h2ohhh

If any of you are like me, then you like your diet coke fixing.  Or diet whatever.  I enjoy diet coke.  But I really enjoy diet mountain dew code red.  I always feel slightly ridiculous buying it at the grocery store because it seems like a bit of an odd soda choice, but I like it so much that I keep buying it. 

But here's my dilemma.  I know that I shouldn't be drinking near as much diet soda as I do.  But I can't help it.  I've tried to stop.  So many times.  I remember thinking that missionaries weren't allowed to drink soda because the missionaries at home NEVER DID.  And I was even a little sad thinking that when I embarked on my mission I wouldn't be able to have a single sip of diet soda for 18 months.   Not that it was that big of a deal, I got over it pretty quickly.  But you can imagine my delight when at my first meal in the MTC there was a coke soda fountain machine in the cafeteria.  Caffeine free only of course.  I drink caffeine.  A lot of members don't (to each his own) but I guess they like to cater to the masses. 

I try to drink more water.  I really do.  But when the fridge at work is fully stocked with both and I can drink water for free at home, I tend to go for diet coke at work.  The only problem is, is that I still buy diet soda when I go to the grocery store, so I'm also drinking diet soda at home. 

I don't even drink regular soda that often.  It's too sweet.  I'll drink it every now and then, but not very often.  Besides, I'd rather eat my calories than eat them.   

I drink water too.  Just not as much as I should.

I've heard all of the health dangers that come with drinking diet soda.  But you know what?  Cheeseburgers and bacon are bad for your health too.  But they're still delicious and we still eat them.  

I will admit though that I can do my part to drink more water.  So here it is, my pledge to drink more water and less diet soda.   

dear boys

I stumbled across this blog the other day after checking up on my old roommate and friend.

I have a fascination with the blogging community.  I really like when I get inspired, especially to write, when perusing through others thoughts and little ditties.

Here's one that I wanted to have a go at, and besides.  I couldn't resist the cleverly designed corresponding button.





Dear boys,
I hope one day I birth a lot of you.  I want as many boys as possible and as few girls as possible.  Seriously.  Like four boys and two girls.  And I'd really like a boy first.  I've always wanted an older brother, so I figure the next best thing is to give a daughter an older brother.  So keep that in mind.

Dear boys,
Do you know how easy it is for you to look good?  Seriously.  All you have to wear is a nice fitting pair of jeans and something as simple as an equally good fitting plain colored tshirt and BAM.  Looking good.  Girls have to worry about soooo much more.

Dear boys,
As I've mentioned before, black square glasses never hurt anyone.  If I end up dating you my only requirement will be that you never wear your contacts and only your glasses.

Dear boys,
It doesn't take much to impress a girl or make her feel important/special.  Most are pretty simple.  Take out in the park is fine.  I know the Bachelor would tell you otherwise.  That dates must include private helicopter rides overlooking a vast mountain range ending in a picnic with a gourmet meal that you single handedly cooked while simultaneously flying said private helicopter.  But have you noticed the success rate of the Bachelor?  I think you'd have better odds going into business with Donald Trump. 

Dear a boy,
Did you fall in a mine shaft?  Did you just come out of a coma?  Were you attacked by a werewolf?






 

what's a girl to do?

So....
Confession time.
I'm not much of a girly girl.  Like not at all.  I own more chucks and vans than high heels.  I think I own one possibly two dresses.  Four at the very most, but I really only wear one of them, and I've only worn it once.

My daily make up routine consists of mascara.  Sometimes.  And on a really good day, eye shadow.  But let's not get crazy.

I got blind sided the other day and went to a Mary Kay party.  I wanted to crawl into a corner and silently weep because their skin regimen consists of THIRTEEN steps.  THIRTEEN.  Including five eye creams.  I don't know why you'd even use one eye cream (I don't even know what eye cream is, I mean obviously it's lotion for the eyes (or rather the skin around the eyes.....?!??!??!!!) but what purpose does it serve?  Can't that skin be lump summed into the face and therefore face lotion would also work?!) let alone five.  Woof. 

And all of that is BEFORE the foundation and powder and blush and three eye shadows and everything like such as.  Come on. 

I'm sorry, but I'd rather sleep an extra hour and I'd rather put that money aside for a house mortgage.  And just forget about transporting all of that makeup around in a make up trunk on wheels, because we all know how I feel about rollie backpacks. 

I've only recently ventured in to the world of earrings and nail painting.  I still feel a little awkward doing it.  Like it's not really me, ya know?

I have some friends and old roommates that totally rock the glammed up look.  Everything possible including big poofy hair, because you know what they say.  The bigger the hair, the closer to God. 

But that's them, and they look good.   I feel like if I were to go out in heels and teased hair and big flashy jewelry people would run in sheer terror.

But why do those things have to define femininity? 

Now, I wouldn't say I'm a tom boy either.  I don't love sports.  I'll play, but I'm not going to promise mad skillz.  I also think that I still can't quite pull off every look on this web site, but it seems to fit me and my personality much more.

So maybe I can't rock heels and a little black dress.  But rather skinny jeans, vans and a plaid shirt.  While still managing to look like a girl.

Did you know that I'm in love/obsessed with plaid?  Serisouly.  It's ridiculous.

I'm a sucker for boys that pull off plaid.  I'd be 100% done for if you wear plaid, a good pair of jeans, shoes of your choice (preferably something in the sneaker family. Vans, chucks, etc.) and black square glasses.  If you speak Spanish, then there really is no hope for m