From the archives: June 29, 2003

So today I went visiting with this woman from church and the following conversation ensued.

Me: So I hear it's really easy to find places in Utah.
Gerry: Yeah, it is, since the streets are on a grid system and most of the streets have numbers instead of names.
Me: Really?
Gerry: Although recently they have been changing some of the street names, I'm not really sure why. The street I used to live on was just changed to Freedom Boulevard, I think.
Me: (making what I think is a very funny joke) Did it used to be FRENCH Boulevard?
Gerry: Nooo... (long awkward silence)
Me: *sigh*

I don't think I'm going to be funny in Utah.

From the archives: June 19, 2003

My first LiveJournal entry of all time.

EDIT: THIS WAS 8 YEARS AGO YOU GUYS WTF

Elisa succumbs to yet another trend

Magic Talking Live Journal: So, Elisa, what did YOU do today?

Elisa Koler: Well, Magic Talking Live Journal, I got up early this morning and went to my first day of work at Luke Casteel and Associates. I sorted dead corporate law files into boxes in the basement of the Fisher Business Center. I got all the way up to 1996!

MTLJ: Holy crap!

EK: Yes. It was highly enjoyable. Almost as much fun as Disneyland.

MTLJ: Can you tell me something interesting about corporate law, Elisa?

EK: I'm sorry, I can't.

MTLJ: Oh. (whispers) Is that because the information you are privy to is confidential?

EK: No. It's because there is nothing interesting about corporate law! And even if there was, I wouldn't have noticed because this morning I was asleep and awake at the same time!

MTLJ: Ha ha ha ha!

EK: After three hours in a very small room with lots of papers, I went home and ate a peanut butter sandwich. Then I went to work at the synagogue. I made and ate lots and lots of knish!

MTLJ: I LOVE knish!

EK: That is because I love knish, and I created you.

MTLJ: Yes, master.

EK: Anyway, while I was at work, my boss punched me in the kidney with a broom!

MTLJ: Ha ha ha ha!

EK: Actually, it hurt a lot. But he said he was sorry.

MTLJ: What an exciting day you have had! What happened afer you were assaulted with a cleaning implement?

EK: Well, I went home and took a shower, because I had somehow managed to get brownie mix in my hair. That was pretty much my day. What about you?

MTLJ: Well, I was just created about 15 minutes ago, and I feel great!

EK: So I guess that makes me kind of like God.

MTLJ: Yes Master.

EK: I love you, Magic Talking Live Journal!

MTLJ: You are my best friend!

EK: Sorry, I'm taken.

Welcome back, welcome back, welcome back.

Go ahead and listen to this song and replace Kotter with Koler:

Have you noticed I have not blogged in a long time? Maybe you have, maybe you haven't. I'm not going to apologize for not blogging, because I'M NOT SORRY. I am also not sorry that this quarter is over, because working fulltime and going to school fulltime is totally exhausting. IT IS THE WORST. Did not enjoy. For all those who did that for four plus years: I SALUTE YOU.

Over the past quarter, I have been so frequently pressed for time that I have become disgusting. Evidence:

1. One time I borrowed my employer's husband's deodorant when I needed to go straight from work to school. Fact: ladies should not smell like Old Spice.

2. Once, while eating dinner/studying in bed, I spilled yakisoba sauce on my sheets and rather than wash them, I just slept in them. Fact: I still haven't washed them yet. Probably this weekend.

3. I also washed my hair in the sink at work.

4. Another time, I dumped cornstarch in my hair at work because I needed to go to school and I had not showered. Fact: I am an Italian greaseball.*

5. Tonight, I ate M&Ms for dinner. Plain. Because they were part of the visual aid for my math class.

Don't worry, I have lots of great stuff in the works! Here's a preview:

1. Even more 2011 books.

2. Installment 1 of Book vs. Movie vs. Movie.

3. Installment 2 of 30 for 30: the "Should I get rid of this?" edition.

4. Installment 1 of I Really, Really Love TV.

5. In-depth reporting on Star Trek Con 2011 in Vancouver, BC. HELL YES I AM GOING TO THAT.

6. Kevin Clash.

Here's to a great summer!

*Also fact: I am not Italian.

Greetings from the Phoenix airport!

I woke up this morning at 5 AM with this song stuck in my head.

Your explanation is as good as mine.

From the archives: March 13, 2004

Embarrassing Story Time!!!!

Probably everyone in the ward has either heard of or played Bryan Robison’s game known as “Good Idea/Bad Idea.” I will now utilize his method of storytelling to relate an embarrassing incident that happened, oh, about fifteen minutes ago.

Nancy calling the IT services office to get help with her computer, which was not working = GOOD IDEA

IT services sending a male type to the girls’ dorm to fix the computer in question = AS YOU WILL SOON SEE, BAD IDEA

Elisa returning home from Frisbee and deciding to take a shower = GOOD IDEA

Elisa entering the hall clad only in a towel = BAD IDEA

Elisa remaining silent so that the male type will not turn around and see her, then ducking back into the room as the male type exits the floor = GOOD IDEA

Rachel laughing at the expression on Elisa’s face = BAD (ALTHOUGH UNDERSTANDABLE) IDEA

Elisa enacting revenge by chasing Rachel down the hall, still only wearing a towel = SEEMED LIKE A GOOD IDEA AT THE TIME

Elisa (not realizing that the male type was, in fact, still on the floor, waiting for the elevator) running right past him = BAD IDEA

Elisa ducking behind the wall and waiting for the male type to leave as Rachel mocked and mocked and mocked = THE BEST IDEA AVAILABLE

Writing this up for the ward journal = ???????????

Post-2010 Report

It's common for bloggers to take stock of their lives at the end of the year and write about their goals, hopes, etc for the upcoming. I am not going to do this because 1. 2010 kinda sucked and 2. 2011 is shaping up to be AWESOME but I don't want to jinx it.

However, it is quite important for me to take stock of my reading every year, so here are some graphs. I read 67 books this year, which is pretty good considering none of them were assignments for school, but pales in comparison to rock stars such as Janssen. As you can see, my split between kids/YA/adult books was reasonably even, with all three genres represented, although I showed a strong leaning towards books written for adults. This is because I am an adult.

NOTE: sometimes, it is hard to determine if a book is a children's book or a YA book. Obviously picture books are meant for children, but some chapter books can be kind of nebulous. I used a mathematically proven algorithm known as "thinking about how old the protagonist is and whether the book has adult themes, then guessing."

Clearly, I show a strong preference for fiction over non-fiction.

Shockingly, most of the books that I read, I liked. Spoiler alert--two of the books I did not like were Twilight. Additionally, contrary to popular belief, I do not ONLY read comic books.

This may or may not have been interesting to anyone who is not me.

Not Being Naked: day 16

Some days you try really hard to create an interesting new outfit (that is also warm) but you end up looking like Little Bo Peep.

brown skirt + brown peasant blouse + white leggings + black hooker boots + other orange sweater + calculator watch + wooden earrings (designed by my aunt who is an industrial designer in Sweden) = sheeptacular?

Also, the blood washed out quite nicely, thanks for asking.

These are the earrings. I love them. If my aunt had an etsy shop or some sort I would link to it, but she does not.
The Little Bo Peep thing was so funny at 6 in the morning that I decided to just go with it.

I also wore my (fake) SHEEPskin jacket!! Get it? Also, my scarf is the color of sheep's wool. The jacket is from the Target, I think (a really long time ago) and the scarf was knitted for me by the teenage friend of my host family in Japan. She heard I was coming and was like, I will knit her a scarf! It was really sweet but kinda overwhelming because I didn't know she was going to knit me a freaking scarf otherwise I would have made her something too. I didn't even know who she was until we went to visit her. I didn't really understand what was going on until she handed me the scarf and I was like oh how nice and then tried to hand it back to her and she was like no no it's for you. A complete stranger!! A whole scarf!! She was also really shy and kinda jumpy. I awkwardly plied with with the small gifts I had brought from Seattle but it was just overall really awkward and I felt terrible for breaking the elaborate rules of Japanese gift etiquette without meaning to. And that's the story of how I got this scarf.

Also, that same day I was talking to this girl and her family and I mixed up the Japanese word for bird with the word for monkey because they are kind of similar and my Japanese wasn't very good. And that's the story of how I told some very nice Japanese strangers that monkeys ate all the cherries off the cherry tree in my backyard and they definitely thought I was crazy and probably wished they could take back the scarf.

NOTE FIVE MINUTES LATER: Upon further reflection, the Japanese words for bird* and monkey** are not at all similar. In my defense, jet lag is a bitch.

*tori

**saru

Being in Pajamas: day 2

I am so sorry about this. I didn't get dressed today, either.

Excuses:

1. There is too much snow to drive anywhere (remember, we live on a hill).
2. Vacation is all about doing things you would not have time to do otherwise.

This is what passes for "things to do"

(sitting on couches, eating, watching movies, dog snuggling)

This is what passes for "getting dressed"

This is what passes for "hair"

Happy Ante-Thanksgiving, everybody!

Not Being Naked: day 4 (actual)

Fact: TAKING MIRROR PICTURES IS THE WORST

See why I usually cut out my face?

I really enjoyed today's outfit but it was pretty much IMPOSSIBLE to get a photo of it.

Especially because I wanted to include the earrings.

Full body shots are pretty much impossible.

Anyway, today was black t-shirt + short blue dress + black slip (that's not cheating, is it?) + fake snakeskin shoes + calculator watch (wal-mart) + turquoise earrings (gift from my godfather) = infinity/ten

1. Mostly I am just proud of myself for not spending the day in my pajamas.

You can see the shoes here. I wore the fake leather jacket as well but not when I was inside so it doesn't really count as part of the "outfit." Also, another disastrous mirror picture. Hello, stump legs + looking pregnant. Eyuck.

This is How I Prepare for Things.

Look! A baby teacup poodle!!OMG so cute asasdfhsdjkjdff.

A rather macabre thought process.

Today I listened to a How Stuff Works podcast entitled "How Cremation Works." A bit of a morbid topic, especially for a girl at a desk so far from the windows, but fascinating nonetheless. Also, keep in mind that I am very weird and intensely curious about everything. So, there you go.

Here are some interesting things one can do with your ashes:

1. Put them in a fireworks display. Pros: pretty awesome, and Hunter S. Thompson did it, and he is awesome. Cons: I am terrified of fireworks, so it would be kind of pointless (or maybe just too ironic?).

2. Have them crushed into a synthetic diamond. Pros: Wearable, inheritable. Cons: Until the Resurrection.

3. Have them mixed with ink or paint and made into a comic book or painting. Pros: It has the word "comic book" in it. Cons: What if the painting sucks? And of course you wouldn't want it to be a painting of YOU. That's just obnoxious.

4. Have them sent into space. Pros: Maybe your ashes would travel to an alien planet and they would be able to learn about humans or even bring you back to life! Cons: What if you just got a satellite all dusty?

This one is my most favorite of all:

5. There was this guy, an adventuring kind of guy who was there when they discovered the Titanic, who, when he died, told his family members and friends to take a teaspoon of his ashes with them whenever they travelled and scatter it somewhere cool. Pros: that is pretty much amazing. It's symbolic of your love for travel and adventure. It's a way for your loved ones to stay connected to you in a way that isn't too creepy (I guess it's a little creepy, but I think the awesome factor outweighs the creep factor). PLUS, when you get resurrected, the ashes will gather from ALL OVER THE WORLD like a superhero from a comic book. I just really like this idea so much.

I think I need to write a will, just in case.

These are my 10 favorite movies.

Fact: I have been working on this list since March. I was going to add a critical analysis of each movie explaining why it is good but the truth is, I don't have to explain anything to you. These are my ten favorite movies, and that's that.

1. Drop Dead Fred

This child was me. High voice? Check. Vivid imagination that got me into trouble? Check. Issues? Check.

Fortunately or unfortunately, I have pretty much turned into the adult version of Elizabeth as well ... before her cool transformation. I suppose now would be as good a time as any to become hot and confident, though, right? What do you think?

1. Harold and Maude

When I become old, my goal is to be EXACTLY like Maude.

Also, this movie has the best and most subtle comic timing in the history of comic timing.

1. Little Miss Sunshine

I like movies about families.

1. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

I like movies about people falling in love. That are not cheesy.

Also, you know that scene where Jim Carrey tells Kate Winslet that she's not ugly? That scene is my favorite scene in movie history. I tried to find it but alas, I could not. Go watch it.

1. Love Actually

I like movies where people's lives overlap in interesting ways. Especially British people.

1. New York Doll

I like movies that touch on the subject of religion without slipping into cliches.

Fact: this is the best Mormon movie ever made.

1. X-men

OMG I LOVE COMIC BOOKS. And Hugh Jackman. And Patrick Stewart.

1. When Harry Met Sally

I really like movies about friends who fall in love. Unfortunately.

1. Star Trek

I want to marry this movie. I just love Sci-Fi so, so much.

1. Return to Me

On the other hand, though, sometimes I just want to watch a girly movie with babies and romance and nuns and old people.

1. Beauty and the Beast

All nerdy girls love this movie. Belle is OUR Disney princess.

If you disagree with me about these movies, know that I am extremely on edge this week and may scream at you. That is all.

Ain't Nuthin' But a G Thang (I promise this will be the only pun)

I would like to register a complaint. If you shy away from TMI, stop reading now, and don't say I didn't warn you.

Dear Victoria's Secret,

I was about to make a joke about having found out your REAL "secret," but that's a little too punny, and I'm trying to get away from that (see above). So let me just start out by saying that I am really, really, disappointed in you guys. You have broken my heart. Or rather, the upper ventral region of my torso, in general.

For years, I have been a loyal customer. I do believe I have 300-400 dollars worth of VS swag in my top drawers. Expensive bras--many of them bought on sale, but nevertheless at a much higher cost than the cheap cotton slings one can buy for 3-10 dollars at Target or Wal-Mart. I believed in your product. I believed in you. I believed that you had the best interests of us top-heavy gals in mind. That was how I justified spending all that money at your product. I do not currently own any bras from any other stores.

I have, fortunately or unfortunately, been fulsome in the chest since I was about ten. For years, I tried to hide them using an ill-conceived combination of sports bras and big t-shirts, but when I was in college, I discovered that in some circles, having large breasts is considered an asset, one to be shared with the world. My best friend insisted that properly fitting bras can do wonders for one's figure and self-esteem, and because she shopped at Victoria's Secret, so did I.

I have been measured at Victoria's Secret quite a few times, and every time was told I was a D (in my early twenties) or a DD (later on). This I accepted without question. I was given very little information about how a bra is supposed to fit, and so accepted my VS bras without reservation.

Until last weekend. My girlfriends and I were laying about talking about our breasts (as we are wont to do) and Leah suggested we figure out how much our boobs weigh so that we can subtract it from the "weight to feel bad about" equation. I mentioned that, having the smallest breast size, mine would likely weigh the least.

Me: Isn't it weird that my bra size is so much smaller than yours?

Leah: What is it?

Me: DD.

Leah: What? No way.

Me: That's what they've always said at Vicky's.

Leah: Well, yeah. But how far do their sizes go?

Me: Up to a DD ... Oh my gosh.

Leah: (pokes me in the sternum, because that is what friends do) Um, your bra is NOT fitting you properly. That is supposed to be AGAINST your skin.

Me: WHAT?

Bridgette: It's a plot!

Leah: Why don't you try on one of B's bras. She's a G. See if it fits any better.

From my experience trying on my buxom friend's bra, and being fitted at Nordstrom (which carries bras nearly to the end of the alphabet), I discovered that I am not, in fact, a DD, but rather a G. Even the poor sap at Nordstrom, who I think must have been new, had trouble figuring out my size, but Sarah made it happen with her chutzpah and Nordstrom's measuring tape. But it's a sure thing now. I am a G.

aaa/aa/a/b/c/d/DD/e/f/G.

You bastards. I could see stuffing me into a bra ONE size too small, maybe, but THREE SIZES TOO SMALL?

Do I look like the Grinch to you?

I feel so lied to. To add insult to injury, it's not like there's a big market for used bras, even really expensive ones. I hope your water bras flood your headquarters and destroy your entire evil empire.

Also, Bravissimo, I think you have won yourselves a brand new customer.

Hs and Ks,

Elisa

Truly Outrageous

Raise your hand if you remember this show:

I don't remember it super well either, frankly. But I do remember that I had a Jem Girls lunch box. I wish I still had it ... it's probably worth money.

As it true with lots of pop music, all of Jem's songs pretty much sound the same.

The other night, my pals and I were hanging out in our pajamas, eating sugary cereal and watching 80s cartoons (you wish you were this cool). While we were watching the first few episodes of this fabulous show, we started discussing the incredible music videos that punctuate each episode. Sometimes two or three per half hour!

Bob: You realize that someone actually sat down and WROTE these songs?

Me: I can do that.

Bob: Could you?

Me: Give me a topic and I will write a pop song right now.

Bob: Before the end of this episode? [note: the episode was nearly over]

Me: Sure.

Bob: OK ... um ... the Burmese conflict!

I finished it while the credits were rolling. Thelma, I dedicate this pop song to you.

The Burmese Conflict

Once we lived in peace and harmony

in our homes and with our families

But then it became hard to be Burmese

Chorus:

Yeah, it's hard to be Burmese

out in the cold, we sob and sneeze.

Western world, we're on our knees

please bring justice to the Burmese

Once the Karens and Buddhists sat down to tea

united in our love of democracy

But then the violence of the BSPP

led to political hostility

Help our people to be free!

Chorus:

Yeah, it's hard to be Burmese

out in the cold, we sob and sneeze.

Western world, we're on our knees

please bring justice to the Burmese

I think I will drop out of school and become independently wealthy as a writer of pop songs. Don't worry, I will use my wealth to take down oppressive political regimes.

An Inventory.

Tonight I did an inventory of my life. I do this when I start to feel bored or annoyed with my goals and accomplishments, which honestly, isn't super often. I don't share the whole list with anyone because it's too personal and even (especially?) those of you who love me the most would judge me for it. But, allow me to present a numerical break-down.

Years I have lived: 25

Years I will live according to this website: 105 (Word of Wisdom, biatches!)

Years I have left: 80

Goals I have:

Total: 82

Accomplished: 12

Goals that require me to be married or close to it: 5

Goals that require me to have children: 2

Goals that I can do whenever the hell I want: 63

So you know, there's that.

If I start talking a lot about Scrabble tournaments and hot air balloon rides and travelling to the East China Sea,* you'll now know where it's coming from.

*These are all actual life goals.

“The hardest of all is learning to be a well of affection, and not a fountain; to show them we love them not when we feel like it, but when they do.”

--Nan Fairbrother

Image courtesy of http://garfieldminusgarfield.net

According to the Google Analytics, my readership has gone down 33% in the past few weeks. That's because I have not written anything of substance for several weeks, and the few entries I have published have been met with scornful, bitter, vitriolic disbelief (I'm looking at you, Christina).

Here's the really weird thing, though. I didn't blog not* because I was too busy being sick or working or having WAY TOO MUCH fun, and I didn't not blog because I was trying to spare the sanity of the people who had been following my blog when I had been writing every day (although maybe some of you appreciated that, yes?). I didn't blog because I ran out of things to say.

For some reason I spent a fortnight not wanting to write. Or rather, not feeling like I had anything to write about.

Dry spell is over, kids. Welcome back to my head. And if by some chance some of that 33% never returns, like maybe I broke their hearts, good riddance. Those of you who are reading now, now I know who my real friends are.

I was being histrionic for humor's sake. Did it work?

Anyway, today I spent a romantic evening at the beach with my dog. And I'm not being sarcastic, either. I have forgotten what pleasant company I am (Sego's not bad either). It's been a while since I have done something nice on my own. Riding the bus to work doesn't count.

In fact, I had planned to go to a showing of Shakespeare in the Park, but I went to Richmond Beach SALTWATER park instead of Richmond Beach COMMUNITY Park, which until today I didn't know existed. They really ought to consider re-naming one or the other. By the time I figured out my mistake, the play was halfway over, so I stayed at the beach, read an amazing book and watched the sun set. It was perfect.

I had planned to go to the play with a friend, but she was sick and needed to rest. I texted a couple of people at the last minute and asked if they wanted to go, but no one was available. In the end, though, I'm really glad I went alone. Had I gone to the wrong park with someone else I would have felt obligated to make it right. But me and Sego can enjoy ourselves pretty much anywhere ... especially any beach. I love the beach.

It's funny, the older I get, the more I relish being independent and alone. I always assume that as I grew up and continued to be unmarried, that I would become more and more desperate for companionship of any sort and less inclined towards being alone. Quite the opposite. The older I get, the more I enjoy only having myself to answer to when it comes to how I spend my time. You know what I feel like doing today? Going to the beach and reading a comic book. What did you do today?

I doubt I will ever learn to love my independence so much that I would choose to be alone rather than get married. However, sometimes I worry that I will be hurt so many times that I will stop acting on my feelings and lose all chances at happiness. Sorry, that was edging towards the dramatic again.

There was some connection I was making while I was sitting there on that bench overlooking the ocean, some connection between my love of being alone and experiencing beautiful moments by myself, and the inability I have to keep someone around me long enough to want to stay, but now that it's dark and I'm at home I think I just sound like a crazy person.

I was thinking about the quote listed above, I believe, and how I have always felt like it was written for me. I love everything in the universe and everyone who enriches my life so much, sometimes I worry about running out of steam. Or, I worry that my love is poison and drives people away, because so many people I have deeply loved have screwed** me over in the end. However, I have convinced myself that it's really just a numbers game. If you love everybody you meet, eventually some of the bad ones are going to get in there. Maybe it's even more likely. Whatever.

One thing I do know for sure is that although some people may think it's sort of overwhelming, the amount of affection I throw at people like Mardi Gras beads (for less than what they cost there, even), I doubt that it's ever going to change even though I sometimes wish it would. I have never regretted anything I have done, only the things I was too scared to do.

Know what I really think? I think the moment that I am really really happy with where I am and have resigned myself to happy hermitic spinsterhood, if that's what God likes for me, that's when some jerk is going to rumble in on a vintage motorcycle and mess things up.

I hope this post was more entertaining than a series of photographs.

*Or, "I didn't not blog?" Which makes more sense? Oh gosh. I'm rusty.

**This was originally a different word, but so far my blog has been F-word-free, and if I do break that streak I want it to be for something really really good.

The Seven Deadly Sins, Day 4: Wrath

Sorry, guys. Apparently I took the "sloth" thing a little too far yesterday and forgot to post. Fail. To be fair, I was helping my aunt clean her house and then walking around Greenlake with Judith, so it's not like I was lazing about getting fat. Anyway, I thought about posting this one retroactively but I think I will just post twice today. Consider this a day of many sins.

Were you mad that I didn't post yesterday? Probably not. But if you were, that's a sin. The sin of wrath (which is basically anger) is one of the SEVEN DEADLY SINS. I assume that righteous anger is not a sin, however I also assume that only Jesus has truly righteous anger. What do you think?

In honor of wrath, here are some things that really piss me off.

1. Bad parenting.

2. Bland food.

3. When people lend my stuff out to other people without asking me.

4. Being asked about my finances by adults I don't know.

5. Overly aggressive salespeople.

6. People who insist on being exclusive for no good reason.

7. Capital One. It's story for another time, but those bastards are going down, just as soon as I draft that letter to the Attorney General. Hey, guys. Remember how you gave a third party company permission to withdraw money from my checking account without my permission? REMEMBER THAT??

8. Bad writers who act like they are really good writers (I'm looking at you, Nicholas Sparks).

9. Misogyny.

10. Homophobia.

11. Eh, bigotry in general.

12. People who are so loyal to one genre that they close their mind to all other genres. I'm think of Indie Music, but there are lots of examples.

13. Stretch marks.

Um, that's all I got.

I Can't Believe I Haven't Blogged About X, Day 7: My Butt

Perhaps the fact that I have yet to blog about this until today is not so shocking? Oh, well.

When I die, assuming I do not outlive my good friend Ashley, she plans to eulogize me as follows:

"Elisa had a gigantic rack, and no butt."

Then she will sit down and people will wonder if they are being punk'd. I love the idea of my last concrete influence on earth being a surreal experience. I like to make life a little bit surreal every day as it is. Which is why I gave this eulogy the green light when Ashley and I were serving as missionaries together in Pécs.

She's right, unfortunately. I am overall a curvaceous person, but my butt is embarrassingly flat. This breaks my heart a little bit every day. This is also the reason why I don't wear pants very often.

Sadly, the only way to obtain a more voluptuous backside involves gaining weight, and I certainly don't want to do that.

I am resigned to a life of never fully enjoying the following songs (NSFW):

This one is by far the best video.

Luckily, I can still enjoy this because it makes no reference to size. Good thing, because this one of the best movies of all time.

I Can't Believe I Haven't Blogged About X, Day 3: Baseball Metaphors for Love AKA the Three Strikes Rule

A while ago, Bob and I had the following conversation. To provide some background without giving anything away, I had met a boy whom I thought was cool, and then changed my mind about wanting to pursue him (this will all make perfect sense in a minute).

Me: Yeah, no. I'm not going for that anymore.

B: How come?

Me: That was strike three. He's out.

B: I beg your pardon?

Me: You know, my Three Strikes rule. I've told you about that.

B: No, you haven't.

Me: Seriously? Well, did you read my blog entry about it?

B: (silently pitying me for going senile at such a young age)

Whoops. I really thought I had blogged about this at least once. But I checked the archives and ... guess not. Well, here you go. This has the unfortunate potential of being one of those blog entries that is not interesting to anyone but me.

I have a nasty habit of pursuing men long after they have proved to be bad news. Sometimes, they start out nice and then turn mean, and yet I keep mentally returning to the memory of the initial niceness, and inwardly insist that they will likely turn nice again. This never happens.

Other times, the guy is mean to begin with, but I convince myself either that:

1. He is only mean because he is so troubled, and my love will save him OR

2. He is mean, yes, but that only makes it even more worthwhile and exciting when he IS nice and is therefore worth waiting around for.

I don't have to tell you that these never end well, either.

The Three Strikes Rule is something I came up with to combat this irrational and unwise tendency of mine. I am aware it's not exactly reinventing the wheel, but I have bad taste in men*, and for now this is the best I can do.

The Three Strikes Rule is thus:

A boy I think I might be interested in pursuing gets two free passes to pull a boneheaded move (with or without proof of intent). After the third, I walk. Stipulations:

1. The move in question can be a sin of omission (ignoring me at a social event when he knew I was there) or commission (saying or doing something intentionally rude or mean).

2. As I stated above, there needn't be any concrete proof of intent, but the move must be genuinely hurtful and not just a product of my sky-high expectations (not that they're actually sky-high, let's be honest). For example, failing to buy me a present for some pointless occasion is not a strike. Flirting with another girl in front of me is.

3. Any act of physical violence counts as two. And yeah, I know that sounds soft. I never said it was a perfect system.

4. Sometimes the act doesn't have to be hurtful, but rather simple proof that said male is either not interested or interested in other people. Flirting with other women in front of me also falls in this category.

5. "You're out" doesn't have to mean forever, it simply indicates that the subject is not worthy of attention for now. The whole thing restarts after an indeterminate period of time.

I have been honing and practicing the system for approximately a year, and so far it is going OK. The really funny thing is, I don't like or understand baseball at all.

Also, if you are looking for some interesting reading, I highly recommend looking up Wikipedia's article entitled, "Baseball metaphors for sex."

You're welcome.

*With a few exceptions. You know who you are.

I Can't Believe I Haven't Blogged About X, Day 2: Science Fiction

This may shock you, because it kinda shocked me, but I have NEVER WRITTEN ANYTHING ABOUT SCIENCE FICTION ON MY BLOG. This is one of those massive, embarrassing oversights that needs to be corrected, STAT. It's true, I have mentioned offhand my love of Star Wars and Star Trek a couple times, but, much like my ode to sandwiches yesterday, which I hope you all enjoyed (And thanks for the recipe, Aims!) I have not yet given my love of science fiction its due. So, here it is.

I love any movie or television series that is set in space. Or any movie that centers around science fiction, however remotely. You know Hugh Dancy's character in The Jane Austen Book Club? Pretty much my dream dude.

My family didn't have a lot of traditions when I was growing up. At least, not ones that I can remember. However, one weekly tradition that I still recall with fondness was sitting together in our living room and watching Star Trek: the Next Generation every week. My parents got the off-white couch that was actually a hide-a-bed (which was so heavy that we cursed its existence every time we moved ... which was often) and I got the green bean bag chair which was filled with ACTUAL BEANS. Around season five of the show, the beans started leaking out and driving my mother crazy. She took to vacuuming during the closing theme each week.

Non-believers will mock me for saying this, but Star Trek really does have something for everyone. In any given episode of TNG, there was usually a romantic/human interest subplot and an action/adventure subplot. There would be moments of humor and tenderness and tension all packed into one glorious hour. My dad is very much a heavy-handed crime show/sci-fi kind of guy, whereas my mom leans much more towards light-hearted mystery novels and romantic comedies. At the time, I was like six and enjoyed anything with interesting-looking people that I could pretend to be on the playground. We all thoroughly enjoyed Star Trek. It was a really, really good show.

I never watched Star Trek: the Original Series, but I watched Next Generation and Voyager faithfully. My parents were really into Deep Space Nine, but when that show was on the air I was too immature to understand the slightly more mature thematic elements that characterized DS9, and was thus easily bored by it. By the time Enterprise came along, I was living on my own without a television. I would say that my love of Star Trek lay dormant for many years, for although I watched the one season I had of it on DVD when no one else was home (until an insane klepto roommate made off with it a few years ago) I never really admitted to liking Star Trek in public. Then, one day, I saw this preview at the Cinemark 16 in Provo, Utah and I very nearly pissed my pants with excitement. J.J. Abrams, I may not love all you do, man (*cough cough LOST cough cough*) but thank you, good sir, for making Star Trek sexy again. Assuming it ever was.

The truth is, I have always really loved and admired the Star Trek universe, and by extension all Science Fiction universes, even though some of its most ardent devotees are admittedly kinda crazy. My dad made me watch Star Wars on a fairly regular basis as a child because he felt I was too "full of passion" (probably true) and needed to be reminded of the danger of succumbing to pure emotions such as anger. He also made me meditate all the time. I wish I were joking. Perhaps this tainted my fond memories of Star Wars with a little bit of daddy issues, but I still really enjoy the movies, so don't worry. I plan to continue the Thanksgiving tradition I totally stole from my Provo family (specifically Ekitzel) of watching all three Star Wars movies after Thanksgiving dinner (the original theatrical versions, for crying out loud). Future husband, you have been warned.

I think the reason why Star Trek appeals to me slightly more than Star Wars is that it is more orderly and humane, and thus a lot less realistic. Everything in the Star Trek world is clean and generally peaceful, and even when people die, there isn't any blood. That was the kind of life I craved during my topsy turvy childhood. Star Wars is messy and scuffed and people are just as complex and greedy as they are in real life. It was still escapist, mind you, but slightly less so. In the Star Trek future they don't even have money! It's a liberal dreamland!

Oh, my gosh. Is Star Trek the reason I became a Socialist?

Star Trek is the future I wish for, even though Star Wars is the future we are more likely to get.