procrastination
You want to know what I should be doing right now?
-Getting engaged?
Nope, I'll leave that to everyone and their dog.
-Emotionally processing The Bachelorette happenings from tonight?
That can happen on my 20 hour car ride to Idaho.
-Apologize to my mom for sticking my feet in her face during The Bachelorette because she found out who wins?
I actually really should get on that...but that's not the answer I'm looking for.
-Putting away the pile of clean laundry sitting on my floor?
You're getting closer!
-Packing for my trip to Idaho?
Anyone who knows me knows I can't pack before midnight anyways, and I shockingly don't have to be anywhere until 10 tomorrow so I'll go all night long if you're in too.
I'm going to Idaho to watch one of my best friends get married. And it's so exciting because I played cards with both of them on the first day we all met. I have watched them fall in love. I have seen her hesitation and his patience. I have seen God's plan work through all circumstances that wanted to point otherwise.
Idaho is going to be wonderful. And even though The Bachelorette makes me want to second-guess the existence of love, thinking of my beautiful friends' story makes me believe again. Here I am with them, before he convinced her to get out of the dreaded FriendZone. Way back in spring of 2010.
So this post is in honor of love & weddings & WEDDING DANCES (take a guess at which of the three is my favorite).
I'm not going to lie, my first few dance experiences were not...ideal.
Like in sixth grade when I begged my dad to take me to the rodeo dance in Minnesota because I was sure I'd have a blast and/or meet a boy and/or fall in love (think that Sweet Home Alabama dance scene with Reese Witherspoon and whats-his-face), but I really just ended up standing outside with my uncle and dad, watching my cousin dance with every boy there, coughing up the smoke, not even wanting to join the crowd of drunk small towners stumbling over each other.
Or my youth leader's wedding a few years ago when she wanted me to meet one of the groomsmen in the wedding. She promised me he'd seen Facebook pictures and was looking forward to meeting me. To the embarrassingly immature girl that I was, this translated as "you're going to marry this boy named Devon even though he lives in Pennsylvania and this one night of dancing with you will definitely be enough to win his heart he may even propose tonight I wonder if he bought a ring already!" Unfortunately, there was a bit of a mix-up with this...Devon character...that included him thinking my best friend was me and asking her to dance with him and me standing on the dance floor alone and nothing ever happening at all.
OR the first wedding dance in which I was a bridesmaid. Adrenaline was rushing, and there was this GINGER groomsman. Clearly the best dancers out there, we struck up quite a connection amidst the cha-cha slides and conga lines and dance-offs (that I won by the way). After a Cinderella-like final slow dance together, we proceeded to become friends on facebook, talk on the phone every day, have the most awkward dates EVER when he finally came to visit me, and...never talk again.
He even de-friended me on Facebook.
Gingers.
Don't get me wrong, my point of these stories it not to obtain your pity.
My sole point is that I won the dance-off against the ginger.
Does anything else even matter?
Of course it does. Marriage matters. Love matters. This will be my third time watching a best friend get married and it doesn't really get any better than this......
Okay I can't handle sentimental stuff right now. I had coffee at 3 pm and my toes are still wiggling. I want to say something spiritual before I go but the only thing I'm thinking about is how I am about to eat this pillow next to me because I'm so hungry.
IF ONLY THE DIET GODS DIDN'T WARN US TO NEVER EAT LATE AT NIGHT!
I was also just informed that I'm speaking at youth group the Wednesday after I get back from Idaho. Last time I spoke a girl left in the middle because she "didn't feel well". Really a self-confidence booster for this next time. My goal this time is to make someone puke from conviction.
For the first time, ever.
I also just realized I still have my clean clothes on the floor, acting like they own the place.
I literally could go run seven miles right now, that's how much energy I have.
I wonder if anyone made it to this part of the blog, or if you stopped reading by now. You've probably all stopped.
Man, I could say anything I want to right now!
I ate 10 hamburger slice pickles today at lunch!
I have three gigantic blisters on my toe that I have popped twice!
Hahahaha, no one is reading this right now!
I'm sitting here, staring at my stomach, wondering what it would be like to be pregnant. Something inside of you that isn't you. It moves on its own. IT COULD COME OUT AT ANY TIME. Without warning! Without permission! It is like a parasite!
Well. This is definitely a blog posts for the history books. You can show this to your children one day and tell them, "This girl represents what happens to the procrastinators. Be warned, dear children. And do your English homework if you don't want to turn into a wedding dance failure who blogs of self-pity and third wheels."
Morals of this blog:
-Don't read this blog.
-Pack before midnight.
-Missionary dating is bad unless it's with Jef from The Bachelorette (he puts the "nom" in Mormon).
-Don't give Whitney coffee.
-Don't look at Whitney's toes.
-If you do, don't laugh at them or I'll blog bad things about you.
-Don't teach your nanny boys Silly Songs with Larry while you're outside on a walk. Because that will be the ONLY TIME that cute runners run by. At which time you'll have to make the decision of whether to keep singing loud & proud, or do the awkward, obvious, and pointless fade-out.
What better way to end than with a picture of my favorite animal?
Here she is. I choose to believe she is real because I cannot imagine the feeling of the world doubting your very existence. What a horrible life.
See ya after the potato state, world.
 |
| compartmentalizing my responsibilities to the "I don't care" box of my brain |
-Getting engaged?
Nope, I'll leave that to everyone and their dog.
-Emotionally processing The Bachelorette happenings from tonight?
That can happen on my 20 hour car ride to Idaho.
-Apologize to my mom for sticking my feet in her face during The Bachelorette because she found out who wins?
I actually really should get on that...but that's not the answer I'm looking for.
-Putting away the pile of clean laundry sitting on my floor?
You're getting closer!
-Packing for my trip to Idaho?
 |
Anyone who knows me knows I can't pack before midnight anyways, and I shockingly don't have to be anywhere until 10 tomorrow so I'll go all night long if you're in too.
I'm going to Idaho to watch one of my best friends get married. And it's so exciting because I played cards with both of them on the first day we all met. I have watched them fall in love. I have seen her hesitation and his patience. I have seen God's plan work through all circumstances that wanted to point otherwise.
Idaho is going to be wonderful. And even though The Bachelorette makes me want to second-guess the existence of love, thinking of my beautiful friends' story makes me believe again. Here I am with them, before he convinced her to get out of the dreaded FriendZone. Way back in spring of 2010.
 |
| for anyone looking for a chaperone for their dates, I am a wonderful third wheeler |
So this post is in honor of love & weddings & WEDDING DANCES (take a guess at which of the three is my favorite).
 |
| jump roping glow sticks |
 |
| intoxicated solely on MARRIAGE. and a really good beat. |
 |
| most are scared to dance with me, like poor Grant here... |
 |
| an older photo, towards the beginning of my evolution to my obnoxious, partner-less dance days |
Like in sixth grade when I begged my dad to take me to the rodeo dance in Minnesota because I was sure I'd have a blast and/or meet a boy and/or fall in love (think that Sweet Home Alabama dance scene with Reese Witherspoon and whats-his-face), but I really just ended up standing outside with my uncle and dad, watching my cousin dance with every boy there, coughing up the smoke, not even wanting to join the crowd of drunk small towners stumbling over each other.
Or my youth leader's wedding a few years ago when she wanted me to meet one of the groomsmen in the wedding. She promised me he'd seen Facebook pictures and was looking forward to meeting me. To the embarrassingly immature girl that I was, this translated as "you're going to marry this boy named Devon even though he lives in Pennsylvania and this one night of dancing with you will definitely be enough to win his heart he may even propose tonight I wonder if he bought a ring already!" Unfortunately, there was a bit of a mix-up with this...Devon character...that included him thinking my best friend was me and asking her to dance with him and me standing on the dance floor alone and nothing ever happening at all.
OR the first wedding dance in which I was a bridesmaid. Adrenaline was rushing, and there was this GINGER groomsman. Clearly the best dancers out there, we struck up quite a connection amidst the cha-cha slides and conga lines and dance-offs (that I won by the way). After a Cinderella-like final slow dance together, we proceeded to become friends on facebook, talk on the phone every day, have the most awkward dates EVER when he finally came to visit me, and...never talk again.
He even de-friended me on Facebook.
Gingers.
Don't get me wrong, my point of these stories it not to obtain your pity.
My sole point is that I won the dance-off against the ginger.
Does anything else even matter?
Of course it does. Marriage matters. Love matters. This will be my third time watching a best friend get married and it doesn't really get any better than this......
Okay I can't handle sentimental stuff right now. I had coffee at 3 pm and my toes are still wiggling. I want to say something spiritual before I go but the only thing I'm thinking about is how I am about to eat this pillow next to me because I'm so hungry.
IF ONLY THE DIET GODS DIDN'T WARN US TO NEVER EAT LATE AT NIGHT!
I was also just informed that I'm speaking at youth group the Wednesday after I get back from Idaho. Last time I spoke a girl left in the middle because she "didn't feel well". Really a self-confidence booster for this next time. My goal this time is to make someone puke from conviction.
For the first time, ever.
I also just realized I still have my clean clothes on the floor, acting like they own the place.
I literally could go run seven miles right now, that's how much energy I have.
I wonder if anyone made it to this part of the blog, or if you stopped reading by now. You've probably all stopped.
Man, I could say anything I want to right now!
I ate 10 hamburger slice pickles today at lunch!
I have three gigantic blisters on my toe that I have popped twice!
Hahahaha, no one is reading this right now!
I'm sitting here, staring at my stomach, wondering what it would be like to be pregnant. Something inside of you that isn't you. It moves on its own. IT COULD COME OUT AT ANY TIME. Without warning! Without permission! It is like a parasite!
Well. This is definitely a blog posts for the history books. You can show this to your children one day and tell them, "This girl represents what happens to the procrastinators. Be warned, dear children. And do your English homework if you don't want to turn into a wedding dance failure who blogs of self-pity and third wheels."
Morals of this blog:
-Don't read this blog.
-Pack before midnight.
-Missionary dating is bad unless it's with Jef from The Bachelorette (he puts the "nom" in Mormon).
-Don't give Whitney coffee.
-Don't look at Whitney's toes.
-If you do, don't laugh at them or I'll blog bad things about you.
-Don't teach your nanny boys Silly Songs with Larry while you're outside on a walk. Because that will be the ONLY TIME that cute runners run by. At which time you'll have to make the decision of whether to keep singing loud & proud, or do the awkward, obvious, and pointless fade-out.
What better way to end than with a picture of my favorite animal?
Here she is. I choose to believe she is real because I cannot imagine the feeling of the world doubting your very existence. What a horrible life.
 |
| i believe in you, Nessie |
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