Once upon a time...

My journey - part 1

There are times in life when you just have to drop everything and bust out your hula hoop. It's at times like these, when I get the most depressed. That's because I don't know how to hula hoop! I blame this on my bringing up, and the fact that I never had an opportunity to dance. We all know that the secret to hula hooping is in the hips. If you don't have the hip shake, how are you supposed to do it? I'm afraid my life may never be complete until I can master the hula hoop, and consequently the hip shake. Where do I begin you ask? Well, I think the answer to this question may be hidden within the words of Shakira - Hips don't lie. And so, from this I begin my journey. 

posted by Kimmi @ 9:46 PM 1 comments

Candy Opposition

Today I stumbled across my left over Halloween candy, which I had forgotten in my drawer. I poked around in the brown paper bag in attempts of finding something chocolatey, but instead I found a strawberry Push Pop. Now, If you're like me, you probably have many cherished child hood memories of special occasions, sibling rivalries, trips to the ocean, and Push Pops. For my brother and I, no shopping trip was complete without a fun, flavor filled, diabetes inducing Push Pop!

I smiled as I tore off the plastic wrapping and tasted the familiar flavor once again. I couldn't help but appreciate the fact that I had finally found something unchanged since I was a little kid. This was short lived however, because when I tried to push the pop up higher my finger just hit the bottom of a solid plastic container. Confused, I tried pulling off the bottom of the dispenser, figuring it was just a new sanitary precaution. This also proved futile, even after enlisting the help of several pointy metal objects as well as my teeth.

For a while I just looked bewilderedly at the deceitful wrapper. Then I saw it. In smaller letters to the right of the Push Pop logo was the description: "Now With POP UP ACTION!"

I stared numbly at the wrapper for a few moments, then back to the candy that hadn't "popped up" at all. After hitting the dispenser a few times and trying to wedge the candy out with my teeth, I came to the realization that the candy was in fact, not going to come out.

I decided to check out this new concept on the web site, and sure enough it was all there. This is what I read: "Now Push Pops are spring loaded! So your Push Pop pops UP, pops UP, pops UP all by itself! No more sticky fingers!!! But still the same great taste!"**

What I'm trying to understand is, why would I want to buy a Push Pop if I can't, you know, push it? Not only have I lost this classic piece of my childhood, but there is at least an inch of Push Pop left in that dispenser and I have seen no spring loaded action! I want my candy! I want my memories!

So I was thinking, maybe this is just a small step in desensitizing and preparing us for even more drastic changes! Next thing you know our Lego's will already be assembled and our DunkAroos will already be dunked! But who wants to buy pre-dunked DunkAroos? Not me!

So my faithful (and not so faithful) blog readers, unite with me in boycotting spring loaded Push Pops! Although this action will do absolutely nothing to hinder the production of these pops, it may in the long run prevent cavities. If we can't have our Push Pops how we want, we might as well have nice teeth.

**http://www.topps.com/Confectionery/NewPushPop/PushPop.html

posted by Kimmi @ 11:05 PM 1 comments

Off with her hair!

Today dreams were shattered, brains were fried, and thousands of hair folicles lost their heads.

I woke up late today for the first time since the time change. Daylight Savings is bliss! Or is it the end of Daylight Savings? Either way, I'm a happy camper when I gain an hour. But inspite of the extra hour, I was late today anyway, and completely forgot about the testing I was supposed to be taking. Fortunately, preperation would not have helped me on this test, seeing as it asked me questions about the voltage and frequency patterns of electrical units, tool names, and other mechanical lingo, none of which I have any knowledge about. I can make a safe bet that the results won't suggest persuing a career as an electrician or automechanic. Good thing I took that test though, I may have thought tech school was for me! So anyway, by 11:00 my brain was sufficiently fried.

After school I went to lunch with Kate, and then came home for a little while. I checked my email. Low and behold, the very message I'd been waiting for had arrived! Most people who talk to me already know that I've been wanting to attend a college in London for a semester as an exchange student. Yesterday I requested the tuition information for Richmond American International University in London, the school I have been drooling over for the past several weeks. My heart sunk a little bit when $40,000 a year jumped out at me. Needless to say, I think I'm going to have to eliminate that one as an option. Maybe I can downsize a bit, choose something that doesn't look quite so much like a castle :'(

In other news, I got a haircut today and I am proud to announce that my hair now has several layers and smells like a creamsicle. Yum.

posted by Kimmi @ 10:00 PM 0 comments

Men and Women as Consumers

There are two major differences between men and women as consumers; their ability to adapt to unexpected circumstances, and their definition of want versus need. For some reason, men don't understand when a woman sees the need to stop for an item not found on the pre-made list. However, in all reality, a list is merely a guideline to ensure that the basic items are not forgotten. What would life be like if the only items purchased we're things such as toothpaste, socks, and milk? I dare not think of the repercussions.

'Why are we stopping?' and 'What do you need in there?' are common questions that women are faced with everyday while attending to the needs of the household. The truth of the matter is, that women love to shop. It's in their nature and they know what they're doing. Contrary to the popular male belief, women are in control from the second they step foot into the store to the second they carry their bags out. Just because they come home with a few extra items doesn't mean that the situation was out of control, and in fact, the items are almost always essential to the health and happiness of the individual they are intended for.

This is where the definition of want versus need comes in. To a man, a necessity is something vital to ones health, hygiene, or basic comfort. This could include items such as food, soap, the TV remote, etc. What they don’t know is that women, unlike men, not only love to shop, but have an inborn need to shop. Browsing the mall is a lot like flipping through the channels and choosing the best sports game to watch. It may seem pointless to the opposite sex, but it is in fact very important to their mental state. This concept can be difficult for some men to understand, but it’s important that they don’t ignore it.

There are key phrases that every man should learn to recognize and act upon. ‘I have to run a few errands, is there anything you need at the store?’ is a subtle way of finding an excuse to turn a simple post office run into a full fledged shopping trip. At this time it is usually best to make up a small inexpensive item. This way there is no unnecessary loss of money, and more importantly, no unnecessary loss of limb due to the women’s inability to subdue her desire.

Women see shopping very much like men see sports. It’s a competition to seek bargains, a challenge to find deals, and a self satisfaction to reach the goal. Telling a woman that she doesn’t need to buy something is like telling a man that he doesn’t need to watch the last ten minutes of the football game because it’s obvious which team is going to win. Both scenarios, obviously, are no-no’s.

Flipping the coin over we have men as consumers. Very unlike women, men go into a store to conquer. With the list in one hand and the shopping cart in the other, they execute their mission with the utmost perfection and rapidity. To the naked eye a man may seem to have a natural navigational ability around the store. However, having experiences proving against this theory, I must say it is more likely that he made up a detailed plan with the most direct route quite a while before entering.

As an early teenager I remember accompanying my father on trips to radio shack. Every time we went he would make me put a walkie talkie in my purse to ensure that he would not have to waste any time looking for me when his purchases were finished. It was mortifying walking through the mall with my little purse overburdened with a large walkie talkie that barely fit in my hand, not to mention the purse. It was even worse standing in line in a store, surrounded by older teens, and hearing my fathers tinny voice reverberating from my side. To my father, this was common sense.

‘Wouldn’t this look amazing in the living room?’ and ‘Hey, why don’t we take a peek in here!’ are questions that men are commonly plagued with while trying desperately to save time and complete their lists. Unfortunately for them, it is usually more important that the women are not denied these excursions than for the men to complete their tasks.

There are very few things that can actually distract a man from his course of action in the store. This is probably why so many advertisements portray beautiful girls as their advertising technique. Sometimes these images are just enough to skew the man’s vision to where he can see the store around him. For that brief, vulnerable moment, he can take in the items and find some that he deems “necessary” for health and happiness, such as a toolbox or lawnmower. Although these advertisements do nothing for women, it isn’t important, because women’s eyes are already scanning the store as they browse through.

Men have their own ways of rationalizing gifts as well. This is why women usually do the Christmas and birthday shopping. If it we’re up to a man he would buy the cheapest, most practical item possible. This is why so many women find scarves in their packages year after year. It’s always a struggle for me to buy a present for my father, because every time I ask him what he wants his answer is something like ‘I need new socks’, or ‘I’m low on windshield wiper fluid.’ Obviously, windshield wiper fluid would not be a presentable gift. For this reason, my mother and I are not only burdened with the task of doing all the Christmas shopping ourselves, but also making sure that he stays away from the stores throughout the entire Christmas season.

If it were up to men then most houses would probably be a lot more authentic. Homemade decorations are top of the list in their minds. Why spend hundreds of dollars on elegant curtains and matching rods when you can make your own out of used sheets? And why buy a $22 wreathe from your daughter’s class fundraiser when you can wrap some fir branches around an old bicycle tire?

Other foreign territories to men are name brands and specifics. When a man says he needs soap, that’s exactly what he means: soap. He probably just wants to wash the dirt off his hands and face so his wife won’t complain about it. On the other hand, if a women says she needs soap she could be referring to her Dove hand soap, her Neutrogena moisturizing face wash, or that coconut-lime body wash that she loves. Of course, there are a few exceptions to this rule, like my brother, who refuses to use the two in one Suave shampoo that I bought him because my Herbal Essence Conditioner makes his hair silky and smooth. As a general rule, however, men are more interested in the indications label than the name of the product

In conclusion, it’s not hard to see that when it comes to consumers, women are the connoisseurs. Without women, men would just be poorly dressed, course haired, dry skinned tall people who give scarves for Christmas year after year. Where would this world be without us? I pray we never find out.

posted by Kimmi @ 8:17 PM 2 comments

Personal narrative with no relevance.

The Autumn of my sophomore year in high school was an experience I will never forget. There was of course the crisp fall air, the vivid reds and oranges of falling leaves, and perhaps unique to my memory, the screaming of hundreds of school kids. Now, these were not ordinary school kids let me tell you. These were field trip pumped, 6 year old apple picking fiends.
The largest cause of this predicament was that for a logic I may never quite understand, I had decided to home school for a year. Another contributing factor was that my parents run an apple orchard, hosting thousands of children every year for an authentic orchard experience.
My books not scheduled to arrive until November, what better use was there of my time than a job? Apparently this was my parents logic, because I was scheduled for 9 a.m. every morning. It was a simple routine that I actually learned to enjoy over the weeks.
At 9 O'clock I walked down to the big gray and red barn that served as a check point, gift shop, and fruit stand in one. I loved the feeling of stepping out into the cool autumn air, and the consequent redness that would spread through my cheeks every morning. The dew was still slightly frosted onto the stiff blades of grass and I could hear the distinct crunching noise your feet always make as they leave permanent prints in the frozen ground. As I walked through the large apple shaped door I was immediately hit with the smell of Poppy's cider donuts. (Poppy is my grandfather and he makes the best cider donuts in the world. I'm not sure exactly how he got his name, but I think it might have something to do with his tradition of making popcorn every Saturday night.)
Once I arrived on site I had something I needed to take care of before getting down to business. You see, me and one of the other employees had a pact. Every morning I would walk into Poppy's little work space and take two cinnamon sugared donuts to go, and then one to eat at the moment. The truth was that I only did eat that one donut. The other two were smuggled out to Kim, my co-worker. Honestly, it was doing everyone a lot of good, because I know that Poppy loved to see me wanting three of his donuts every morning. As for Kim, well he really appreciated it too because he got a free breakfast!
Now that my friendly duty was served, I headed to the back room to pour what seemed to be an endless number of Dixie cups full of apple cider. The cider jugs were so cold that I finally invested in some bright blue monkey gloves with bananas on the finger tips. You wouldn't see me pouring without them.
Once the busses started pulling in there were several jobs that I would do depending on where I was needed. The groups had to be checked in of course, and then there was always the duty of leading each group to their activities. This job proved to me to be one of the most frustrating. No matter how slow it felt like I was walking, the curious children would linger farther and farther back, their senses absorbing every detail of the new place. I would stop and turn, kindly prompting them to keep walking, but behind my smile was a nagging impatience and an uncomfortable shifty feeling that you can only understand when hundreds of eyes are on your back.
Although leading was not my favorite task, it doesn't mean I didn't love working with the kids. My favorite job was helping out in the Apple Tree Theater. My responsibility was to choose several of them to help out in various aspects of the show, whether it be dressing up on stage or controlling the spot lights. It was so much fun to see their faces light up when I explained to them what an important job it was they were being given.
One girl, who I will never forget, looked up at me with wide eyes as I walked by in my cowgirl hat.
"Are you a teenager??" She asked, her shrill voice in complete awe.
"As a matter of fact I am!" I exclaimed, beaming back at her.
I couldn't help laughing at how fascinated she was in me. It made me stop and wonder how many of these kids actually looked up to me.
My favorite memory of the entire experience happened one day in mid October. My aunt was visiting us from California, and at this particular moment she was standing by the coffee counter, which she visited frequently. I was pouring cider in the back room when I heard her scream. I quickly set down the cider gallon on the counter and ran out to see what had happened. It took me a second to realize that she was actually bent over in laughter, not in pain.
"LOOK!" She managed to yell between her laughter and desperate gulps for air.
Curious, if not a little confused, I looked out the window where her finger was pointing. I saw two teachers talking, their class formed in groups around the tables. Then, as my eyes lowered, I saw what she was pointing at. Right next to, but unannounced to the teacher was a lone boy, his pants at his ankles and arms at his sides, peeing all over the ground. His classmates stood uncaring around him and his teacher, so engulfed in her conversation, had not even noticed. Finally she turned and saw the boy, screamed, and frantically started trying to pull up his pants while he stood there nonchalantly enjoying his field trip. At this point I don't know what became of him, mostly because my aunt and I were both on the floor, clutching our sides, and laughing without shame in front of all the other customers in the store.

posted by Kimmi @ 7:33 PM 0 comments

Supply and Demand

Today something very odd happened. My stalker asked my father if he could marry me. This was especially odd seeing as I had just turned down his pleadings for me to date him, even the offer to be my slave, not 5 days ago. I thought I was very clear that I did not like him and would not date him, even after he insisted that he was the best guy for me and that 5 years was not that much of an age difference. So you can imagine my surprise when he shows up at my house 5 days later and asks if I'm ready for marriage. My father kindly responded that I was not ready for marriage, at least not as long as I was living under his house, so my stalker proceeded to ask my father to call him if I happened to move out of the house. He used the bargaining chip of "I'm thinking of starting college." Fortunately for me, but disappointingly for him, this was not enough for my father to sell me into marriage. He also stated that he was afraid that if he waited so long that I would find someone else, and he would lose me. Now, as far as my recollection goes, I don't remember ever letting him have me in the first place, but maybe "no I won't date you" has more than one meaning these days.

posted by Kimmi @ 6:05 PM 1 comments

First of the Last

Ok, so It's the first day of school. I've been doing this since I was 6 years old it should be all old hat right? But this isn't just any first day of school. This is the first day of my last year of school. Last year! That would have to mean that I'm a senior, wouldn't it. So I am.

Last night I was honestly going to go to bed real early. I was going to face the day like a man, mind you a much trendier, better groomed man, and..well, more like a woman. It's just an expression, gosh. But anyway it didn't work out so here I am at 6:30 in the morning and I have no idea where I am or what my name is because the sleep fairy passed me over last night and I'm disoriented.

I crawl out of bed and into the bathroom. God, I look horrendous. My hair is every which way and my jammies are a million sizes too large and I just need a nice long shower to get myself in the groove but..oh right, school. I have a schedule now don't I...

I notice my capris hanging on the shower rod that I set out last night, after spending about 30 minutes scrubbing a stain with at least 5 different detergents. I am so proud of me. I go over to take them down and admire my handy work.

Hah, that's funny it almost feels like the capris are...why are my capris wet? How could they still be wet? I mean, I set them out last night it usually only takes one night to hang dry just about any item unless...unless I forgot to rinse all the detergents out. I'm an idiot.

I quickly throw the capris into the washing machine, and arrange for my mum to bring them to me while she brings me my Six Flags ticket. I forgot to mention, not only is it the first day of my last year of school, but I'm ditching half of it and going to six flags with my friend! Brilliant, hey?

I arrive at school with all my books in my arms, my backpack full of notebooks over my shoulder, and my purse slung around some empty limb. Ok Kimmi, your a senior. You are at the top of the school here! Just stride in with confidence! Show that smile and put your books in your locker and...my locker. Uh-oh. I have no idea what my locker combination is. I just had it written down the other day and I know I put it in my purse, so why isn't it here? Yes, so far I'm doing really brilliantly. Now I have to take all my books down to assembly with me.

I've gone down the hallway lugging these books and now I've finally reached the assembly room so I can sit down. No one will notice the books if I just put them underneath my chair.

Oh lovely, the principle is speaking now. The annual principles welcome does not usually consist of much welcoming. More or less just rules.

"A jacket can be worn over a school appropriate logo shirt as long as the material is fleece or cardigan." The principle carries on, after a while moving on to "I know some of you are having difficulties with drugs and alcohol and I want you to know that we are here for you, but if you bring them to campus then you will be expelled, we mustn't cross this line , especially at a Christian school where..."

The English teacher isn't here today, huh, that's odd. I think there is a fly on that girls head, someone should swat it! I would swat it if I were there.

"...Leaving campus at any time before classes are finished will be severely punishable by multiple detentions, suspension, and inability to participate in any sports for the rest of the school year..." The voice drones on. I wonder how she got her hair to stick like that, it really must have been quite a feat.

Kimmi! Stop it! You're a senior you have to set the example for all these less fortunate under classmen who still have full class schedules (snicker). Actually, on second thought, don't teach them to listen to this it's a load of crap anyway. I'm doing them a favor. Wow is she still talking??

Once the assembly has finished I head upstairs and go to my first class, English. Mr. Loss isn't here so Mr. Malin is substituting and he just wants us to write a journal entry on "a picture of yourself that you have seen recently, and what you like about it." OK, that's easy enough.

I write some bull about a picture of my brother and I holding hands as children and how it moved me. It really was a good journal write I think. Too bad Mr. Loss doesn't bother to read any of our work anyway. English class is painfully uneventful and next is a study hall. This should be fun I like study halls! The teachers just supervise while we all talk or watch TV or goof off in their classroom. Of course there is some studying...occasionally.

I look at my schedule and it tells me to go to the science room for study hall. That's a disappointment. I was hoping for the English room so I could sleep on the couches, or maybe the computer lab so I could check my mail. Oh well, now I can at least have one class in the science room with the new teacher.

I walk into the science room where a few other student are already sitting and take a seat next to my friend Chris. OK, so it's not just a few students, it's all of them. I had a little delay getting into my locker so I'm a bit late...

"Great well you all are looking good here except..you two are a little too close why don't you spread apart some so there's just one student per desk." The teacher says.

Is she talking to me? This is a study hall you can't tell me where to sit...and hey! These are two-person desks what do you mean I'm too close? I look up and the eye contact confirms that she is in fact speaking to me. I give her an odd look and move to an empty double desk.

"Ok good. I don't have a syllabus for this class but I'll have assigned seating tomorrow. There will be no talking, just read or study. If I see you aren't working then I have plenty of glassware that needs washing...

Glassware? Washing?

"...I actually graduated from SLA myself and I'll be..." She continues.

I can't believe what I'm hearing. Doesn't she realize the standard procedure for study halls here? Someone needs to tell her so that we can get back to enjoying ourselves! Washing dishware? What is she talking about?! I pick up my book, Confessions of a Shopaholic, and start reading the first paragraph.

"...I like to ski but since I injured my hip a few years back I haven't been able to enjoy it as much..." Continues the teacher.

I read a few more paragraphs and glance up again.

"...So the flies come out around December down in Alabama where I'm from..." She just keeps going. Didn't she just say something about a no talking rule? Gosh, she's like the energizer bunny.

Thank God. That was the bell. As I leave I see Chris approach the teacher and say something like "you are going to have personality clashes if you keep doing study hall this way." Way to go Chris, show her what we're made of! Oh. She just assigned him to washing glassware next period...Maybe we'll just have to take this from a different approach.

My next class is U.S. Government. I hear it's a pretty interesting class so I'm looking forward to it somewhat. It can't be any worse than study hall. I sit down in an empty chair and wait for him to start talking. Somewhere in the middle of his speech a thought occurs to me. He's cultivating democrats and I'm severely outnumbered. My friend and fellow republican Kate has a notebook which says "You be quiet, I'll be right." I can tell this will be an interesting semester.

Following Gov. is my final class, Bible IV. He talks a bit about nothing and before I know it there's the bell! I'm free! I'll just go to the office and sign myself out, call Aubie and we'll be off to Six Flags!

As I approach the office I see the secretary sitting at her desk behind the clear glass walls that make up the office. I tap lightly on the door, walk in, and she looks up at me expectantly.

"erm, hi! I need to get an early release form. I have plans this afternoon and I'm going to have to miss the handshake." I say, trying to pull off a regretful expression.

"I'm sorry, your required to say." She says with...is that a smile of satisfaction on her face?

"Well, I know there is an event this afternoon but I don't have any more classes and I really can't stay. I already paid $30 for my ticket (I leave out the part where I can use the ticket any day I want, it really isn't important...) so I'll just have my parents call in and excuse..."

"No, your required to be here, I'm sorry." She just interrupted me! And wipe that grin off your face!

"Look if my parents call in and excuse me I should be able to leave." I'm trying valiantly, why is this such a big deal?

"And I'm telling you that you can't." She says.

I'm getting very frustrated and I have half the mind to yell that she can't keep me here against my parents orders and I'm not required to stay for SA events like the banquet so this shouldn't be any different but I'll keep my mouth shut for now. I think of just leaving but the principles words are echoing through my head about multiple detentions and suspension and such. That's it, I'm calling mum. She'll know what to do.

The phone rings a few times and my dad picks up. Oh great, this could be difficult. I give the phone to the secretary and she speaks to him briefly, hands back the phone with a sickeningly satisfied smile that makes me want to slap her, and sits back down at her desk.

"Dad, let me talk to mum, OK?" I whisper into the receiver.

"Hello?" The familiar voice comes through the ear piece and I feel slight relief.

"Mum I need your help, she won't let me leave! Can you speak with her?" I tap on the glass once more and the secretary...ignores it. She can't ignore me! Where is she going? Come back here, I knocked!

"Mum do you know the office number? Good, can you call it? No, I can't just hand her the phone. No, I need you to call in there. Don't ask why. Just take my word for it OK? Thanks, goodbye." I hang up the phone and sit on the steps.

I see the secretary talking quietly into the phone in the office. It's taking quite a while, I hope we're making progress. Ah yes, I see the smile fading a little. This is good.

The phone hangs up and she looks up at me in irritation. I love irritation. I smile, take the early release form that she is handing me, and walk out the front door with the same smile she was wearing earlier, although I think it looks much nicer on me.

Mrs. Booth, Aubie, and George are all waiting for me in the parking lot already, so I get in the car and we head off towards the park. I think this is going to be a good year.

posted by Kimmi @ 11:00 PM 0 comments