My Assets are Frozen.

AH POOP.
I believe these were the words I shouted upon exiting my room this morning and looking out an exterior window. There was white filth all over my car.

I'm not talkin' about some practical joke gone wrong, I'm talkin' about the real thang. SNOW.

As in penguins and igloos and ice.

Scraping snow and ice off a car's windows in the frigid, accursed hours of the early morning, when you already happen to be late and didn't even eat any breakfast, is one of the most loathsome jobs there is.

So I made Gem do it.

In exchange for a piece of toast.
(Do I know how to bargain, or do I know how to BARGAIN?) 

But this sad state of events got me to thinking...
If I didn't happen to have a bed (or an apartment for that matter) and I lived the life of a traveling vagrant bum, I think I would definitely sleep under a tree.

Not like Pioneer Park in Salt Lake, were you can't tell if they're dead or just drunk.

Like a big fur tree. The kind with boughs that point downwards, making a little tent underneath their bottom-most branches. I'd definitely sneak under there for protection.

In fact, I've debated it several times on campus. No one would even know where I was...

When I told Gem this plan, she seconded its coolness factor but wondered how, exactly, I would survive under there??

"Easy." I answered, "I'd live off the squirrels."

"What??..." she countered, "You wouldn't kill a squirrel to save your life."

"Who said anything about killing poor defenseless woodland critters?" I questioned, "I would just share their nuts."

Her resulting burst of laughter prompted me to immediately knit my eyebrows.

Word of advice: before opening mocking me, you must always remember that, in MY world, anything's possible.

But I'm already tired of winter. I want more summer and autumn.
Unfortunately, my floral design class is the only place where this can still be a reality.

See what I've made:

Boutonnieres.

(Who even came up with that word? Why would you have a boot in your ear anyways?...)

Pumpkin Arrangement.

I am rather proud of this one.

It looks rather nice sitting on my dining table at home.

And I didn't even have to go out and buy a pumpkin. That's what happens when you have a faux-farmer for a father.

A faux-farmer of a father who's like the Little Red Hen.

A faux-farmer of a father I love. <3

A faux-farmer of a father who needs to fix my automatic car starter so I don't freeze my tushy off every morning.

Hmm...

Train of Thought.

Ever heard of Epic Fail Blog?
You can find some pretty darn funny stuff there.
I highly recommend it.

But the great news is: not many realize that anyone can make their own Epic Fail! Whether it be image or video.

That's the part where I come in.

Wouldn't cha know, over the weekend I recorded my very own epic video. 'Cept this time... it was a WIN.

The stage is set.
Characters: Mom, Daddy-O, Gem and Corinner-Elly
Location: Heber Valley Railroad on the Soldier Hollow Express (formally known as the Heber Creeper)
Date: October 16th, 2010
Time: approximately 3:18 PM, give or take
Color Worn: pink (is my fay-vor-it cuh-lah...)

Alright, here's your motivation.
Gem looks to be sleeping across from you on the bench.
Daddy-O decides to break up the stagnancy of the ride by placing a fake plastic mouse on Gem's arm.
Corinner-Elly feels tension as excitement begins to build over the pending prank.
Gem doesn't notice.
Gem lies there.

Gem may be dead?...

Corinner-Elly impatiently scoots the mouse closer, hoping that its tiny rodent nose might tickle her arm.
Corinner-Elly hopes she doesn't fall out the partially open window.
Mom and Daddy-O look on bemusedly.
Corinner-Elly has an epiphany and decides to record the whole ordeal on her phone.
Gem suddenly looks up.

Gem is suspicious.

Corinner-Elly begins to doubt whether or not their trick's success is obtainable.
Slight conversation ensues.

Enter hilarium.

BRILLIANT!

Cut, print, check the gate, moving on.

and now for a short learning moment.
*cue happy music, preferably on a flute*
Brought to you by: Corinner-Elly.

Things I Learned While Riding the Train:

1. It is impossible to walk a straight line down the aisle from one end of the train to the other, while in motion, without swaying, swaggering, side-stepping and possibly landing on a small child, happily seated with her grandmother. Killing them instantly.

2. Trying to imagine what it would have been like to have traveled by train in the olden days is harder to accomplish when you just purchased a corndog from the concessions caboose. Even harder when you steal some of your sister's nachos.
3. The slow rocking motion produced by a train that is traveling at a leisurely pace down a peaceful mountain landscape will almost always lull the parentals into a blissful state of delirium.

4. Sisters are not inclined to cooperate in pictures when you have recently played a prank that scared the bejeebies out of them.

Relations, however, often improve.

5. Train rides are always better when you have someone to enjoy them with. And I don't just mean the conductor. Though he did have some pretty wicked whistle/horn-blowing skills...

It also helps when you don't have to wolf your food down during a rushed lunch at 'The Hub' only to wait for an hour at the station because someone looked up the departure times wrong.

Good thing I'm so forgiving.

I Was Born for Greatness.

My parents knew for sure the very first time I was ever given the opportunity to try my hand at mowing the lawn on the riding lawn mower.

I climbed atop its gleaming rusty frame, queen of my very own yard maintenance universe, and cranked that baby into motion.

Everything was going well until, to my horror, I realized I had missed one tuft of grass in my hurry.

Determined to correct the error, I slammed to a screeching halt and yanked the shift stick to reverse, proceeding to back up.

"No biggie.", I thought. Things were going just peachy.

The sun was shining, the birds were singing, I was moving slowly backwards and life was good until I realized that, somehow, my original course of motion had veered.

I was going to miss the patch of grass! AGAIN!

Frantically, I spun the miniature steering wheel in one jerky motion. Panicked. As though I were captain of a ship lost at sea, throwing my weight into the helm, determined to save my crew.

And that is how dad found me.

Stuck. In reverse. Desperately crying for help while circling the same piece of grass that I had so ardently been trying to mow in retrospect.

Like I said: I was born for greatness.

At least that's what I told myself when I was finally pulled from the runaway machine and sentenced to a lifetime of servitude behind a push mower.

And sometimes, in the quiet moments of dusk, I can almost see that sinister mower sneering at me in the darkness.

Throwin' the Bull.

Gem's had a rough weekend. 
She thought she had it made. No school, no work.

Just livin' the high life. Until...
BLACKMAIL.

I know, I know.
How could it get any better, right?
(Props to Jenny Harrison of Design Gone Wild Photography for the fantastic photo.)

But looky here! I caught it all on video!

Stop judging the poor video quality.

I said STOP IT.

I asked Santa for a new camera for Christmas, alright?

What's really a shame is that I just missed her attempts at trying to actually get on the contraption.

I was pretty much a hysteric, wheezing mess by the end of that.

Others were subjected to the same fate.

This time horror reigned supreme.

and...



Probably had to change the bull out after that wild ride.

Let alone Zoe's undie pants...

But I say that's what you get for being a Team Jacob fan.

Deserter! Traitor! Benedict Arnold!
You shall live to rue this day.

P.S. To 'throw the bull' means to chat or gossip. Always wanted to know that, didn't cha?

If there's a Wil, There's a Way.

I have a special treat for you all this afternoon.
It involves a certain Honduran and his extreme makeover.

For privacy's sake, we'll call him Wilmer L.

No. Wait...

W. Lara.

And so enters part II of saga: 'Life at Corinner-Elly's Apartment'. (I told you it'd be an on going investigation...)

In case you didn't catch on, I'll give you quick run down.

Lera has a class project.
Lera decides to have W. Lara put on mascara for the assignment.
W. Lara tries his best but is lacking in the makeup application skills area of expertise.

W. Lara's man card bursts into flames.

Gem decides to enhance his unfortunate attempt.
Corinner-Elly happens upon the scene.
W. Lara is so pretty.
Gem is creating a 'smoky eye' effect.
W. Lara has been trained well and resists the urge to twitch/blink.
Lera declares Corinner-Elly 'has to put this on Facebook!'
Corinner-Elly wants to see the finished product.
Gem states that, not only will it be good, it will be Wil-a-licious.
W. Lara questions if this will seriously be put on Facebook?...
Corinner-Elly responds that it may end up on her blog.

Gem doesn't have a bra on.

Gem cries defensively , "Don't look at me!"
W. Lara announces that as long as he's embarassed, so is she.
Gem whines.
Lera laughs hysterically on Gem's bed while wheezing, "That's my boyfriend!"...
Lera concludes, "He wants to be Adam Lambert."
Corinner-Elly dies of laughter.

Death by Cricket.

One day I'll die.
It's a certifiable fact. There's no way out of it. You're going to die.
I'm going to die.

It's going to happen.

But the point is, today I figured out how it's going to go down.
There are three options:

A) I will be nonchalantly strolling on BYU campus when a killer grasshopper will unsuspectingly shoot out of the bushes and land on my pantleg. I will then die of fright and possibly crush the culprit in a dramatic death faint.

B) I will swallow a cricket in my sleep and choke to death.

C) I will be violently attacked by an orchestra of Mormon crickets while vacationing upon which time they will carry me into the forest. I'll never be heard from again.

*Sidenote* When I say an 'orchestra' of crickets, I do not mean a large group of musical insects who play instruments in a soothing and synchronized manner. That's really what a group of crickets is called. Don't believe me? Look it up.

To be safe, there is also option D, which involves being attacked by a horde of crickets/grasshoppers while sleepwalking on BYU campus at which point I will die of fright while simultaneously choking on one of the little beasts as they drag me into the bushes.

But those chances aren't as likely.

All I know is, that when I hear a rustle in the bushes or see any type of hopping bug in my path, time stops and my vision instantly magnifies by 200% until I see this staring at me...

Cue HORROR.

Sure, there are always exceptions.
For example, Jiminy Cricket sings about wishing on stars.
How menacing can that be?

And Crickee, on Mulan, is one lucky bug.

What you mean, a loser? How 'bout if I pop one of your antennas off and throw it across the yard? Then who's the loser, me or you?

On the other hand, further solidifying my argument, there is Hopper from A Bug's Life. That guy is truly evil incarnate.

I mean, look at his face!
ANGRY EYES with teeth all clenched and terrifying. (Do grasshoppers have teeth?... Great. Yet another thing to worry about.)

I attribute this acute aversion of all hopping pests to a certain childhood memory. Let me recite:

One day, Corinner-Elly was eating her lunch all happy and carefree-like. This was because she was eating a drumstick from one of her most favoritest places ever: KFC. She smiled and chewed and hummed and decided that the world was a good place and love was indeed fried. All too soon, she came to the end of her meal. Full to the brim and pleasantly satisfied, she leaned back to swallow the last few gulps of milk in her cup when, there, at the bottom of her glass, suddenly...

she saw IT.

Later, upon revival and subsequent hospitalization, she came to learn that a cricket infestation had taken place in the dishwasher earlier that month and she had become the unfortunate recipient of one of its casualties.

Or at least part of a casualty.

And that, dear children, is why Corinner-Elly was never able to eat KFC again. Or at least never accompanied by a glass of milk.

The End.

Semi-Grand Tour

And now, ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present... *drumroll please*

My Apartment!
Well. The kitchen, at least.

I can't help but be proud of it. After all, it has been pieced together over the course of four years during various scrounging missions to the D.I. and dollar store. Not to mention all of the free junk I've been given. 'Junk' meant with all the love possible.

Our first exhibit: The Infamous Bakers Rack.

Bakers Rack: $35.00- found on KSL.
Plant: $10.00 for the red pot- grown from a clipping at my office.
Cookbooks & recipe magazines: free/forcibly given (in some instances).
Candles w/stands: $5.00- mismatched from D.I. and dollar store.
Photo carousel: $3.00- at D.I.
Cookie Jar: $1.00- at D.I., lid stolen from my mom &  repainted
Magnet recipe board: $2.00- at D.I.
Picnic basket: free, abandoned in one of the Wymount basements
Fall decorations: $10.00- at Dollar Tree

Stop two: Kitchen Table and Black Picture Frame Wall.

Table: (gratefully) not mine

Chairs: $10.00 a piece at D.I.- reimbursed by landlord

Placemats: free- stolen from home

Pampered Chef treat tote: free, stolen from home

(are we noticing a trend?...)

Variety of black frames: $15.00 collectively

Glass cube flower arrangement: free (in manner of speaking)- made during this week's floral design lab.

On a sidenote:

You'll be happy to know that I gave my creation to a 'supposedly' sick invalid as an expression of goodwill. 'Da Twinneh' was grateful for the gesture but didn't appear especially ill. Faker? Perhaps.

That girl will do anything for free egg drop soup, cream cheese wontons and flowers.

Around the corner you'll find the: Window Seat.

My pride and joy.
You can't really tell from this picture, but the base has three compartments, yet to be filled with an assortment of items in need of storage.

And for a closer look:

Now, for the break down.

Three throw pillows: $6.33 at Kohl's- call me the world's best coupon clipper

Bench: free minus a few bucks for the paint- my Dad helped me make it over the weekend

Cushions & fulcrums (of sorts): free- salvaged/created from some old camper cushions and drapes that used to hang in my sister's house

Various doo-dads: mostly free, a couple bucks for the frame

I never cease to amaze myself.

Which leads us to the main event: The Kitchen.

Boy Howdy, I wish I could add a splash of color on the walls. Someday.

A description of expenses in this room would take ten-gazillion years so, suffice it to say:

I found the rug stuffed in the bushes at a prior apartment.

The wrought iron wall art used to be wall sconces that were accidentally broken in the process of being hung. I suppose it's apropos that I like them better this way?...

Pretty much everything else has come to me free of charge but let's face it.

That's just how I like it.

We're coming to our last stop: The Sad & Lonely Refrigerator

I take that back. I guess he has the garbage can for company.

Some consolation that is...

The main purpose of this view is to show of our adorable aprons, all sewn by muah. We're so crafty.

All this tourin' is making me tired. Which reminds me...

I didn't even make my bed.

I know what you're thinking: Who hacked Corinner-Elly's account and is spreading such malicious falsehoods?!

But tis' true. Tis' true.

I'm morphing into a normal person who doesn't ceremoniously make her bed every morning.

I sense some disbelief.