"I don't think saying 'toesies' makes you sound manly in ANY context."

Today, as I was walking home from school, I was suddenly afflicted with a case of the hiccups. If you know me at all, this is not unusual.

Eight minutes later, I was still hiccuping. "Self," I thought to myself, "if you keep this up for long enough, you might break a world record!"

My hiccups stopped immediately. Go figure.

Have a caffeine-free weekend.

Once upon a time, I had a roommate we'll call Miscilla. (Hi, Miscilla!)  When she got ready in the morning, she would sometimes leave her pants unzipped until the last possible moment.

And let's be honest, my friends, I judged.

But these days, I've come to embrace her ways. Buttoning and zipping up pants just seems so burdensome these days. And buckling the belt? Good heavens! Who do you think I am, Wonder Woman?

Maybe I'll properly fasten my pants before Jacob and I go out tonight. Or promptly after they fall down. Whichever comes first.

EDIT: Um, I just realized that this entry makes it sounds like I'm pregnant. Which I most definitely am NOT. So don't get any funny ideas.

For nonjudgers only.

I like free food. A lot. To the point where I'm seriously contemplating having Jacob and I attend my current stake's institute after we're married just for the free dinner they serve afterward. (I have not yet mentioned this to him. But I'm sure if I flash my winningest (read: cheesiest) smile at him, he'll agree to it. Especially if I end up serving cereal for dinner three nights a week.)

But I think my love of free food has escalated to an unhealthy level. Allow me to explain:

Today I got my grubby little hands on a free brownie outside of the Wilkinson Center. I walked inside the Wilk because I had to mail something off, and I was trying to juggle the brownie, my sandwich, and a flier all at the same time.

In case you weren't aware, I'm not really one for jugglin'.

Before I knew it, the brownie tumbled out of my hands onto the floor. I hurriedly scooped up the brownie, peeled the frosting off the tile (it had fallen off the brownie in the snafus), and quickened my pace to escape the scene of the crime.

And then when I had walked about ten feet away, I shoveled the whole mass of chocolate into my mouth. I feel no shame. (C'mon, tell me you didn't see that coming.)

And that's why I shouldn't be allowed to have children.

"I'm making a hexagon!" -- Heather

Me: I'd like to announce that this is the second night in a row I'm not eating cereal for dinner.

Roommates: [quite literally burst into cheers and applause]

Me: Last night I made soup!

Roommate: What are you eating now?

Me: A burrito.

Roommate: You're going to be the best wife ever.

Slow news day.

Provo, UT –
Jennifer Sudweeks has made some egregious errors of judgment in the past, but she’s trying to clean up her act.

Sudweeks, a 20-year-old student at Brigham Young University, has been hording Tupperware containers of refried beans in her apartment’s refrigerator. But just this last week, she whittled the number of containers from four to one.

“I, erm, may or may not have a tendency to open a new can of refried beans before checking to see if I have some already stashed away,” Sudweeks said.

Sudweeks usually eats dinner with her older sister Heather, whom she lives with. However, as Heather is an accountant and this is the peak of tax season, she works late hours and Sudweeks is left to fend for herself. And this means she eats burritos two or three times a week.

“Yes, I have the most monotonous diet of anyone I know,” Sudweeks said. “I can’t even begin to count how many burritos I’ve consumed since the beginning of tax season.”

However, one of Sudweeks’ former roommates said that the problem of storing refried beans in the refrigerator has been long lasting.

“She [Sudweeks] would put her leftover beans in the refrigerator and then completely forget about them,” Jessica Mitchell said. “And then when I had to clean out the refrigerator, they would smell nasty foul.”

Sudweeks disagreed with Mitchell’s assessment of the beans’ stench, claiming instead that the odor was “potent.”

Cari Dahl, another of Sudweeks’ roommates, tries to be open-minded about the situation, but sometimes she struggles.

“I definitely had my judging eyes on when Jennifer suggested she use carbon dating to determine how old the latest container of beans was,” Dahl said. “And the unsettling thing is, she ate them anyway.”

Sudweeks justified her actions by saying that refried beans almost never go bad.

“The smell might kick you in the face, but they still taste just as savory in a burrito,” Sudweeks said. “As long as they aren’t petrified, you’re good to go.”

"Clear pee is happy pee."

For dinner today I made some delicious (read: straight from a can) tomato soup. I was dipping my spoon into my bowl at the same time I was trying to read for a class, and I was having a hard time concentrating on the ol' textbook. There had to be a better way to study and eat at the same time.

So I whipped out a straw and proceeded to drink my soup through that instead.

It was remarkably efficient.

"Let's just say that lately there's been more bounce in California."

Cari: "Now I just need motivation to get off the couch."
Jennifer: "Your pants are on fire!"

It didn't work. Sigh.