to Romanian and could only understand a few words, when two years ago I understood about 90% and pretended I understood the other 10%.

I miss the egg game, and midnight mass (even though I received bad luck for a year because my candle went out early). I miss those days when there would randomly be a holiday that no one told us about, and the tramvie wouldn't be running. I miss the deaf gypsy man who begged me in sign language to take him home with me on an airplane. I miss the two person elevator that we crammed 10 people into only to have it plummet five floors and get stuck. I miss gogosi, and funetti, and natti waffles. I miss late night pillow talk and wearing the same over sized t-shirts everyday only to change into over sized scrubs and back again.

I miss sitting in sweaty hospital rooms for hours while I held babies and chatted it up. I miss the longest fall I've ever seen by Emily Lloyd. I miss scala and hala centrala. And Hungary. I miss losing myself (and my appearance) and only caring about those kids. I miss feeling how fortunate I am to have grown up the way I did despite the difficulties.

I miss my scala girls and podul peeps. I especially miss those kids.

I would give anything to let Raluca play with my hair, have Anca choke me, have Nicolina pull my hair, and dance with Adina and Maria. Spin with Valentine, chase Neggie, and whistle with Julian. I would love to hold Emanuela, help Stefan out of his wheelchair, hold Davids hand, and sing to Cristi. Cry with Marian, laugh with Alex, and run with Paula. Scoot with Denisa, squeeze Cosmina, and rock with Denis. Look at my hand with Sergiu, scream with Alina, and grin with Madalin. Modern dance with Ioane, spin threads with Simona, and have little Simona's wet diaper dampen my scrubs. Make weird noises with Matei, watch Monica sleep, discuss life with Murat, and help little Cosmina breath.

It's only a matter of time before I go back and become a gypsy.

Lei Hoh Mah

Have you ever tried to speak Cantonese? Because it is crazy and hard. Yes is "heih", and no is "m heih". Fun huh?

Anyways, let me give you an update. I had my last day at Utah State Hospital this past week. This is serious. I thought it would be fine, but now it's like a piece of me is missing. I mean, who's going to boss everyone around? I was fine with the whole idea of leaving until I had to turn my keys and badge in. Then I had to go to the unit without either and the guy in central control asked me if I was a pool tech. No, I've just been working here for about two years, no big deal.

Without work you would think that I'm less busy. You would be wrong. Now I'm going to school, finishing up projects, trying to sell my contract, and packing my entire room up. Not only packing, but having to decide what I want, what I don't, what I need for the next two weeks, what I need for the next two months, what I need for the next 18 months, and everything in between.

Now answers to the questions you probably have: I'm going into the MTC on July 1st, I'm excited, nervous, and basically in a daze.

Other than the fact I'm graduating and moving to China, my life is pretty boring, but busy.

Made in China

Ok, so the news is...

I'm going on a mission to Hong Kong. That's right you read it right, Hong Kong. 1 July 2009.

Seriously, I'm going to be a foot taller than everyone, and lose weight by eating rice.

I need to process this, so I'll write more later.

Best part about everything: My mom said (through tears) "Now you can get the 'Made in China' tattoo on your foot!".

Adventures of a Sunday Afternoon

Yesterday was out of control. First of all, never, ever lie, because you might become a prisoner of your own house and get trapped in your kitchen as your roommates continue to spin a web of lies.

I'll leave out specifics in case the parties involved read this, but basically I'm being stalked by a man, and he hasn't gotten the hint that I'm not interested even though I have told him that I didn't want to go on another date with him (my mom made me go on a second date because she said "I know a lot of people who hated their spouse after the first date, give him another chance".) Thanks Mom, now I can't answer the door.

Anyways, so this kid stops by all the time to 'hang out' and I either pretend I'm sleeping or that I'm not home. He is the kind to knock repeatedly and stop by later. So yesterday I was making cookies and he stopped by. Katie Cullen told him that I was sleeping, but really I was in the kitchen. He then preceded to invite himself in and was watching TV with Jessie. I was now trapped in the kitchen and he was sitting on the couch that has a view of the walk way. After panicking, Katie Cullen came up with an ingenious plan that they would leave. So they did (meanwhile Yucca's excuse was "I'll come in another car, I have to...do my hair"). So then they left and he followed them to the parking garage, so they actually had to drive somewhere. When they came back he was in the parking lot next to our house. They had to run. Katie Cullen dropped the tortillas, it was a mess.

It was probably the most hilarious/most scary thing that has happened in a long time. I was trapped in my lies in my kitchen praying that he wouldn't walk in the kitchen and see me standing in the corner saying "Dear God, make me a bird. So I can fly, far, far away."

After that we decided to hula hoop and unicycle. That's right you heard me. Yesterday I unicycled. And no I'm not anymore coordinated they you remember. I was holding onto people while I peddled.

Then we went to the duck pond and saw two turtles in the water. I noticed right away that they were dead, but no one believed me. I kept repeating that they were dead, but everyone ignored me. Then Caroline Lamb picked up a turtle and it didn't move. It's head started flopping and we knew it was dead. Then Katie Cullen fished out the other dead turtle with a stick.

I went to my grandparents for dinner. The first question my grandpa asked me was "Are you getting married?" with so much promise in his voice. No Grandpa, I will never get married.

Basically it was a great day.

Buna Baby

Ok, this blog post goes out to the one and truly Emily Lloyd, because she made a special request.

There really isn't anything in my life going on that is blog worthy, well actually there is, but I don't want to post anything about it until it is final (3 weeks hold your horses Emily). I promise if you have patience, then I will update you.

But for now you are stuck with the boring status of my life. I am still not allowed to play contact sports, but it's not because my doctor is worried about my spleen, but rather my liver is tender and the fluids are now backing up into my spleen. We found this out when I was getting a physical and he pressed on my liver and I pretty much seized, and let out a groan. He stated "Did that make you nauseous?" and I replied "No, it just didn't make me feel very good." Yes, I am very articulate.

It's been really fun, I mean, I've realized that my body wants to be pregnant, because it just keeps packing on the weight, and I can't really do anything to work it off, so my all-you-can-eat diet has been really successful.

I am still single, and accepting the fact that I may be a spinster with nine cats, which won't be that bad if I don't work at the State Hospital the rest of my life and actually make money.

Recently, I've had this crazy desire to run away to France, which is really weird because I've always hated the French and have blamed them for my problems. Also, I don't speak French, so that's also a problem. Jessica, if I do go, I will send you post cards with all my love.

But I really think being a Gypsy would be the ultimate career/lifestyle. I mean, you can pick up and move whenever you want. You steal from the rich and give to the poor (yourself). You set fashion trends. And you can wear bangles 24/7.

I kissed a girl and I liked it, apparently.

So this past month I went to my doctor because I haven't been sleeping. At the beginning of the appointment, I could tell he thought I was being a hypochondriac, but after talking about my life stressors, he thought I was severely depressed. Let me just tell you, that if you ever want to get depressed, think critically about your life stressors and discuss them with someone who doesn't know you well (The big life stressors include: school, finances, careers, and relationships). When he started asking me questions like "Have you ever thought about hurting yourself, or wanted to end it all", I knew what he was getting at. I started laughing, and I tried to persuade him that I wasn't depressed, because I'M NOT! I was able to get it through to him, that I have severe anxiety not depression. So, he tried me on Trazidone, an anti-depressant that when used in small dosages only has the effect of drowsiness. It did not work. He also tested my blood for everything that could possibly make me tired. Including HIV, thyroid problems, and mononucleosis (and because BYU doesn't bill private insurance, it cost me $300). He told me to check back in with him in a few weeks.

So this past week, I had an appointment. I brought along Katie Cullen for the adventure. When they were weighing me, I asked to see how tall I was. The nurse/CNA told me that I was 5'7". I said "WHAT?!" and she acted like nothing had happened. She then saw that on the computer it was written that I was 5'10", so she wanted to check me again. This time I was 5'9". Now this might not seem like news to you, but when you've been told your whole life you're 5'10" and then one day someone tells you you're an inch shorter (on the same day you had been studying self-esteem in your adolescent development class, and realized your self-image isn't fully developed until you're an adult), you will be mortified. It was like someone had told me that I was adopted. Katie acted as if nothing was wrong. She didn't understand the severe trauma this had caused me.

Then the doctor came in and told me that I was not HIV positive (hallelujah). He told me I was positive for mono (I could have told you that without the $40 test). He then told me I shouldn't play basketball anymore. This was another crushing moment for me, because I am on an intramural team that is basically my life. He told me that if I continued to play, I had a high risk of rupturing my spleen and also relapsing into a worse sickness that would take longer for me to recover. I then told him the medication he had me on didn't work and he stated "Have you ever heard of Ambien?" and I said "Yes that's for crazy people". And he said "Well, we're going to put you on that, and see how that works". Basically, for those of you who don't know about Ambien, if you aren't crazy to begin with, you'll become crazy. People who take it do not remember anything that happens after a half-an-hour after taking it. People can hallucinate with it, sleep walk, sleep eat, and can become hyper sexual. Also, if you force yourself to stay up after you take it, you will become high. So I have to be locked in my room when I take it.

My doctor then told me that I needed to prevent spreading the virus. He said "So no sharing drinks" I interrupted with "Not a problem, I don't share anything anyway. I'm a germaphob". He then continued and said "And no kissing boys", he then paused, turned and looked at me and said "or girls for that matter".

So basically, my doctor thinks I'm a lesbian and now I'm turning into one of my patients.

The Fifth Avenue

This is what a Chrysler Fifth Avenue looks like:


Let me tell you a little about my precious Chrysler Fifth Avenue. When it's cold, the engine will turn off if I let it idle. Meaning, that it I come to a full stop for too long (IE. about 10 seconds), the engine will shut off. I've learned that if you keep the gas and the break on, you can avoid the engine failure, but when there's snow + ice, there's no hope. Plus the windshield wipers only work when they want to. Also, I can no longer take my car on the freeway, because every time I do, the day after something goes horribly wrong with the car and I have to take it to the shop. My mechanic's name is Frank, and he's the best mechanic/most honest man I think I'm ever met (if he wasn't 50 and married, I would totally date him). If you need a mechanic, please, go see Frank. He basically knows me by name, well he knows when I say "Chrysler Fifth Avenue", that I mean business.

I think I want to write a book called "The Adventures in the Fifth Avenue", because my car is basically out of control, and I have so many stories. Maybe that's what I'll do after graduation.

Ice Capades

So I was walking on campus, minding my own business, when I approached this set of stairs. The stairs were covered in packed snow and were every slick. As I was setting my foot upon the top stair, I told myself, "Whitney, you are going to fall on these stairs". So I tried turning my already placed foot sideways, so that if I slipped, it would slip on the stair and not down the whole flight. Sure enough, in the process, I lost my footing and slipped. I fell hard, and hit every single stair on the way down the flight.

I think the best part about the whole thing was that I was surrounded by people who acted like nothing had just happened (or maybe it was the giant bruise I got because of it?). Of course I was laughing hysterically throughout the whole event (which seemed to last over 5 minutes). When I initially started laughing, the girl who was walking in front of me, turned around and glared at me, as if you say "you idiot". I managed to say "I knew that was going to happen". But she didn't care, and she and her friend kept walking in front of me extremely slowly and took up the entire icy sidewalk so I could not pass.

On the way home I was just smiling about how great my life is. I mean: I'm 21, I'm single, I'm graduating from BYU with no plans for the future, I drive a Chrysler Fifth Avenue (if you do not know what this is please google it and have a great laugh), and I work in a forensic unit at the State Hospital. I was also laughing on my way home, which made me think the people around me probably thought I was laughing at the voices in my head.