With His sheep securely fold you

God be with you til' we meet again

Adrianne McBride

September 4, 1985 - February 8, 2009

"Now, concerning the state of the soul between death and the resurrection—Behold, it has been made known unto me by an angel, that the spirits of all men, as soon as they are departed from this mortal body, yea, the spirits of all men, whether they be good or evil, are taken home to that God who gave them life.

And then shall it come to pass, that the spirits of those who are righteous are received into a state of happiness, which is called paradise, a state of rest, a state of peace, where they shall rest from all their troubles and from all care, and sorrow."

-Alma 40:11

We miss you, Annie. Rest well, til' we meet again.

Things that are nice about being literate

I left my local library last night carrying Dostoevsky, Steinbeck, and Lemony Snicket. Oh, and some Amy Tan and late fees for a little spice.

Judge not, lest ye feel bad about it later

On Friday, I found myself waiting for an elevator at work. (This happens rather frequently as there are not nearly enough elevators for a building as large as the one I work in, but that's neither here nor there.) Anyway, when the doors finally opened, I found myself making a not-so-kind judgment about the people getting off the elevator. You know, one of those gut instinct sort of thoughts that you chuckle about to yourself but wouldn't ever say out loud. Then two things happened in rapid succession:

1- I immediately felt guilty for indulging in such stereotypes. I must be a bad social worker.

and, 2- I entered the elevator, and my original judgements were solidly confirmed.

So, the question is: is it still wrong to make a nasty judgement about someone based entirely on biased assumptions if it turns out I'm right all along? Or does that just make me incredibly intuitive?

ILUVU4URAQT

I don't want to talk about whether I do or do not currently have a festering dry socket in my mouth that may, according to my coworkers, eventually lead to endocarditis and/or bilateral leg amputations. I want to tackle the serious issues.

Question:

Why does the text message function on my phone recognize the words "absorptionality" and "disenfranchised" but cannot handle "salsa"?

(The first person who answers this question with "idk" is dead to me.)

Welcome, Mr. President

God bless America, land that I love!

Stand beside her and guide her

thru the night with a light from above.

From the mountains, to the prairies,

to the oceans white with foam-

God bless America, my home sweet home!

God bless America, and hail to the Chief.

Today is a good day.

Gum holes

Thursday, January 15- 2:00 p.m.:

Witnesses report 4 widsom teeth brutally torn from their little nestled little homes inside local woman's mouth.

Alleged victim: "It hurt."

(Rewind: 1:00 p.m.- Victim eats final meal at Taco Bell.)(Taco Bell? Why Taco Bell?)(Not sure. Sort of disappointed, really.)

Evidence:

Exhibit A: Victim before incident

Exhibit B: This little piggy went to market...

Exhibit C: I like the gas...


Exhibit D: Victim after incident (reclined in car in pharmacy parking lot.)

I'm only still smiling because my entire mouth is numb.


Don't worry, I'm fine. Mostly. In my nitrous induced haze, I neglected to get a shot of the offending teeth. Trust me, I grow some mighty fine ones. They looked mostly like this:

only better and less squiggly on the bottom. Oh, and mine didn't wimp out and break into chunks like one of this guy's did. Loser.

I've been surviving on a diet composed of my mother's hot cereal and Jello Pudding Snack Packs. It's not such a bad life, really.

Also, I discovered that I shouldn't become a Lortab addict. Not so much because it's illegal, though. Mostly because it is impossible for me to remain conscious for longer than 5 minutes at a time.

Quote o' the week: "Mom! There's rice in my gum hole!"

Currently Reading:
Night by Elie Wiesel
Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris
The Alchemist (haven't gone back to B&N...)

Free Meal!

Let me get this out in the open before we begin: I loves me some Cafe Rio. Let's be honest here, everyone loves Cafe Rio, and if you try to convince me otherwise, I'll assume you're either a) lying, or b) have neglected to try the pork.

(One of the reasons I love Melinda so much is that on her holiday Cafe Rio eating poll there was not even an option for 'zero times'.)

So anyway, the other day I rode Trax downtown to meet up with el Hub-ster. After spending most of the ride chuckling quietly to myself at the high school-aged gang members* talking about how freakin' awesome it would be to go to Area 51 that night, (I'm guessing the club rather than the governmental off-limits zone, but maybe I'm just judging there) I hopped off the train near the downtown Cafe Rio.

That's when I overheard a rather animated discussion taking place behind me weighing the various merits of the Rio. One of the females was quite obviously a fan (and therefore presumably not a liar.) The other, after exuding a heavy sigh, began to patiently explain to Girl #1 that she "hadn't eaten real Mexican food until you've lived in Texas."

Errors in this argument:
#1- Who said anything about real Mexican food? I thought we were discussing Cafe Rio.
#2- Texas? Bummer.

As a side note, I could mention that at most of the Cafe Rio locations where I have stuffed my face many of the food preparers appear to have been of Latin descent. I assume they actually prepared my food (because I watched them actually prepare my food) and therefore could make the argument that the food was, in fact, "authentically Mexican". For the purposes of our discussion, however, we'll ignore that.

We can also ignore the fact that Paddy assures me that I would not actually want to eat much "authentic" Mexican food what with the cow stomach and the parasites and the like.

And now I'm just rambling.

The point: You don't eat at Cafe Rio in order to partake of deliciously authentic Mexican cuisine. You eat at Cafe Rio when you to belly up to the table with a burrito so huge they'll have to roll you out the front door when you're done. I thought that was understood and well-documented.

In closing, I present the following piece of evidence for ex-Texan Girl #2:

Pork Burrito, black beans, enchilda style, medium sauce. Side of limes, please.


*Later, these upstanding members of society were forced to make a panicky and hasty exit from the train when bandana-wearers of a different color were spotted waiting to board. Yes, even in Salt Lake City.