How?  We managed to fangle a giant TV from his friend’s parents, who were just going to throw the thing away.  And I mean, this thing is huge.  Pre-flat-screen-huge.  82-inch screen, two feet from front to back.  It was interesting to fit it into our tiny apartment.  Anyway, we discovered that we can split the screen into two and play on two separate systems.  Of course, the sound only works for one of the games, but… We could both sit and enjoy our games together, and J.D. was always there to help me get through the difficult parts.

Yeah.  We’re boring.  But we’ve had a busy semester, and I’ve earned it.  (He’ll officially earn it by the end of the week)

Speaking of J.D.’s game, he named his character on Ocarina of Time something… Rather derogatory and mean.  So, everyone in the game sounds like a pretentious, sarcastic jerk every time they say something to him.  Like this, “Great job getting up here, stupid.”  Or, “Hey, stupid, get up!” It’s juvenile, but so far, we’re still laughing every time it happens.

P.S. On another note, I keep having dreams of being on a cruise again… My family and I, minus J.D., as it was a few weeks before we got married, went on a cruise.  And I keep dreaming about going on another one.  And drinking lots and lots of hot chocolate.

The answer?  Me.  However, my husband is trying desperately to convince me that he needs one beyond all reason.However, on a newlywed’s budget, I am trying to convince him (and perhaps the rest of the world) that they are silly and we don’t really  need one.  I am very content with my flip phone, iPod touch (Christmas gift from my parents a few years ago–I just wanted a regular iPod; you know, with the circle thing?), paper-and-pencil planner, and looking things up in books and on the internet MANUALLY.  So, the following are five reasons you DON’T need an iPhone, plus five things you can get instead.

Reason #1: You already have a phone that fulfills its phone-like duties: making and taking phone calls.  It even has voice mail!  And as an added bonus, it can take pictures, AND send texts AND video!  Why do you need something else that does the same thing?

Reason #2: We already spend our hours whiling away our time on the internet with our laptops in wi-fi zones, why do we want to waste MORE of our time on the internet with a phone that can connect ANYWHERE?

Reason #3: Have you seen the price tag?  HAVE YOU SEEN THE PRICE TAG??

Reason #4: It will be obsolete in a while.  As I was looking up the iPhone 4s, I was seeing rumors flyinig around Google about the iPhone 5, which probably promises to be even more… Excessive.

Reason #5: Someday, the novelty WILL wear off, and when it does, you’ll only be left with the taste of regret that you didn’t wait until something better came along, like the following:

FIVE THINGS YOU CAN BUY INSTEAD:

#1: Food.  This is number one because I’m getting tired of wandering around after I come home from class, wishing we had some decent snack food or something to ease that grumbling in my stomach.  You can only eat so much tuna, so many egg salad sandwiches, so many 95-cent pot pies, so many (very) basic chicken recipes, and so much hamburger helper before you feel the need for something more, something… Substantial.

#2: Pants.  I say this because J.D. and I seem to have a shortage of them.  He keeps ripping holes in his (which I will eventually repair–maybe I’ll repair all the holes in his jeans for Christmas, if he wants to spend our money on an iPhone so bad), and I have to do my student teaching next semester, and something tells me that low-rise skinny jeans are not appropriate.  But who doesn’t want more pants?  Nobody wants to go around smelling like butt when they only have one or two pairs of jeans to wear.

#3: A house.  Someday.  That $300 for an iPhone could be saved, and eventually get anyone out of the renting cycle and into a home of their very own.

#4: Friends.  As in, throw a party.  Make some mac n’ cheese and invite everyone over for some hard-core face-to-face interaction (something that would likely not be happening if one were too busy building a relationship with a fake woman named Siri– See video below).

#5: Here, I have three options: For the price of an 8 gig, $200, you could get a fainting goat:http://www.ksl.com/index.php?nid=218&ad=18418782&cat=&lpid=&search=

For the price of the 32 gig, $300, you could get one male purebred Corgie puppy!  OHMYGOSHCUTE!!!!  http://www.ksl.com/index.php?nid=218&ad=18009816&cat=&lpid=&search=

http://www.ksl.com/index.php?nid=218&ad=18011641&cat=&lpid=&search=

And, for the price of the 64 gig, you could get you could get a used couch, loveseat, AND chair!  Because who doesn’t love lounging around on furniture?  Especially when the furniture you currently own smells like butt and consists of one used recliner and an old loveseat.

There you have it.  iPhones were obsolete before they were made: we already have screaming children, friends, planners, the internet, mp3-players, phones, cameras, and books.  We even have plenty of things to touch, thank you very much.

I’m sticking to my flip phone.

Me: Brunette, short hair, like to wear men’s cargo shorts and read science fiction, 21.

Her: Blonde, long hair, likes to wear dresses and flowers, probably reads books by the guy who wrote “Charly,” 18

Her: Dated him for… Something like… Maybe three months? That might be pushing it.

Me: Dated him for… Something like… fourteen months.

Her: Engaged April 24

Me: Engaged February 12

Her: Hand felt like a museum piece first day back at school after engagement.

Me: Had fill-in ring first day back at school after engagement, just wanted to eat m&ms all day and not tell anybody–waited for people to notice my new jewelry.  The (very) reluctant attention hog.

Her: Considering elopement on April 28th

Me: Considering elopement now, because I only have 35 days left to make all this stuff for my wedding.

Her: Engagement photos done May 3rd (that’s only one and half weeks following the engagement)

Me: Engagement photos done April 10th (I think)– Two months after the engagement. Wow, slow.

Me: Engagement photos outfit: Jeans, Shirt from the D.I., and my boots of AWESOME.

Her: Pretty dress.

Me: Engagement photos: Park, messing around, and a giant pipe.

Her: Engagement photos: Trees, hay bales, and a tractor.

(My roommate is also getting married.  She was very adamant about doing her photos up at some national park.  I think that is boring.  “Stand next to this tree and smile.  Stand next to that shrub and smile.  Walk down that path holding hands and smile.” Ours were more like, “Hey, let’s go play on the swings!  Let’s ride these dolphins!  Let’s climb this wall!  Let’s see if we can both fit down this slide!”  Yep.  Much more fun.)

Her: Grateful for girl’s nights in the midst of “crazy wedding planning” (hint, her date is in August–it’s not crazy yet, dear)

Me: Grateful to be able to eat nachos and watch Bones/America’s Next Top Model/The Office by myself to relax from “wedding plans.” (AKA doing homework and letting my mom and future mother-in-law stress while I take “brain breaks” from said homework.  Also grateful that I at least finished planning the middle school band festival.  That was a higher priority than the wedding.)

Anyway, I’m a terrible Utahn/bride.  Dating for more than a year??  Procrastinating wedding plans???  Not including some shade of pink or purple in my wedding colors??? (BTW my colors are green, white, and gold)  No hay bales??? No matching denim?????  No hair extensions (might even cut hair back to a pixie)?????  Man!  What is MY problem??  Heck, I may even add a drum circle to my reception entertainment, just to let people know how TOTALLY wack-o I am!

Also, if I hear the phrase “It’s your day, do what YOU want!” I might throw up.  My favorite, though, is, “It’s YOUR day, do what YOU want!  But you’re GOING to want this!” I’m perfectly content letting J.D.’s mother do as much as she wants.  I have no idea what’s going on for the luncheon, but she apparently has it completely under control.  Thank heaven for mothers.

But… I am really, REALLY excited.

Anyway, that’s it for this two in the morning rant.

I recently printed out a checklist of all the things I have to do before I get married.  It’s a long list, but we’ve been working on cutting out things we don’t need.  Like a wedding coordinator.  Why would we need someone to tell us what we want for our wedding (which will be in a free venue, mind you–a huge perk to LDS-dom–in a beautiful, pre-decorated castle), and what we want our decor to be in our also-free reception venues (two receptions, one south, one north Utah).  In this day of the internet, where I can find all the ideas I need (and some I don’t need) for this stuff, what would be the point to pay someone to look on the internet for me?

Another thing I’ve crossed off because we don’t need it?  Bridesmaids.  For an LDS wedding, there’s not a huge procession where all the women involved have to wear matching dresses.  In all reality, I don’t see a point in having bridesmaids except to pose for a few pictures wearing dresses that are only flattering on 50% of the girls (unless you were part of the “popular” crowd, where all of the girls you would ask to be your bridesmaids were carbon copies of each other.  This is probably what my insane roommate’s wedding will look like, however.  I believe she is also engaged.  Although, I haven’t had occasion to ask, or even talk to her.  But that’s beside the point.  In fact, I don’t even know if I’ll find a maid of honor.  I’ll probably just have my mother help me out.  I can’t imagine asking one of my few female friends to do it–I’m not necessarily close enough with any of them to ask anyway.  I can’t imagine any of them WANTING that kind of responsibility on my behalf.  It just seems very silly when I have a mother and myself who are both very capable of taking care of ourselves and this occasion…  Although, this may mean I will likely have the tamest-ever bridal shower, filled with gifts like nice hand soap from Bath & Body Works or a gift card to Maidenform or Target.  Perhaps a nice bath rug or framed picture.  Which is cool, too.  That’s how I roll.

Let’s see, what else… Ah. Reception entertainment.  Now, we haven’t necessarily nixed this concept altogether.  I’m actually throwing around the idea of hosting an drum circle for the So-tah (southern Utah) reception, inviting all of J.D.’s percussion friends and letting them have at it with their djembes. Which I probably didn’t spell right.  Other than that, there will be plenty of children running around to keep everyone entertained.  I think we’ll have a table for them, though, with coloring books and games so they’re not SO all-over-the-place.  Haven’t decided if we’ll do much dancing.  I can’t say I’m really INto the whole Utah dance thing… I still have memories of those awkward middle school “dances” (which I ended up calling “stands” because that’s really all it was–standing, perhaps swaying, and doing a lot of perspiring) and remain jaded.  Oh, and church dances.  Those were relatively similar.  I was never really into the whole standing and swaying thing.  I just ended up talking a lot and being three times my awkward self.  I don’t think I ever talked so much in my life than I did when I was swaying awkwardly in tandem with a young man who was far more adept at keeping his mouth shut than I was.

Probably why I went to prom with my 11-year-old brother…  But hey.  J.D. loves me for it.

This is the hair that symbolizes Utah–hair that looks pregnant.  Much like a large percentage of the women in Utah.  Hair that makes you wonder what they’re hiding up there (probably one of those newfangled godless contraptions called the bump-it).  [I actually just tried to watch the commercial for bump-its and almost died.  Seriously.]  Hair that may also resemble a waterfall, or perhaps some sort of brain tumor.  They may also looks like cat ears.  The varieties are endless, but they all have one thing in common–ratting and a straight iron.  Lots and lots of both.  Oh, and hairspray.  Lots of that as well.

Anyway, this really has very little to do with what I am actually feeling belligerent about, other than my roommate, who is also cousins with my other roommate, has employed this travesty as her everyday look, and it irritates me to the core.  BUT… What I am actually irritated with is that today, Sunday the 21, was her birthday.  We shall call her Heather because that’s what I call her anyway because I categorize her actual name and this name, Heather, under the same heading of “boring teeny-bopper names [who probably have poofy hair and have seriously considered buying a bump-it].”  The cousin-counterpart [let's call her Nelly, after that mean, controlling girl from little house on the prairie] cleaned the kitchen this morning for a celebration they were to have this evening, which is I think is very nice–however, the moment she saw me this morning she immediately pounced on me, trumping my every thoughts of making any sort of mess in HER kitchen.  I was to keep the kitchen clean–in perfect condition–and if I were to make any mess, I was to have it all cleaned up by 7:45.  I kindly informed her that I could make no promises as I was to be making lasagna that night because lasagna makes me happy and cleaning obsessively does not (minus the last part).  But I would try.  She then went on to explain that she had “reserved” the kitchen like, forever ago, which got me wondering where the playplace and crappy arcade was, and whether our apartment was suddenly Chuck-E-Cheese’s.  I again stated that I was still going to be making lasagna and I could make no promises because I wasn’t sure when JD would be around to help, and after a bit more dialogue, she decisively stated “It WILL be clean by seven forty-five because I said so.” because apparently I’m five and she’s a big scary nine-year-old.

Again, I rephrased what I said before, that I would try, but it might be seven-fifty or seven-fifty five by the time I finish cleaning up, at which point she thankfully seemed to have given up.  And thus was my morning.  I’ve been angry all day since.  But my lasagna was delicious.  And I probably showed up in a good few of her birthday pictures, looming in the background like a dark cloud amongst her poofy-haired high-voiced friends and male friends who watch football, and like tackling each other and shooting things.  But there were a lot of them, and almost all of them brought gifts.  Seriously, how does one amass that many friends who are willing to buy them birthday presents?  So many anomalies…

UPDATE:  I just realized I have the same shirt as one of the girls in the instructions for bump-its… I question if I can continue to wear it without shame.

Such as my car.  Last Sunday, as I was rushing out the door to go to church, I stepped in my car, put in the key, and turned the ignition.  I enjoyed the sound of the revving engine for a few seconds, until I realized that it was going to continue revving and not actually turn over.  I found this very odd, since I had just filled it up with gas the day before.  So, I tried again.  And so did it–it tried really, really hard to start, but it just… couldn’t.  It was quite pitiful.  So, now I have a dead car in my driveway and no time to do anything about it.  Luckily, I have another music major friend with her morning classes at the same time, so she gives me a ride to school.  Then I’m stuck at the school for the rest of the day until I can convince JD to take me back to my house.

Another thing that tries hard, but not really?  My fingers.  I have recently been… Ah… asked… to play a piece titled after a swear word that rhymes with “Slam,” with the percussion ensemble.  I have not taken clarinet lessons in two years and seldom practice technique anymore because I am a VOICE major and clarinet is just a fun thing on the side in band.  I believe the only reason I was asked to do this is because I just so happen to be dating one of the percussionists, and the percussion teacher seemed to have decided we just don’t spend enough time together as it is.  Anyway, the piece is by a guy named John Mackey, a guy who seems to take great pleasure in creating some of the most bizarre fingering combinations at the most obscenely fast tempos that are absolutely impossible for someone with as little technical skill as myself.  Seriously, I feel like the IQ of my fingers (negative a million) is seeping into my brain when I attempt them.

I’d come up with a third thing, but my brain isn’t really in the mood to try very hard right now.

My father set up my internet so, when I lock it, only those whose MAC addresses are on the list can access the WiFi.  I informed the guys next door to give me their MAC addresses so I can lock the WiFi from unwanted intruders.  I left a note on their door and four days later recieved a list back from them.  The only problem?  It included one MAC address for and iPod, and two IP addresses.  In what world would they think that TWO different things are both the right thing?  Normally, I wouldn’t have a problem with it, however, I told them on the note to LOOK IT UP because it is kind of confusing to find it using Windows–on a MAC, it takes approximately three steps.  I know, ’cause J.D. showed me.  I even told them EXACTLY what to google to find out how to find their MAC addresses.  So, I sent the note back, circled the correct MAC address with a note “THIS IS RIGHT” and “THIS IS WRONG” next to the IP addresses, and then told them, again, to look it up.

That was something like three weeks ago.  I still haven’t gotten a reply back.

So, this week, as I was trying to make my way through the internet, and taking occasional breaks from homework to watch some Hulu, I noticed that things were working a bit slowly.  So, I decided to lock the internet.  Then it started working much faster.

Perhaps this will give them some incentive to get me the right addresses.  Although, now they’ll have to go all the way to the school to find out how to find their MAC addresses.  Silly boys…

It began with a trip to St. George with my Guy to visit his friend who was down for the weekend and wanted to hang out.  We met up with him (after a trip to the mall to replace my Guy’s destroyed and over-youthful shoes) at another friend’s house, where we enjoyed watching A Goofy Movie, drinking soda, and throwing water bottles and stuffed animals in Santa hats at one of the other guys there.  We then made our expedition to Denny’s around 11:00.  By this time, the rest of the young men with us and I were very hungry people, and probably would have killed a cow ourselves if it meant us getting our food faster.

We were quickly seated in a booth for six (as that was how many people we had in our party, however, with no offense intended, some in our group seemed of the breed that loved food and should not often be shoved into a booth with more than one other person of their particular interests) and looked over our menus for our meal of choice.  Soon after, our waiter, Tyler, I believe his name was, arrived.  He was of a rather small stature, with blonde hair and rose studs in his ears.  He appeared to be of the breed who ought to still be working in his family’s five-buck-pizza or McDonald’s, but I suppose Denny’s is okay, too.  Everything seemed to be in order as he took our orders–he had originally come just for our drink orders, but we were all already ready to order our meals.  Four of them ordered the slam burger–including Myguy, to my… well.  I don’t agree with all that food being shoved into one’s larges facial orifice–and I ordered an Ultimate Skillet (only after being told they were out of soup after 10).  Tyler even managed to create a chuckle and gain some rapport by jokingly telling our last member, who ordered the all-you-can-eat pancakes, that he expected great things of this young man, and something else about eating at least three plates.

Tyler took our menus and walked away, and we had little idea what interesting things were about to befall our poor table.

The real fun began about five minutes after Tyler had left to take care of our drink orders.  Another waitress was passing by and offered to take our orders, to which we informed her that we had already had our orders taken.  Another five minutes passed.  No drinks.  Finally, another woman approached our table and asked us for our drink orders again.  I thought nothing of it, as when I worked at Dragon Hill, drink orders would occasionally get jumbled up with other drink orders.  We told her and a few minutes later I received my hot cocoa and everyone else received their own various drinks.  Then Tyler returned to re-take our food orders, graciously apologizing about how this was his first day, and he was originally a cook and they had pulled him out that night to wait tables and blah blah blah.  We laughed and told him it was okay–especially me, as I am familiar with how bewildering waiting tables can be.  However, I had no idea it was THIS bewildering, especially when one has been provided with pen and paper to write down our orders.  I wonder what he was doing with the pad the first time he took our orders? I imagine it to look something like this:

Either way, I think he did the same on both tickets because approximately fifteen minutes later, as we were about ready to resort to cannibalism, our table was approached by yet another waiter offering to take our food order, and apologizing profusely for the confusion.  When asked about Tyler, he appeared to be ready to embark on a rant that would likely surpass anything I could write here, but instead continued taking our order and said “I don’t want to say anything bad…” and shut his mouth on the subject with a very uncomfortable chuckle.  It appeared that everyone in the restaurant was in a state of confusion, as this same man who finally seemed capable of getting our order through to the cooks had previously been wandering from table to table with a small tray of beverages (come to think of it, they may have been ours) and a look on his face similar to this:

I lost track of him as he continued wandering around until he came to take our order.  And thus, about ten minutes later, around 12:15, we at last received our food from an angel of a woman named Dee, who did a wonderful job taking care of us and even brought us a caraffe of water and me another cup of hot chocolate.  I could have hugged her had she not been rushing to take care of her own assigned tables.  Instead, I may just name my first child after her.

In the end, we got our drinks for free because all our tickets said “no beverage” on them, and they were “giving away the farm in Tyler’s section tonight because… Well…” and then she left us our receipts before she said something truly passive aggressive.  I think I was the only one to leave a tip, specified to go to Dee.

And that is why I love Denny’s.  Or something like that.