Well, on my forehead at least.
And I've come to two conclusions:
1) I do not like the word 'zit'. Saying it makes me feel like a high-schooler again. I've decided to replace it with 'blemish'. Much more refined, no?
-AND-
2) I'm 22. Why am I still getting blemishes?...
Okay, okay. To be fair, I don't get nearly as many as I used to.
In fact, I hardly get any at all.
But when I do, why do they have to be the ginormous, third-eye kind?
And why do they have to appear when I will be visible to the public? Like on Sundays and... every other day... Never mind. Bad example.
Speaking of Sundays, is it just me or do people mispronounce words during their talks quite frequently? I mean, it's understandable. I, of all people, understand the terror that comes along with public speaking.
Every talk I've ever written has been shot to he** as soon as I stand in front of that pulpit. I'll have worded it out beautifully and rehearsed it several times, but inevitably, my one goal changes from doing well and inviting the Spirit to focusing all my energies on not passing out.
I'll get back to my seat and have absolutely no idea what I just said.
Which makes me wonder how many words I've flubbed up?
My favorites from yesterday were 'apathetical' instead of 'apathetic' and 'lackadaisic' instead of 'lackadaisically'.
Snickering at people's mistakes is fun and all, but it makes me miss having kids running around the building. That's the problem with singles wards. Kids make church entertaining. I love how they're always perfectly honest, even when it comes across as mildly insulting.
Not to mention they're funnier than heck.
I was lucky enough to have my four nieces with me yesterday, which was a sight indeed at a BYU singles ward. They were the talk of the ward.
'Talk' used here intentionally, because that's all they did. Loudly.
Not quite sure how the bishop felt about that?...
But we all burst out laughing over something six-year-old Messy-Jesse said.
She was sitting by my roomie, Lacy-Hacy, who was helping her doodle on one of the announcements and write random words.
"How do you spell your name?", she asked innocently.
"Here. Let me write it down and then you can copy it.", Lacy-Hacy responded.
After it had been scrawled out in a single flowing line, Messy-Jesse looked at it confusedly for a moment before exclaiming, "Not in SPANISH!"
She later informed us that she had meant to say 'cursive' but it had come out wrong. Needless to say, it was hilarious.
But it's moments like this when I forget all about the giant crater on my face and become endlessly grateful for the 18 (soon to be 19!) little munchkins in my life.
Speaking of Sundays, is it just me or do people mispronounce words during their talks quite frequently? I mean, it's understandable. I, of all people, understand the terror that comes along with public speaking.
Every talk I've ever written has been shot to he** as soon as I stand in front of that pulpit. I'll have worded it out beautifully and rehearsed it several times, but inevitably, my one goal changes from doing well and inviting the Spirit to focusing all my energies on not passing out.
I'll get back to my seat and have absolutely no idea what I just said.
Which makes me wonder how many words I've flubbed up?
My favorites from yesterday were 'apathetical' instead of 'apathetic' and 'lackadaisic' instead of 'lackadaisically'.
Snickering at people's mistakes is fun and all, but it makes me miss having kids running around the building. That's the problem with singles wards. Kids make church entertaining. I love how they're always perfectly honest, even when it comes across as mildly insulting.
Not to mention they're funnier than heck.
I was lucky enough to have my four nieces with me yesterday, which was a sight indeed at a BYU singles ward. They were the talk of the ward.
'Talk' used here intentionally, because that's all they did. Loudly.
Not quite sure how the bishop felt about that?...
But we all burst out laughing over something six-year-old Messy-Jesse said.
She was sitting by my roomie, Lacy-Hacy, who was helping her doodle on one of the announcements and write random words.
"How do you spell your name?", she asked innocently.
"Here. Let me write it down and then you can copy it.", Lacy-Hacy responded.
After it had been scrawled out in a single flowing line, Messy-Jesse looked at it confusedly for a moment before exclaiming, "Not in SPANISH!"
She later informed us that she had meant to say 'cursive' but it had come out wrong. Needless to say, it was hilarious.
But it's moments like this when I forget all about the giant crater on my face and become endlessly grateful for the 18 (soon to be 19!) little munchkins in my life.
No comments:
Post a Comment