Sunday, February 27, 2011

hooligans, at the ridge, with a snowman head.

It's Saturday in Rexburg.
Well now it's technically Sunday.

My sister and I were lounging around the house and watching GLEE on my laptop out in our living room. It was about 12 am. Curfew. The tow cars were roaming around the parking lot looking for cars without permits, boys were scattering from the girls apartments and others were screeching into parking spots and running up to their apartments to be home in time.

When all of a sudden we heard a loud CRASH. Loud enough to wake the dead.
Not to mention it interrupted Puck's cover of "Fat Bottom Girls" in an attempt to woo his current crush, Lauren Zizes.

I was a little freaked out, but I figured it was some crash outside.
Katie shot up like a bat out of h-e-double hockey sticks.

WHAT WAS THAT? I'M GETTING A KNIFE (Katie with a knife? Probably scarier than the noise of the crash).
She ran to the knife block, grabbed a knife (as promised) and headed down the hall checking each bedroom to make sure there weren't any intruders.

Checked the first four bedrooms. They were good to go. The door on my bedroom was closed.
With knife in hand and in position to shank if necessary, she kicked the door open.

"Christine. ohmygosh. ohmygosh. ohmygosh. comehere comehere comehere."

I walked in to behold this lovely site.

what. on. earth.

We were freaked out. Can you blame us? We called the emergency number for our manager. No answer. Ran downstairs to our RA. No answer. Ran back to my room. Called the manager again. Called theRA again. Ran back to the room again.

Somewhere in the runaround I noticed this.

That's funny. I didn't recall eating carrots in my bedroom anytime recently. And I especially don't remember dropping any on the floor. But I was in too much of a frenzy to really think through it.

We still couldn't get a hold of anyone.

I started to diall 911...but wasn't really sure if it was emergency noteworthy.

We called our only other roommate in town. Well, Katherine did.

I ran back to my room. And noticed this.

And then I put the pieces together.

Carrot+giant snowball=Snowman head.

You got it ladies and gentlemen. Someone threw a snowman head at my third story bedroom window and promptly through two panes of glass and onto my floor. We found out later that their goal was to knock down the giant icicle in front of my roommates window, but severely missed instead.

glass was everywhere.

My manager texted us. The RA ran upstairs. And our roommate said that we should call the cops. So we did.

They came. Took some pictures. Called the manger. And got the name of the culprit.

Apparently when the glass shattered, he made a run for it. Little did he know there was a witness. The towing man. Who chased him down. Got his name. And said that if he didn't turn himself in, he would.

My roommate, sister, and I cleaned up the glass.

Garbage bagged and cardboard boxed the window up.

And shut the door.

You better believe I'm not sleeping in my room tonight.

Not to worry. All is well in Rexburg.

Friday, February 25, 2011

rexburg for the win

Rexburg is known for a lot of things.

It's the home to BYU-Idaho.
Cranks out the most engagements and marriages in record time.
Nothing is open past 11 pm.

But I would say the thing that it is most known for and its greatest skill would be its ability to turn an entire town into an ice rink in the blink of an eye.

Rexburg, Idaho has the most random weather patterns I have ever experienced. And I'm convinced it would take home the blue ribbon if it ever went up in a global competition.

It's usually bitter cold throughout the week, way nice on Saturday and a majority of Sunday, and then Sunday night there's a freak snow storm. Just in time to turn all of Rexburg into a lethal ice rink as students brave the sidewalks on their way to class. Which only Kristi Yamaguchi or Scott Hamilton could ever appreciate.

My teacher once told me that the city of Rexburg has two concers that when combined turn into one giant problem.

1. They don't want to ruin the streets.
2. They don't want to ruin their snowplows.

So when they go out in the morning to "plow" the roads, they don't scrape right against the skreet. No, they scrape about an inch above the skreet. Thus creating a sheer sheet of ice, encompassing the entire town. Perfect for slipping.

I bet they could have saved money if they purchased a zamboni instead.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Every February, you'll be my Valentine.

I'm sorry that this post is coming a little late, but I wanted to recount the Valentine's Day events from this year.

My oh so gracious parents put money into my account so that my sister and I could go get something nice and delicious for Valentine's dinner. Neither of us really felt like going to a sit down restaurant. Since everywhere was sure to be super busy.

So we went down to Quiznos for dinner and then WalMart for some Vday treats. We got it all to go so we could go home and eat.

Now, backtrack for just a second.

The car that my sister and I have up here is a trooper. It's a '94 and still runs well, considering how old it is. The odometer has already been looped and is well on its way to getting up to 200,000 miles.
The gas gauge has never worked incredibly well and it always runs for quite a while even though it says empty. And, when it's cold, it's even more off.

So the needle had been on empty, for let's say, close to a week. I knew we had to get gas one of these days. My sister, Katherine, mentioned as we were pulling out of WalMart that we needed to make sure that we get gas tomorrow. Good thought.

Then I said "Sometime I just want to run the car completely bone dry just to see how many miles this thing can TRULY get."

More famous last words had never been spoken before.

We headed home (we even flipped a U turn RIGHT IN FRONT OF A GAS SATION after giving the poor dancing statue of liberty advertising Tax season a zebra cake) and as we were headed up the hill to our apartment...something in the car changed. It started slowing down and wouldn't speed up if I pushed the gas. It may have been making a weird noise or two....I can't remember.

"Just try to make it home and then we'll go get gas somehow" -my sister Katherine.

Make it up a hill that we are already losing speed on?! If only.

Now my car and car repair knowledge is beyond limited. I can put gas in it, windshield wiper fluid (if really necessary) air in the tires, and that's about it.

So I pulled over and turned the car off. I tried to start it a few times, and it would rumble but not turn all the way over. The lights and everything still worked, so we had that in our favor. It wasn't an engine or electrical problem.

We called our roommate.
She came and got me.
Took me to get gas.
Katie waited in the car that was parked on the side of the road next to a sign that said "NO PARKING".
Turned the hazard lights on.

We went down the street and got a portable gas tank holder thing and put one gallon in it. It's all it would hold.

We were on our way back to rescue the car. I was still hoping that there wasn't something else wrong with the car, even though I was pretty sure it was only a gas. As I've mentioned before, I'm a perpetual worrier.

As we were heading up the hill, I noticed some flashing lights. That were slightly brighter and redder than our flashing lights.

I said to my roommate, Audrey, "I wonder if a policeman stopped?"

"No. I'm sure it's just your hazards"

Well as we topped the hill, sure enough a cop car was there.

He noticed the car with the flashing lights on and stopped to make sure everything was OK. He also wanted to make sure we weren't lost. My sister had SO MUCH JUNK in the car from being at school so long and moving around so much, that he thought we were moving and maybe didn't know where we were. Such kind law enforcement in south eastern Idaho.

Audrey and I pulled up with the little red gas holder to the rescue.

"So...does your gauge not work....or did you forget to check it?" Mr. Cop

"Uh.....both...." me.

We put the gas in our tank and it puttered back to life. And yes, we went directly to the gas station and filled up our faithful little car.

Saturday, February 05, 2011

tender mercies.

I know that a lot of people don't believe in God.

But I do.
And this is my blog. Which means that I can write whatever I want.

(At the risk of offense, several wise men have once said that being offended is a choice.
Something that I am still working on.)

I firmly believe, and nobody will ever change my mind, that God's hand is in our lives. That He allows things to happen so that we can feel of His love.

Even something as simple as the thought to send a friend an email, thank them for something, and then go to their blog and read a post that was exactly related to the email that you just sent.

What do I call that? A tender mercy.

And since this is my blog, I'm allowed to be a cryptic as I want. But I know that at least two people (besides myself) out there know what I'm talking about.

thank you.
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