Put a Fork in Me, I'm Done.

Guess what I just realized?
This is my last semester taking a full load of credit hours at BYU! WOOP! (Yah... It's like 'WOOT' but better.)

Where has the time gone, people? Where has the time gone.

Isn't that the craziest thing you've ever heard??
Next semester, I'm gonna be all fun and fancy free, takin' like six credit hours and livin' it up at my new internship. That's right. You heard me. INTERNSHIP.

I'm gonna be spending my time in Lehi at Osmond Designs, helping in their design center and office. It's gonna be brilliant. Because they're awesome.

Wanna know why? I'll tell you why.

Not only do they specialize in Interior Design, their website has a quiz. A 'Find Your Style' quiz. And everyone knows how exciting those are! (Not the evil 'pop' quizzes teachers spring on you in college, dummy. The pointless 'How Many Kid's Will You Have', etc. quizzes on Facebook!)

I know how much you're dying to know what my results were. Really. I do. So, without further ado... Corinner-Elly's style is:

... wait for it ...

Casual/Traditional
And now for a blurb about what that means! (I may or may not post this on my wall later to annoy all my 'friends' and turn into the world's greatest nuisance.)

"Your responses place you within the Casual / Traditional design category. Interior styles suited to your tastes might include the casual country styles of American Country, Cottage, French Provincial and English Country. Americana styles might also be suited to your tastes in the variations of Arts & Crafts / Mission Style, Shaker and Southwestern / Lodge / High Country. Coastal Atlantic Seaboard and California Coastal styles are other alternatives for a breezy variation of casual traditional style."

Why do I feel as though I'm being given the virtual stink eye?

*sigh*

I see that the only person who will actually be able to respond/relate to this is Katerina Cupcake. I expect to see a comment from you, little Missy. Tell them I'm not crazy.

And now that you've all gone and crushed my spirits, I don't even feel like tellin' you about my latest projects.

PFFT. Who'm I kiddin'?

Look what I made! Okay, okay. I didn't really make it, per say. But I did find it at DI and spray paint it. It was an assignment commissioned by my mom and, by golly, I think I get an 'A+'.
(P.S. It's a shoe basket, in case you were confused on that subject.)

And looky, looky! I started my Floral Design class and in the first lab we learned how to design/wrap bouquets. I chose a monochromatic color scheme. (Green doesn't necessarily count as a 'color' in the flower world. Strange, eh?)

I gave it to Lera for her birthday. She loved it! (More than the one her boyfriend gave her, truth be told. But that's a secret for me to know and him to never find out.)

And now, to finish off what might otherwise be termed a 'non-reaction worthy' post, I'll entertain you with this:

Corinner-Elly's All Time Favorite Phrases:

• You have the brain capacity of a mentally impaired goldfish.
• That was slower than a herd of turtles tramping through peanut-butter.
• Quicker than crap from a goose!
• Well, Poop.

Hehe. :D Good, right? Am I right?

What do you mean they aren't entertaining!?? You've gotta be kiddin' me. Everybody likes my 'All Time Favorite Phrases'!

You know what else everybody likes? My blog. Have you ever met a person, you say, "Let's go read Corinner-Elly," they say, "Heck no, I don't like no Corinner-Elly"?

Corinner-Elly is awesome.

No?...

Well. How wude.

Jus' Goes On n' On, Dudn' It?

#31- Wrapping Irregularly Shaped Boxes.

The very bane of my existence.
I demand perfection, dang it!

#32- Rumble Strips.

Did you know that's what they're called?
Huh. Learn something new everyday.

Kind of like 'Oh, Crap!' bars.
Did you know that's what they're called?
Ya know, those little handles on the ceiling of your car?

But the point is:
Never knew what to call em', always knew they were irritating.

#33- Oblivious/Incompetent People.

Try not to be confused.
When Facebook says, "Corin Haymore is revelling in the amount of incompetency some people display." do not interpret this to mean, "Corin Haymore is revelling in the amount of incontinency some people display."

Not the same thing people. Not the same thing.

Regardless, both must be avoided.

#34- Freeway Construction.

It's here, it's there, it's everywhere!
Plus, it brings out the bad driver in me
(and everyone else for that matter.)

And so, I would like to take this time to formally apologize to Gem and 'Da Twinneh', who I almost killed. By accident.

That light hasn't been there very long. Okay!
P.S. You guys should probably work on your frantic screaming. Just for future reference in case I ever decide to run another red light. Call me Rebel.

#35- Soggy Sandwiches.

Bread should not be soggy.
The very words themselves are oxymorons.

Someone should explain this to my dad.
He insists that shredding bread into a glass full of milk is delicious. Then again, he also eats peanut butter and lettuce sandwiches.

Ok. Nevermind. He's too far gone.

#36- Blamers.

I hate it when people don't take credit for their bad habits.

Stop claiming it's not your fault that you were pulled over because you didn't see the sign. Quit justifying that you can keep your house clean because your husband is really the messy one. Don't push your problems off on others because you're too insecure to just own up to it.

Blaming your height, parents, intellect, (I DON'T CARE WHAT!) is just plain ridiculous.

Take responsibility. Own up. Grow up.

Period.

#37- Hypocrites.

I feel like I may have already covered this at some point or another? But it's important so... listen up!

Don't tattletale on someone with a goldfish the day you bring home a puppy. Don't report a neighbor's weapon when you have an unsecured handgun lying around. Don't bemoan how horribly people drive as you walk in with a ticket. Don't self-righteously promote procedures that you aren't following yourself.

#38- Irritation.

I hate it.
I'll ask myself 'Why are you so irritated?'

And, wouldn't cha know, it irritates me.

#39- BSers.

You shouldn't talk if you don't know what you're talking about.
It's just that simple.

#40- Facebook Status Letters.

At one time, this was novel and entertaining. Even trendy I'd say.

Because, I have to admit, I laughed right out loud when someone invited me to join

'DEAR LORD, THIS YEAR YOU TOOK MY FAVORITE ACTOR, PATRICK SWAYZIE. YOU TOOK MY FAVORITE ACTRESS, FARAH FAWCETT. YOU TOOK MY FAVORITE SINGER, MICHAEL JACKSON. I JUST WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW, MY FAVORITE PRESIDENT IS BARACK OBAMA. AMEN.'

But then, whad'did people have to go and do? Make it the most cliche and irritating online social practice ever invented.

I can't tell you how many times a day I see statuses addressed to 'Dear Sun' or 'Dear Bed' or 'Dear Walmart'. Therefore, I have a little something to say...

Dear Facebook Users,
Please stop writing status letters and making my life miserable. Thanks!
Love,

So Quotably Quotable.

So... haven't posted much lately.
Can't decide whether it's because school started and I actually have a life (debatable) or because I've run out of oddities to document. Probably the latter, right?

Please stop laughing.

Okay! Fine! FINE!
If you're so intent on making me spill, I guess I'll just have to appease the masses.

Here is a random sampling of 'Life at Corinner-Elly's Apartment'. Part I. (Because I am sure this is just the beginning of what will turn out to be a very, very long documentary.)

I'd like to name this segment, 'The Nose Hair Removal Fiasco'. Please excuse the accidental few seconds at the end of the clip. I'm still trying to figure out my phone's video capabilities. It's a tricky little bugger...

Are you confused? Disgusted? Disturbed? Still reading?

I know I sound like a broken record, but we are buddies.
They're my best friends, that's it.

But, know what?
You guys really need to start acknowledging all of my movie quoting efforts. I'm feeling cinematically under-appreciated.

I bet you a million dollars that I've quoted at least one movie, if not more, in every post I've ever written. And so, I'm feeling bold, here's what I'm going to do!

If you can tell me not only what movie the above quote is from, but also list one movie from all of my other posts (there are only like fifty, don't be a baby), I will give you something.
Something amazing.

You can submit your guesses however you'd like.
Feel free to be creative. I will accept one ginormous comment on this post, comments on each of the individual postings specifically, answers spelled out in alphabet soup...
it's really up to you.

Kapeesh?
So ready, set... GO!

Oh, Canaduh...

What say ye we resort to a little roommate blackmailing?

Yes? Yes. (For more effective viewing pleasure, turn up the volume AS much as possible. I mean loud. Really, really loud. She can thank me later.)

In case you didn't catch the lyrics, here they are:

"Let's go all, the way tonight. No regrets. Just love.

We can dance, until we die. You and I.

We'll be young for-ever!

You. Make. Me. Feel like I'm living a, Teen. Age. Dream.

The way you turn me on. I can't sleep.

Let's runaway and don't ever look back.
Don't ever look back."

And who might our fantastic vocalist be, you ask?
(I know you're wondering why Katy Perry was showering at my apartment but let's think out of the box on this one...) Why, our resident Canadian. That's who.

Formerly referred to as Candy? Remember her? (See "I'm Just Sayin'.")

Well guess what.
As if it weren't the proudest moment of our young lives to have caught her shower serenading on tape, she was engaged less than 24-hours later in an oh-so entertaining twist to the story.

Because he. Makes. Her.
Feel like she's living a, teen. Age. Dream.

The way he turns her on.

We. Can't. Breathe.
They're always makin' out. (Creative liberties...)
Don't ever look back! Don't ever look back!

And now... the refrain...

No regrets, just love.
They're gonna dance until they die.
They'll be young forever!
(P.S.  I have it in good faith that the 'going all the way tonight' is postponed til' December.)

 

Whaaat!??

I feel as though I need to relate what rooming with my sister is really like. Correction. I feel like I need to relate what life in general with my sister is really like. I'm relatively positive that you may pity/envy/laugh at/pray for me.

To to live the true to life experience, here's what you need to do.

To begin, imagine this running through your mind, countless times a day and possibly throughout the night:


 
Next, sit down at your computer and blurt out an email like this:

"So I've decided that I am so bored at work all day that you have to write me at least 4 entertaining emails (one for each hour). Since you were not informed of this until now I will just have to write you one first. Be prepared for the most funny, BE-dazzling, AWEsome, CREAtive, UN-ENDing, GLORIFIED LIST OF QEUSTIONS 'O' LONGNESS (that you need to answer back or there might or might not be a bush in your bed or die in your shampoo! MUAhahah... well that might not work to well because you use my shampoo don't you...) What should I make for dinner since you won't be home until 7:00?? And... What time does the dance start on Friday?? And... is there anything going on Saturday that I forgot about?? And... Is Alese sleeping over this weekend?? And... Are you going out to moms house on Friday?? And... When is Talera's birthday?? And... What did you get her for a present?? And... I should have gotten that hat for her for her birthday?? And... I know that really wasn't a question and neither is this one but I cant lose the format?? And... So with those raises how much do you make now?? And... Ashlee was telling me the other day that she found a picture that you drew that other day and was laughing so hard the she couldn't tell her boyfriend why it was so funny, so i was wondering if you remember the picture, she said something about a barbie and a ken with chickens in the trees :P?? And... Do you use my shampoo? Because I don't see any for you?? And... guess who just walked into my office.... Jim Farnsworth?? And... There was just a weird bug running across my desks that is gross and It freaked me out so i covered it with a lid, and then.... he smooshed it with his fingers! Gross, huh?? And... I am starting to run out of questions so I will let you know when I think of some... Love ya lots tater tots!"

If you haven't passed out (or passed away) by this point, as your last step, proceed to write a response. Something that might end up looking like this:

"So, um..., you're clogging up my inbox and that's not good, I'm pretty sure. Because you remember when my roommate clogged up the toilet freshman year and left it for later to fix? Remember how that was the grossest thing ever? I had to throw away the plunger. That's how bad it was. But back to the point, you're clogging up my inbox. Yes, your emails are like poop. But I love... your... poop? Is this entertaining enough for you? (Personally, I am disgrosting myself out. How's THAT for a phrase?) Know what else? You kinda got carried away with that list of adjectives. Because pretty sure 'qeustions' is not spelled like that... And then there were apostrophes everywhere and yah. I notice stuff like that. Well FRICK Gem. When are you and Alese going to realize that putting a brush in my bed isn't funny! I think that joke is dead by now! I mean dead, dead. And when you're dead, you're dead! But the other threat is valid, no matter which spelling you use. Because, as it stands, your email just told me that you were going to die in my shampoo (which is really your shampoo) so, correction: you are going to die in your shampoo and this will be punishment?... to me?... somehow?... I am assuming you meant 'dye' but for now it is just too visually entertaining to stop imagining. AND NOW I'M HYPERVENTILATING BECAUSE I JUST DISCOVERED THAT BIG BANG THEORY AND COMMUNITY ARE PREMIERING ON THE SAME NIGHT, AT THE SAME TIME ON TWO DIFFERENT CHANNELS!!! That's it. I died. I'm dead. Dig a hole and bury me...

But until you do, I guess I can finish this email. You should make quesadillas for dinner. And while you're doing that, don't forget your Thursday dutiesh. Shuch ash shaying everything with the 'sh' shound. Thanksh. But I guessh I have to follow my own rulesh sho... here it goesh. The dance shtartsh at eight on Friday but the food beforehand shtartsh at shix. Shix? Shix. I like shaying that word. Shaturday morning is the Wymount opening shocial, sho you should (that one doeshn't work. shadnessh. :( ) probably come and eat shome hot dogsh and ride Dad'sh train. Aleshe might be shleeping over, I don't know for shure. I think I'll go do shome laundry at mom'sh houshe Shaturday afternoon. Talera'sh birthday is Sheptember 23rd. You already know what I got her for a preshent. Sheesh. (Blasht! Another one!) And now, I'm tired of anshwering endlessh queshtions. Sho... too bad, sho shad.

P.Sh. I like your bug shtory. It made me laugh.

Shmell ya later!"

If you made it through this training, I now pat your head proudly and stick a big, shiny gold star on your forehead.

I've tried to describe such sisterly interactions to others before and sadly...

Not many have survived.

You Can Talk to Birds?...

I love birds.
It seriously brings me immense inner joy to see them splash in a puddle or flap around the Walmart parking lot, searching for the smallest crumb.

And I'm sure you've all heard the infamous chicken stories revolving around the dramatics that ensued after a freak accident where a beloved pet rooster was mistaken for a noisy nuisance and turned into Sunday dinner.

Thus, I was scarred for life.

But the point is:
I save moldy bread for the ducks at BYU's botany pond.
Then I name them and shed a glistening tear when they get ploughed down on the crosswalk periodically.

Heck. I chose the Tracy Aviary as my birthday day trip destination this year.

The only problem is...

Birds hate me.
Or at least put on a good act.

When I was little, I shared a room with 'da twinneh' and every Saturday morning we'd throw open our window to feel the cool spring breeze and listen to the tweetings of the little sparrows that perched on a tree outside our window.

The little trill they sang sounded like they were saying "______ is a pretty-little-bird."

So 'da twinneh' would say, "Alese, is a pretty-little-bird." and (withOUT fail), they'd mimic her every time.

So I, encouraged by the joyful way in which they twirped to my sister, would happily scoot closer to the window to try it for myself.

"Corin is a pretty-little-bird.", I'd happily sing.

...

Nothing.

...

Perfect silence.

Then, they'd fall from the trees.
Dead.

Okay, so not really.
But it's kinda like Gem's thing with ladybugs.
She sees one and is all, "Oh! My new best friend!"

Then the little guy takes one look at her and flies directly into the nearest light and fries itself crispy.

Hehehe. :D That was a cheap shot.
But I just couldn't help myself.
(For a more accurate portrayal, please speak with Gem. Although I still hold that my version is entirely more entertaining.)

Bo-Daddy-Bo!

What I learned today:
There's always a reward for every good deed.

Like that time when I finally vacuumed out my car after months of neglecting shameful crumb build-up and found a perfectly good, un-opened fortune cookie under the seat.

WIN.

Unfortunately, this also works in reverse.

Like when my car increasingly became harder and harder to start until finally... it didn't.

FAIL.

Is this karma or something?
Am I being punished for crashing that Seven Peak's Waterpark activity that wasn't technically for my stake!?!

Come on! There was plenty of pizza to go around...

But, ya know what?
I had a hero come to my aid. I'm just that lucky.

He may not be faster than a speeding bullet, but he's still Superman to me.

So Daddy...
Remember when you let me drive your car to high school almost everyday and didn't even flinch when I had a few parking lot mishaps? (All, not my fault. Just so you know.)

And then, remember how you let me take that car to college, year after year after year even though I'm sure it was a major inconvience to you and Mom?

Remember those times when I hauled it back to the house so that you could change the oil or check the tire pressure on a car that you never got to drive and yet still paid insurance for?

To make matters worse, remember that time I called you to report that said car had run out of gas because I had mistakenly trusted that, at some point, the gas light should/would turn on?

And then as if that weren't enough, remember when it broke down on Center Street, a block from where you were peacefully working and I immediately called you?

Because I knew you'd do anything for me?

...

Remember when, you instantly dropped all of the important things you were doing and came to my rescue?

Remember how it took you minutes to determine what was wrong but still gave two do-gooder auto mechanics, who happened to be passing by, the opportunity to voice their opinion (meaning, bang around in the engine for a minute), fully knowing that you had far more experience/expertise in the matter?

Remember how you had all of the tools on hand and knew exactly what to ask for at Checker Auto Parts to finish the job?

Remember how said part cost a good chunk of cash, as in, I may have to donate plasma to cover the loss?

Remember how you lied on a dirty street under a filthy car in your nice work clothes to make the repair?

Remember how you got dirt flecks in your hair, grease stains under your fingernails and ruined a brand new shirt?

Remember how, as if anything could have gotten worse, it started raining and you laughed at me when I whipped out an umbrella to hold over us both because I am just that prepared?
(I am my father's daughter you know. :D)

Remember how the whole process required you to take a three hour lunch break?

Remember how you're the best dad in the history of the whole, wide world?

I Do.
And I'll never forget.

Stalking isn't Serendipitous.

I feel like 'It's a Small World' should be playing on a constant loop in the back of my head sometimes. I mean, what are the chances?

On second thought, if 'It's a Small World' was always playing on a constant loop in the back of my head, I just might have to impale myself on the closest sharp object. Because we all know how annoying that ride can be. And they don't even let you collect any of the ba-jillion coins along the way!

Rip-off artists...

But the point is: everywhere I turn, I see someone I know or someone who, under closer inspection, has some sort of tie to me.

Take for instance, my Family Finance class.
I shove my way through hoards of people into an auditorium with, at least, 2 million students trying to find somewhere to plant themselves. And who do you suppose I end up seated by?

A girl who just happens to be from Mt. Pleasant who happens to relate to my drive-in movie stories who happens to have a cousin who knows a kid who just happens to have been in my singles ward and so on and so forth.

Needless to say, we don't have trouble gossiping er'... talking.

And if that weren't enough, not ten minutes after thinking of re-connecting with someone who I haven't seen since freshman year, who should I pass en-route to my car?
You guessed it. (Cue Twilight Zone music.)

Then, I swear Gem comes home everyday from UVU with a new story about someone we know who is in her class or who she passed on campus or who taught her to longboard. And suddenly I'm feeling like closing the curtains because this is starting to feel like a creepy stalker moment.

(Hehehe... What is life without puns?)

Speaking of stalkers, wouldn't you say that boys are more inclined to be 'stalkers' in the everyday sense of the word?? I'm not talking innocent Facebook browsing.

Because, heaven knows, that is completely harmless.
Believe me. I know.

I'm talking 'unwanted, obsessive attention by individuals to others'. (Yes, thank you Wikipedia.)

Granted there are some girls who go out of their way to throw themselves at their current crush in the most ridiculous of ways, but in my experience, boys are much more likely to secretly track a girl's movements, likes, dislikes and various other details in attempts to woo her with their thoroughness.

The thing is, unless this attention is warranted and/or invited, it just comes across as creepy.

As in, 'I know you're staring at me from across the room so cut it out or I'm gonna prance over there and slap you silly'.

Does this sound at all familiar to anyone but me?
Cuz' it's practically the story of me life.

But I know what yer thinkin': "You have a public blog! Get over it!" And that isn't a completely un-warranted thought...

I suppose it's just a sacrifice I am willing to make.

Speaking of sacrifice, look what I made in the wee hours of the night under threat of death from my office management. Okay, okay. Maybe not threath of 'death' but certainly duress.

I think it turned out marvelously!

I mean, seriously. They hire a front desk attendant and whaddya' know? Her duties somehow magically expand to include graphic design, culinary artifice, children's activites, office decor, plant sustinance and beyond.

Not to mention, my mere presence imbues pure joy.

(Remember my first post about humility? Yah. Me too.)

I do believe a raise is in or-DAH!

Just as a sidenote, 'See You There!' is not an open invite to all stalkers. If I do 'see you there', woo boy, you're gonna wish you were never born.

I carry Mace.