Don't Worry, I can Blackmail Myself! Part 4

It's been awhile since I have written anything truly embarrassing about myself.  So why not revive that genre of my writing and really go all in.

I woke up this morning with songs from Information Society in my head.  It brought back many memories so I got on ITunes and bought the album for a trip down memory road.  While I was listening to one song in particular it brought me right back to a Junior High/ High School crush and potato harvest.  Odd combination I know, but have you met me?  Enough said.

So.  This boy, who shall remain nameless, was a year older than me in high school and didn't know I existed outside of Jarom's little sister.  You see he was friends with my brother.  He had many.  I thought they were so cool.  And hence my crush.  Well in Junior High, which explains some of it, I expressed my secret love by making a picture.  It was a full sheet of pink and red hearts with a large heart in the center with this boy's name in the middle.  I was not stupid enough to have it at school with me, so I taped it to the back of my bedroom door... a place of honor.  Later this door was to house posters of Brett Michaels, Sebastian Bach, and a plethora of other bands.  But not in Junior High.

I thought I was safe in my unknown crush.  I don't think I told a single friend about it.  But alas, the fates conspired against me.  Imagine my surprise when one day my brother had this particular friend over and I found this guy walking out of MY ROOM!  There's no way he missed my awesome hearted junior high crushing expression of puppy love.  I wanted to die right there on the spot.  I don't even know what I did after that.  I don't know what he said or did, I just wanted to die.

From then on I knew I could never even hope of him giving me the time of day.  Though that didn't stop the crush.  Information Society was one of the tapes we listened to over and over during potato harvest.  Anytime "Repetition" came on it reminded me of my crush... the one I still had.  The one that was accompanied by feelings of humiliation.  It really makes no sense... now that I think about it this all explains a lot about my high school experience.  Huh.

Enjoy.

Have you ever sang with the Devil in the hot spotlight?

There is a lady in our ward who works or volunteers with the Utah Festival Opera, here in Logan. She was responsible for getting a few "extras" to do a musical number for a fundraiser event. It would include dinner, a Big Band and a few musical numbers by, among others, Michael Ballam (You might remember him as Satan), who is a big part of the Utah Festival Opera organization. She called me one evening and asked if I would like to be one of these extras.

"You want me???"

"Yup!!!"

"Are you sure???"

"Yup!"

"Let me think about it and I will get back with you."

The number she wanted me to be in was a Sailor for "There is Nothing Like a Dame" from "South Pacific". The whole evening would be themed around the musical since it will be one of the plays that the Utah Festival Opera will be putting on later in the year.

This is something like I have never done before. I have sung in choirs, and even done a few solos, but I have never been in a play, let alone a musical. This was going to be a little acting, kinda. It would involve blocking, movement, costumes. It would involve CHOREOGRAPHY!!! It was going to involve people who were paying $65 a pop to go to this thing, who love Utah Festival Opera shows with real professionals. We were to be the main event! Me? Are you Serious?

So, I mention this to Lora, and after that, there was no way I was going to get out of it. And that was that. At least a couple of the sailor extras were friends from the ward. This was also something that they had never done before.

For your viewing pleasure, I present . . .

The evening was pretty fun. We were able to enjoy the whole Dinner and program for free, and we could bring in a guest for only $25. All three of us made a night of it with our wives, (Since, lets be honest, they were the main motivating factor here).

When we performed, I wasn't very nervous until the minute before we were up. We had practiced only the Thursday before and went through it a couple of times earlier that night. It went well I thought. It didn't seem like anyone messed up too badly. I remembered most of the lines and movements. All in all it went alright. We got a big applause. Lora said we were the best act of the night and it was good for us to be the last number. And I felt good about it up until I saw the video Lora had taken of us.

So, there are things called perceptions. These things, it turns out can be completely out of line with each other and even more so with reality. I don't mean to say that our number was actually bad. I bet most people will think it was pretty good, and it was rightly so that the audience liked us. The video showed me that my perceptions of two things were . . . lets just say, they were off somewhat.

The first is what I look like. I was trim and athletic in high school and stayed that way up until I hit about 30. Looking at the movie, all I could say was, "Wooohhh, hey there fatso!" Now, I know I'm not fat. I'm just heavier than my perception of my self. Even when I look in the mirror, I see more what I used to look like. I think it is pretty funny how we hold on to our youth so much like that.

The other perception that was "adjusted", if not completely shattered, was my abilities as a musical actor. I am not ashamed of my first performance. I think I did alright. I thought the other two from the ward did AWESOME, especially considering this is something we have never done before. I guess what I'm trying to say is that, when I look at the video, I don't see a sailor singing about the virtues of the fairer sex, so to speak. I see a guy who is anxious about messing up and looking at the leader of the group for his cues nearly the entire time.

Oh, and I apologize for mentioned leader's t-shirt riding up a few times. I'm sorry to say it isn't a pretty sight. You may even want to avert your eyes at the end.

Anyway, there you go. Some good blackmail material if you want it. But you may not be able to extort much from me, because I really don't have regrets, and it was a pretty fun night. Besides, not everyone can say they performed while accompanied by Satan.

Under the Knife

In the name of all that is random and odd, I ask you dear readers, if you were to have cosmetic surgery what would it be?

I don't ask this out of vanity or an obsession with the perfect body.  I can tell you right now there will be no chest altering in the future, or liposuction for that matter.  Don't get me wrong, I would love to have a few pounds of fat just sucked out of my trouble spots, but what would that say about me? 

Perhaps I fear the judgements of man too much. I was joking about some magic way to melt away the fat in the general area of my tummy.  Believe it or not my husband would actually support me in that.  Not because he thinks I'm fat or that I need it, he's just watched as I've tried to work my behind off and it just won't go.  He would support it because he hates to see me work so hard to no avail.  What no one realizes is that no matter how hard I try to work my behind off my addicition to chocolate/sugar is the real thing that is standing in my way.... sigh.  It's just so darn good!  Some people have their coffee addiction, I have my chocolate addiction.  It could even be called my coping device.  I think another sigh is appropriate here.

Back to the topic.  No seriously body altering surgery, but I confess the prospects of laser hair removal sound marvelous to me.  And if I could choose only one spot, it would be my stupid chin!!  Seriously, what is up with that!  Women bear the children, the laundry, why do we have to deal with errant chin hairs!  And why oh why does no one prepare us for this at home.  Or perhaps I'm the only one who deals with this problem?  Hmmm.  could it be a family trait?  Either way, it totally stinks!  So if I were to change myself cosmetically it would be laser hair removal.

What would yours be?  You can tell me, this is a safe place.  (insert smiley face here)

Just cause

Velvet, Abby, Mom, Samantha, Melissa, Me and Nessa in front.

So... This was taken at our Robbin's Family Reunion. We did a skit for the Friday evening hot dog roast. Please note that we all 'stuffed' in various places. I really don't look like that. I thought it was too fun not to post.

Don't worry, I can blackmail myself part 3

I just had to. This was part of my "group" of friends in high school. From left to right: Leslie, me, LaDawn, and Tonya. As you can see we were rather dateless, but boy we sure did have fun on our own. Which leads into another story.

My friends and I may not have been 'bells of the ball' so to speak, but that doesn't mean we didn't have a good time. In fact we spent quite a bit of time on the dance floor. We did a substantial amout of head banging and jumping (Jump! Jump! Jump!) One of the favorite things to do was grab hands and swing around in a circle as fast as we could.

So one time, we were at the dance on Fair weekend. It was in the gymn at the Elementary school. I can still feel the squeaky floor underneath my feet. There was a boy there that I was just ga ga over. He sold t-shirts at one of the stands, "Button Your Fly". (You know as well as I that all teenagers have brain damage and an extreme lack of taste in the opposite sex. I was no exception.) His name was Kimber. He said I looked like the singer from the B-52's. He called me his B-52 girl. I was head over heels, for the moment at least. He also thought I was 17.

I was 15.

Anyway, we (Tonya, Leslie, and I) were on the dance floor, doing our signature hold hands and spin move (cause that's way appealing to the opposite sex??) when I was released from their grip. I flew out of the spin and did a backwards summer-salt into the corner speaker. I was mortified!!... but not unused to making a fool of myself at the most inopportune times. My face went glow-in-the-dark red, I stood up, took a bow and sat down.

Yep, those were good times.

Huh.

For some reason every time I get a haircut I'm inspired to write about it. It's like you get a chance to choose a new you. There you are, looking in the mirror at the old you with the non-descript mop lounging around your face and trying to decide what the new you is going to look like.

Should I color? Should I just get it cut? How short? What do I want to be able to do with my hair? What will look good? What will make me wake up in a cold sweat realizing that I have killed my chances of fortunate and fame by getting a stupid haircut!? (at least until is grows back into the mop that is.) And what will help me walk down the halls of the University knowing that I look like a million bucks in spite of the fact that I have at least 13 years on most of the students wandering the halls. Let's face it the "do" seems to say a lot about how you feel, especially when it's a bad one.

I can't help but think of some of the really good bad hair-do's I have had while growing up. I used to get perms a lot when I was in junior high and high school. They were the home perms that mom did cause hey, why not. I'll never forget one particular home perm. The solution apparently sat a little too long and as my mother was taking out the perm rods, there were bursts of quickly stifled laughter. "It'll be fine, it'll be fine" she said quickly and stifled another laugh. I looked like I had stuck my finger in a light socket! Tight little curls. Yechk.

Second all time favorite remembrance was "the haircut". Mom was just having a bad year at that time. It was the same year she gave my brother the "Trojan war helmet cut". She was trimming my bangs, pulled the hair down, asked "Is this the right length?" and then cut it before I even had a chance to look, let alone respond. My bangs were maybe two inches long. I'm betting an inch and a half personally but it can't be proven since I would allow no one to take a picture of me till they grew back out. Positively mortifying during the delicate high school years. I had to use one of those super extra small curling irons to even put a curl in it. I wanted to put a bag over my head, or come down with mono or something so I could skip the rest of the school year.

For your enjoyment, the hair of high school past... thank heavens!

Sophomore year. The perm. Young, innocent.

Junior year. The attempts at straightness. (failed) Senior year. I have no idea... seriously, what was that. (Don't you think I kind of look drugged?)

Don't worry, I can blackmail myself, Part 2

So, my eyes are so tired that they are dry and it feels like they could pop out of my head any minute now! Tragedy is that it is only 9:00! When did I get so old?!?

I've been sitting here for awhile contemplating on what to post. I'm sure somewhere in the madness that is my mind there is something waiting to be said... needing to be written down for all the blog-reading world to see. Something humiliating and painful and buried deep down that is begging to be heard. But what! What little snippet of information could flow so well from these fingers of mine and be released on the unsuspecting world. Hmmm...

I've got it! As the packing and unpacking went on, I found a priceless treasure trove of sure to be embarrassing material. My junior-high school/high school journal. Looking over this journal, I am surprised to see on paper just how boy-crazy I was and how often my boy-craziness was the direct result of imaginary relationships. For example:

August 29, 1990 (I was 14... oh my)
Today turned out to be the best day of my whole entire life!! (the exclamation points were accentuated with hearts) I went swimming at Riverdale. Nobody there was my age. But low and behold ______ ______ was THERE!! I didn't even get to talk to him but ____ _____ did. He likes me. I mean really likes me. He even wanted to ask me to go down the slide with him!!! I thought he liked ______ but he doesn't. He was gonna ask me but his mom told him he had to go. I wish he had asked me sooner. Just to imagine what it would be like sends my heart POUNDING!! I'M IN LOVE!!

No one's got better dirt on me than I do. Think you know who belongs in the blanks??? Try your best guess... especially Ginny. (one of those Summer loving type things)

Don't worry, I can blackmail myself. Part 1

So, moving always presents itself with it's ups and downs. The downs are that you have to pack up your life and move it to a new location. The ups are that you get a chance to remember your life... for better or for worse.

As I was going through a box that I have hauled around since High School, I stumbled upon a variety of items that made me laugh right out loud! I feel the need to share.

First. One of my favorite things about going to my Grandma's house was sneaking into her room and playing with her grandma jewelry. The chunky beads and gaudy earrings were just so dang fun. So, in my infinite wisdom, I decided to make a collection of my own. I was going to keep those items of jewelry that I had outgrown but my kids and grand kids would be sure to love. I kept them in a Noxema box of all things. I have literally hauled it around for years and just today I decided to open it up and see what treasures I had vowed to pass on to my posterity.... oh my.

I give to you the single earring that used to be a set. Why on earth I kept them... My favorite it is the 2nd half of the "best friends" earring. I'm pretty sure that Ed had the first half.

Next come proof of my once-upon-a-long-time-ago infatuation with dragons. Sorry it's a little blurry, couldn't get it any better in current conditions. I used to wear it with a purple shirt. This one actually did come from my Grandma! Shazaam!
Did I ever tell you I had a rock tumbler? I got it for Christmas one year. No one knew that the stupid thing had to run for months on end in order for it to work. My parents regretted it the moment I took it out of the box. I only made it one round myself. I honestly don't remember this one, but I must have kept it for the many beautiful colors that my kids were sure to love! And who can forget the friendship bracelets handmade in the comfort of Mr. Washburn's arts and crafts class. And my all time favorite laugh out loud collection. Each one is slightly smaller than the palm of my hand and made of plastic. I can hardly find the words. It was these gems that made me laugh the hardest,