The Passive-Aggressive Bathroom Snatch.

When you live in a house of 10 girls, there's a lot of passive-aggressiveness that goes on. We females just aren't built for genuine tell-it-like-it-is aggressivity. But probably my favorite maneuver that I see all the time (I'm just as guilty of it as the next person) is a little number I like to call the Passive-Aggressive Bathroom Snatch. It goes something like this:

Person A: Well, I think I'm ready to head to bed. Its getting late!
Person B: Yeah, same here. I think I'm just going to finish this up first though.
Person A: (Gathers stuff up and heads for room) Goodnight Person B! I'll see you in the morning!
Person B: (Sits for a moment, waiting, watching)
Person A: (Walks completely into room to put stuff away, out of sight of Person B)
Person B: (Leaps from chair and books it into the bathroom to brush teeth, take out contacts, get ready for bed, etc)
Person A: (Walks out of room just in time to see the bathroom door slam shut and hear the lock click with awful finality)

Passive-Aggressive Bathroom Snatch. Its real. Tell all your friends.

Have a nice day.

To the Girl in my Ecology class.

You ask me if I've talked to my dad about the water issues surrounding the production of alfalfa, then look down on me when I say I haven't. Well. Let me tell you something.

Its easy for you to judge looking from the outside in. You've never lived on a farm. You've never been a part of my family. So let me give you a picture of my dad's farming business.

My father has grown alfalfa for a good portion of his life. And he's dang good at it. He knows when to cut, rake, and bale in order keep the leaves on the stem inside the bale. Thats where all the nutrients come from, and its no easy task. He knows which crops are going to give the best hay (4 is usually really good, whilst 3 is pretty crappy). He's obsessive about weeds and weed control. There have been many times that I've had to go through windrows pulling out weeds that somehow made it through the control measures. Consequently the Relative Feed Value number for our alfalfa is usually in the 190's to 200's, well above the 150 cut off required for prime feed.

Our hay is so good there really isn't a market for it in Utah. So we ship to California. A man by the name of Paul Cordinez buys basically all our good hay. And its not uncommon to get anywhere from 175-210 dollars a ton depending on the hay market. Its a sweet set up.

And now you're giving me that look because I've never asked him to grow anything else. Me, the nineteen year old daughter who has never had any interest in farming, but benefited from it nonetheless. I wouldn't be here if it were for the family business. What gives you the right to look down on me from your lofty tower of ideals and judge me and my father for something you don't even understand? There is always two sides to every story, and perhaps you should take that into consideration before you start going off about how things will never be resolved if there isn't an open dialog in the home. Did it ever occur to you that this might be one dialog I don't want to open?

Have a nice day.

When the Mask Slips

An oldie, but a goodie. Its funny but you can totally tell I wrote this during ACCESS...hence all the science terms.

Masks were a part of every day life for Vanessa. She was the proud owner of a collection, a different mask for every occasion, polished up and held ready in that corner of the brain where a personality is supposed to be. 

There was the superficial mask she used at every ball she had attended, full of “Thanks you sir”’s and “Pardon me madam”’s. It was a mask full of bubbling social politeness. Then there was the mask she wore for her friends. Snobbish and rude, behind the gaping eyeholes of this mask she could say pretty much anything she wanted. Reputations were punctured, gossip was spread, and the pointless activities of yesterday’s news were discussed in high twittering voices and double layers of meaning. 

A different mask for every occasion, as numerous and variable as life itself. 

But lately in the dark quiet of her bed chambers, she could sometimes feel the masks slipping away, disintegrating into a thousand pieces of fantasy mixed in with a million shards of intangible dreams. Without it, she felt no more substantial than a wisp of nothingness, fragile, delicate, easily blown about on every wind of criticism. 

Who was Vanessa really? 

It was a question that she, herself didn’t really want an answer too, but somehow, deep down in the nether regions of her soul, she knew it was a question that had to be answered. And so naturally, she fought with every atom, every molecule, every teeny tiny piece of somethin--that same soul maybe--to keep those masks in place, polished, primped, and ready to go at any moment. She felt like she would be nothing without them, her all-purpose selection of identities. 

And so she cracked, cracked under the combined weight of millions of masks, millions of personalities. 

It happened that fateful day in the garden with Liam, her chosen suitor of the month. She could trace the supernova of her sanity, and therefore status, back to one single instant of weakness. The moment her mask slipped away for just a second. 

One question led to her ultimate demise. One question that had been burning away inside of her, slowly eroding the wide-eyed mask of vapid admiration she wore to stave off Liam’s dull monologue of rice exports and boarder conflicts. It pounded through her bloodstream, a nagging sliver forcing its way deeper into her body with every beat of her heart until the only thing she could hear was a mad rushing sound in her ears. The pressure built and built until she thought she would surely burst. 

Suddenly she realized that Liam was staring at her curiously.“Princess? Is there something wrong? You appear to be quite…indisposed.” 

She shoved down the mad urge to laugh. Indisposed hardly seemed to capture the scope of it. 

Why PETA is Ruining My Life.

I had to get a new Ucard today. A stupid new-fangled Ucard that you can't hole punch due to the stupid new-fangled proximity chip thingy. What in tarnation!

My options? Either lose said Ucard (a 20$ value) within a couple days or buy a geeky plastic ID protector that clearly screams, "I love my face so much I want to keep it with me always in this protective case!!!!" Yeah. Either option isn't exactly appealing.

I miss my old Ucard. We had such good times walking through the softly filtering sunlight of the Utah campus and it, faithfully dangling by my side from the same lanyard that holds all my keys. I used to laugh as the HC people struggled to swipe my card with the weight of all those keys. And there was that one time that the swiper lady at the Union wouldn't let me get chips with my transfer meal. I watched with vindictive pleasure as she swiped my loyal Ucard several times, getting more frustrated as the moments passed, until finally she had to give in and just type in my number. Lame card swiper lady: 0, Team Marie & Ucard: 1. It had my back even then.

When the guy at the Ucard office asked to see my ID card, I didn't realize I'd be handing it over for the last time. After all, I just needed to get a digital fingerprint attached to it so I could get into the animal lab portion of South Biology. (Said animal lab is under like three levels of high security...fingerprint, ID card, keys.) I pulled my lanyard out of my backpack and set it down, keys, mini flashlight, Ucard and all with a janglng plop. The guy stared at the resulting mess on his counter, before closing his eyes as if praying for patience and saying, "I need you to take it off that." Obligingly I handed my faithful card over, not realizing that it would be the last time I ever saw it. He stared at it for a moment, eyes widened in disgust that someone would actually punch a hole through one of his precious cards before throwing it in the trash. "This new card will have a proximity chip, so you can't punch a hole in it," was all he said before printing off and handing me what was to be the replacement for my old friend.

I took it and examined it closely. The background is too dark. It says 'For Campus Use Only'. And whereas my picture was stretched out height-wise before, on this one my face is stretched width-wise, meaning I vaguly resemble a chipmunk who has just had his wisdom teeth removed. Fantastic. Its going to be an awesome year...

RIP Old Ucard.
 You are gone, but never forgotten. 
May you frolic amongst the lilies in Ucard heaven, and smile down upon us all from above.

Have a nice day.

As Seen on the Shuttle.

This is why guys shouldn't shave their legs...

Its hard to see, since I was totally snipeing this picture. But that dark shadow on the top of the guys leg to the left is thick man leg hair. The creepy thing was that the line between shaven and non shaven hair very neat and even...

Have a nice day.

From the Eyes of a Lefty.

I recently took a test to see how many more years I have left of life based on my lifestyle. Unfortunately it deducted like two or three years off my lifespan because I was left handed. Apparently the stress of living in a right handed world is going to get me in the end...what a way to go!

But that got me really is kind of stressful to be left handed. I mean, the only advantage other than epic coolness is trickiness on the sports field. I mean, look at all the things we left handed folk have to put up with:

  • right handed scissors-adjust or never cut paper again!
  • right handed desks-super annoying...nuff said
  • writing the english language-left to right? come on people!
  • writing anything on a marker board-everything thats written is immediately erased by your hand
  • using a computer mouse-always on the right side of the keyboard...always!
  • track pad on a laptop-my latest laptop finally got a track pad where you can switch up the buttons
  • credit card machines-swipey deal is always on the right, same with the pen to sign
  • gearshifts in cars-I guess if I was european it wouldn't be an issue
  • shaking hands-I always carry my stuff in my right hand..and thats the one everyone wants to shake
  • learning sports-I've gotten really good with mirroring what coaches show me. Unfortunately...
  • dancing-due to my automatic mirroring impulses dancing is now impossible to learn
  • arm wrestling-either way someone always has an unfair advantage
  • table setting-the cups are always on the right, which makes things awkward
  • eating in general-unless you exile yourself to the outside you're always bumping arms with someone
  • safety button on power tools-apparently if you're left handed you deserve to lose fingers
  • take picture button on cameras-always on the right
  • guitar hero-was a pain before they invented lefty flip
  • tv control things at the field house-on the right handle of the machines
  • corsages-my good friend Rachel Gale told me they're supposed to go on the left of your shirt, but if you're pinning it on yourself and you are left handed...yeah...
  • ignition in cars-on the right side
  • stereo in cars-same deal
  • my parents water pik-super awkward to use if you're left handed
Its weird, but after looking at this list, I kind of wonder what my life would be like if I were right handed. Would it really be that much more convenient?

Have a nice day.