Swallowing my Pride.

Facebook is a funny thing.
In one respect, it's like a journal. Logging pictures and thoughts and events for many people on a daily basis. And I think that's a good thing for the most part. It's turned personal history into something entertaining and easy to do.

On the other hand, it's very unlike a journal, in that others can read and comment on what would otherwise be very private. This can also be a good thing. But it can also very easily be a bad thing.

You can never really tell who to trust in real life, let alone a virtual reality. And you never really know who is going to read what you post or how they are going to respond.

Sometimes, after reading what others have said, I have the distinct urge to delete what I consider to be very rude comments. But over the years, I've decided it's a much better policy to simply ignore them and leave it be. Not only does this allow them to stew in their own mean juices for the world to read, it also prevents me from having to explain why their comment(s) is suddenly missing. I'm all about avoiding confrontation.

I'd like to think that when this happens that I'm simply misreading their words when they really didn't intend it to sound that way, but sometimes I really don't think there is another interpretation.

That's another funny thing about virtual communication. Audible inflections and tone of voice used in face-to-face interactions can go a long way.

In the same breath, I know things that I've written have been misinterpreted. I've gotten the impression that my words sometimes come across as prideful or conceited, and I really, truly don't mean them that way.

I think being 'proud' and being 'prideful' are really two different things.
I'm 'proud' of my talents, but I try not to be 'prideful' about them.

For instance, I'm proud of the fact that I recycle used ink cartridges at Office Max and use the rewards points to get 40 free postage stamps every month. Saves the planet and my wallet. But I don't use said stamps to mail out letters informing everyone else how much smarter than them I am.

Just like I'm proud of the mini cheesecakes I made for a Sunday family dinner. I think they looked nice, tasted good and were an excellent usage of a few ingredients I had lying around that would have otherwise gone stale/bad.

The husband had purchased a large bag of broken shortbread cookies from the Pepperidge Farm Thrift Store in Richmond, and turns out they were the perfect crumb crust when granulated and mixed with melted butter.

But I don't post this to demonstrate my superior baking skills. (Two words: wedding cake. Enough said.) And hopefully you don't think that when you read this.

Same thing goes with Facebook. Hopefully sharing the things I'm proud of doesn't come across as prideful.

I think it's perfectly understandable to feel pride in your work. I think the problem comes in when you change the motive behind what you say/do from a feeling of accomplishment to a desire to make yourself look better than others.

Just a little 'food for thought'. (ba dum dum.)

But if, by chance, you think this came across as a self-conceited spiel of why I'm more efficient than the average Corinner-Elly, I'll try and teach my blog self a bit more humility.

I Swear on My Life.

I know how much you all love 'storytime', so I thought I'd oblige you today. This excerpt came from a recent conversation I had with my mother and it went a little something like this:

Me: *ring*
Mom: "Hello?"
Me: "Hi."
Mom: "Hi!"
Me: "Hi... How's your day been going?"
Mom: "Pretty good."
Me: "What did you do?"
Mom: "Gardened. Yoga. Made bread. The usual. You?"
Me: "Went to work. Took a nap. The usual."
Mom: "Huh."
Me: "Yah... so... just calling so that you feel all loved and everything and know I'm still alive."
Mom: "Well that's good. Thank you." (Notice refusal to acknowledge sarcasm.)
Me: "Okay... well... love you."
Mom: "Love you too. Wait, wait, wait. I have something to talk to you about." (insert concern) "I was looking over your Facebook wall recently and there seems to be a whole lot of profanity going on there. I want to you know, I do not approve."
Me: *laughing incredulously* "Please define 'a whole lot' of profanity. I need examples."
Mom: "Well there was that word spelled out by blocks in your room..."
Me: "That was compliments of Lacy-Hacy."
Mom: "And what about that sign on the back of your door?"
Me: "Oh, right. That was definitely me."
Mom: "I don't think it's very fitting for a young lady to be using such language. I'm sure boys find it very inappropriate."
Me: "I'm sure boys find it hilarious."
Mom: *disapproving silence*

Which leads me to my topic of 'blog'scussion for the day.
(I just made that word up. It just popped right out of my head.)

Swearing vs. profanity.
I, for one, believe there is a distinct difference between the two.

For instance, I find it extremely entertaining when someone who you would never have guessed to be a potty-mouth, spouts out a curse word as if they're some bad A.

The perfect example being Sheldon from TBBT.
Declarations of "Damn you wallet nook dot com." and "Oh, gravity. Thou art a heartless bitch." bring me immense amounts of joy. Because to me, jovial cursings aren't vulgar.

It's when someone uses these words in an angry or confrontational manner that I become uncomfortable. And I've been hearing quite a bit of that lately.

Namely, I'm pretty sure my boss suffers from Tourettes Syndrome.

I'll be sitting at my desk, looking all pretty and pleasant when I hear a stream of obscenities a mile long filter past my desk. The first time it happened, I looked around nervously, trying to verify that everyone else had heard what I just heard.

There was no reaction. Not even a blink of an eye.
Thinking it rather strange but not wanting to seem impertinent, I falteringly went on with my duties.

But alas. It happened again. And again.
I am beginning to think that I'm going a bit craysee-craysee.

Because, apparently, I am supposed to refer to customers as 'guests', be as welcoming as possible and always, ALWAYS assume that they are right.

Whereas, management is allowed to pawn off visitors to various departments, stomp around melodramatically and delight all surrounding ears with the melodious mixings of venom filled expletives.

So, swearing isn't always profanity.
Is it just me, or would you agree?

I mean, swear words are just words. Their connotation comes from the method and the intent with which you use them.

It's like how my group of girl friends lovingly refer to each other as 'hoes' and 'skanks'. (But never sl**. That's unnecessary...) It means absolutely nothing to us, because of course we don't mean it in the literal sense of the words.

The amusement comes from the irony in calling a bunch of Molly-Mormons harlots.

But accidentally yell "You hoe!" when your mother intentionally sprays you, your freshly baked banana bars and all of your clean clothes with the hose upon immediately stepping out of your vehicle , and all hell's going to break loose.

Sorry Mom.
"Heck."

You Know You're a Haymore If...

As of late, I've been getting certain crap from a certain friend (who shall remain unnamed for the time being) regarding whether or not Lake Shore is a legit town.

I hold that if a community is large enough and organized enough to hold a 'community days' each year, then they are definitely fo realz.

He claims that because you don't technically put 'Lake Shore' on the envelope, it's really more of a pretend area of Spanish Fork.

Ruuuuuude.

In addition, when I was in London, whenever we'd take the train out of Chelmsford into the city, we'd have to walk through a small hobbit tunnel, as I liked to call it.

It was probably only six feet in diameter (at most) which made it a good topic of conversation as to who would fit and who wouldn't. Naturally, my sister's six-foot-six husband was vetoed.

Both of these scenarios lead me to begin contemplating the strange facets of human experience that make my family my family. And thus, my You Know You're a Haymore If... list was born.

Prepare yourself. This one's a doozy.

1. You know where Lake Shore, Utah is.
2. You measure everything by asking, "Would Drew fit?"
3. You think you're always right.
4. You think everyone else should always think you're right.
5. The first thing you mention when you introduce someone new is the word 'Kyle'.
6. Your favorite past time is judging/mocking others.
7. You are mildly insulted by #6.
8. You shiver at the very mention of 'chutnanya'.
9. You've had poop thrown at you while riding a miniature train.
10. You know what a 'chester drawers' is.
11. Your mom makes the best homemade bread in the world.
12. You have more brothers and sisters than you do close friends.
13. Your brother is commonly mistaken for Brad Pitt.
14. You think the difference between an ostrich and an emu is the way their knees bend.
15. You believe everything your dad has ever said. (See #14.)
16. You ever asked if it was 'porch time' as a child.
17. You are extremely talented.
18. You are amazingly good looking.
19. You are the humblest person you know.
20. You agree with everything on this list.

I can only think of 20 presently, but I'm sure the list will grow.
After all, I am a Haymore. Which is awesome.

If you have any doubts, please refer to the above list.
#18 especially.

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.

Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo

I wish I had a bubble that followed me around.

Since school started today, I am reminded now more than ever how heavy-laden I have once again become. You'd think, with three years of college behind me, that I'd've learned to pack lightly but no....

Because experience has proven that:

A) If I don't take my umbrella it will rain.

B) If I don't take my webcam, power brick and cell phone charger, I won't be able to call home about not being able to webchat on my dying laptop. (Which is amazing because I don't even take my laptop to class.)

And eventually,
C) If I don't take my deck of '52 Fun Things to Do in the Car', I will most definitely be stuck in an obnoxiously long car ride with absolutely nothing to do.

See the dilemma?
I'm a glutton for punishment.

Which brings me back to the point.
I wish I had a bubble that followed me around.

You know. An invisible storage compartment that drifted with me everywhere I go. Fairy Godmother-esque.



I'd be walking around campus, not a care in the world, free of all purses, backpacks and other such contraptions when, suddenly, someone would ask:

"Do you have a pen?"

I'll check my pockets and look around quickly. Then realize something.

"Oh!" I'll exclaim, "I forgot. I put it away."

Then BAM. I'll pull whatever I'm lacking right out of thin air.
It'll be genius.

Oh, and P.S.
As long as we're on the Cinderella train of thought, I found this comic a while back and thought it was hilarious.
And kind of ironic.
And kind of sad.

But mostly just hilarious.

And plus, the prince looks like Raj (aka. Rajesh Ramayan Koothrappali) from BBT. And he has googly eyes. You can never go wrong with googly eyes.

Well shoot.
Dang me, dang me. Ya' better take a rope n' hang me.

I keep forgetting about the pictures I've taken until, one day, I'm randomly sifting through my phone's memory and find this.

These were my second attempt at Champagne Cupcakes, except not quite so naked this time. I made them for my ex-co-worker's last day together on the job.

Good news is: our Scrabble tourney ended in a dead tie.
And therefore, we parted on amicable terms.
(I can say amicable if I dang well want to you stinky maintenance workers! hmph.)

Bad news is: I'm all alone now. Just a sad, miserable little desk attendant with no one to whup in Scrabble. :( Plus, now I have to do all of her work. Curses....

But allow me a last hurrah.

Farewell Em!
I miss you more and more every day!

And that's not just because I have a stack of paperwork from here to Timbuktu waiting for me.
Except kinda. But not really.

This womps.
To make matters worse, the Blue Screen of Death is back again.

Did I kick a puppy or something accidentally?
Must be karma.

Must'a Done Somethin' Good

I love green arrows.
They're a sign that God loves me.

You know what I mean. When you're trying to get to somewhere that requires you to drive through a gazillion-billion-trillion stoplights? And then, to your horror, you realize that you'll have to make a left at the next intersection and the light just plinked to yellow!!!

*Commence screaming.*

But no, wait! A shaft of light has broken through the swirling darkened clouds, to illuminate the most beautiful thing on God's green Earth.

An arrow. (Which also happens to be green.)

Breathe a sigh of relief because it is quite evident that some all-omnipotent power is watching over you.

Know what else is proof?
The DI.

Where else can you sort through piles of seemingly useless stuff in hopes of finding a real beaut'?

I love thrift shopping. Love, love, love. Gem will try to persuade you never to accompany me to the Dollar Store or DI. Don't listen to her. She's so full of it her eyes are turning brown.

And just as proof, here are just a few samples of my treasures.

I've decided that this is my color. (In case you were wondering after viewing my blog background theme...) I must have at least three articles of clothing in a variation of the exact same hue.

The only problem is that this jacket in particular must've been made in a box factory. Cuz' the thing was square as can be.

Well, not any longa'! Heh, heh.

I added two wide pleats on either side of the main structural back seam and now it's a fitted jacket in the prettiest color ever invented. Woo baby!

I also picked up this white blouse with gold and platinum pinstripes. I knew it had real potential from the moment I laid eyes on it.

Since the beginning of my TLC watching days, Stacie and Clinton from 'What Not to Wear' have advised me to accentuate the waist with wrap dresses & tops and to elongate the torso with vertical stripes.

Done and done.

The only problem was that it had nasty long cuffed sleeves which were anything but flattering.

But that didn't scare me one bit.
I used the fabric that was removed to make a wide button-less cuff for a short sleeve variation that turned out rather well if I do say so myself.

In fact, I am wearing it now.
At this very moment.

And by Jove, it looks good!

But let's not forget the last, and probably most important, way that I know God loves me.

After the laptop doctor did all that he could possibly do, aside from mountain-moving miracles, my laptop was still malfunctioning.

That was, until it decided to fix itself.
Crazy, I know.

After hard-shutting it off for the ump-teenth time, it decided to correct various system errors. Yes, tis' true. It will survive.

I'm just glad that I was finally given the Blue Screen of Life for once. "What's that?", you say?

Only just about the most thrillingly joyful appearance.

The Blue Screen of Death is much more ominous. Observe.

Dun, dun, DUHN!

See? Didn't that sound terrifying?
Ya know. Life would be so much better with sound effects.

'Da Twinneh' and I have discussed it many a time.
We're not talkin' personal theme music, although that, at times, is extremely entertaining.

We're talkin' eye plinks, shoe squishes and thought bubble pops. Spongebob style.

With screeching halts (literally), percussively intense death glares and un-realistically loud gestures.

The whole SHEbang.

*sigh*

Maybe someday...
If I'm really good.

Everyday's a Holiday!

Yup. That's right.
You're allowed to lounge around in your jammies, eat whatever you want and take a ridiculously long nap.

EVERY DAY.

Okay... so not exactly.
But you can celebrate each new day 'as if' it were a holiday.

In fact, someone has even gone so far as to compile a list of 'US National Holidays' just for your viewing and celebrating pleasure.
HERE.

As you may have well realized by now, today is 'National Festival of Popular Delusions Day'.

Can I hear a collective "Huhn?..."

Let me spell it out for ya.

'National' meaning 'of or relating to a nation'.

*Sidenote: If, in the near future, you should be in need of a definition, never fear! Simply add 'of or relating to' in front of a shorter variation of the word and wah-LAH. Instant success.*

'Festival' meaning 'of, relating to, appropriate to, or set apart as a festival.

Hold on. Is it just me or is including the word itself in its own definition considered a big 'no-no'?

Oh Merriam and Webster.

You tricky devils.

'Of' meaning... um... okay. If I have to define 'of' for you, you are out of the herd FUR SHUR.

'Popular' meaning 'of or relating to the general public'.

Or that extremely annoying song from Wicked.

And last but not least, 'delusions'. Meaning 'the act or state of being deluded'.

Now are we clear? Or are you seriously questioning my sanity? Either way, I think I'll continue.

To commemorate such a blessed day, I thought I'd compile my top ten list of Corinner-Elly's popular delusions. Enjoy.

#1- I suffer from Tater-Tot Syndrome.

If you aren't familiar with said disease, I shall try to explain.

First off, tater-tots are debatedly one of the most delicious things on the whole darn planet.

Secondly, sometimes my hands work more quickly and efficiently than my brain.

And third, don't believe a word 'da twinneh' says. She's a compulsive liar. (see #2)

#2- 'Da twinneh' is a compulsive liar.

Okay. Maybe I was exaggerating a tad but my version of the story is always better.

#3- Incessantly correcting bad grammar will make a difference.

But, by golly, I'm still gonna do it.

#4- A clean plate is a happy plate.

Okay. No matter what anyone says, this statement is TRUE. And to all you wasters out there who leave three lonely grains of rice on your Mi Rancherito platter I say "for shame!" and proceed to slap your hand.

#5- Drowned worms need saving.

How can words express my horror after viewing the carcass covered sidewalk each rainy day?

#6- Wearing heels is always practical.

I attribute my 'man calves' to this falsehood.

#7- Chicken is delicious.

True that, right? Except in certain cases where a person had a certain pet chicken who was their pride and joy then a certain someone, appropriately nicknamed 'CK', pronounced a death sentence upon its head for harmless early morning crowing.

All hypothetical, of course.

#8- No hairstyle is complete without some sort of adornment.

Apparently, some people think feathers should stay on birds and not in my hair.

#9- Baby oil is made from babies.

Come on folks.

Corn oil is made from corn. Olive oil is made from olives.

How else are we to explain things?

#10- Someday, I may be considered 'normal'.

*pfft.* Like that's ever gonna happen.

Leave the Sewin' to the Women.

Firstly, I do believe I need to clarify what it means to be Corinner-Elly. There is some confusion on the subject and I would like to clear things up.

To begin with, Corinner-Elly never b****es. She just muses. Politely.

Secondly, Corinner-Elly loves to share her creativity with others. However, this does in no way nullify the disclaimer made in regards to sarcasm. *see 'Why, Hullo There.'*

And thirdly, Corinner-Elly is friends with all peoples and woodland creatures.
Specifically: talking mice.

So.
Moving on to more important matters.
Last night, I was delighted to be part of 'Sewing Night 2010'.
Also referred to as 'Night of Chaos 2010' by some.

My sister, four nieces and I compiled our resources and got a sewin'. Here are some of the fantasmical results of our efforts.

We succeeding in making roughly 2 1/2 beach bags for this summer's swimming adventures.

All with minimal amounts of crying & bickering and maximum amounts of teasing & laughter.

And as if that weren't enough, I was richly rewarded upon being bestowed this adorable scripture bag; made from the leftover beach bag scraps.

See?
Being Corinner-Elly is fun.
(and even if it wasn't, of course she'd never say so.)

Why, Hullo There.

I see you've stumbled upon my newest creation:
Corinner-Elly.

A site of wonderment and creativity.

So named due to the never-ending throng of people clamoring for my ingenuity. 'Every time I find a minute, that's the time that they begin it.'

And, let's face it, I'm the humblest person I know.

Therefore.
Here I will post my latest projects, my most recent idiosyncrasies and the musings of an OCD female.
(CDO, if you'd like to be alphabetically correct. and you would)

Welcome to the magical world of anality.

*Disclaimer:  Those unable to neither comprehend nor appreciate sarcasm are hereby warned and advised to find entertainment elsewhere. However, seeing as how all entertainment derives from sarcasm, I would suggest simply staring at the wall until you slowly drift into madness. Thank you.*