Archive for November, 2007

Intentions?: Oh, What a Blunder

Newbert has officially proven himself to be a greater dating dunderhead than I had previously made MYSELF out to be.  He has committed a courtshipping crime of such huge proportions, not once, but TWICE now.  He has now asked out THREE girls that live IN THE SAME ROOM.  He does not realize how horribly, HORRIBLY wrong things can go for him at any moment in his pursuit of dating equilibrium.  The scales are tipping, but most definitely not in his favor.

Now, as you may recall, Newbert, at first, asked my roommate Jordan out.  I had no idea really who he was, and really didn’t care who he dated.  So, they went on one date and he starting hanging around our apartment a LOT, and eventually ended up asking ME out.  You may recall the confusion that ensued in the room, to which Newbert was completely incognizant.

Well, many things happened.  Well, not much really, but time passed, and thus we reach the point at where I realize that Newbert and I have nothing in common and he realizes that I have nothing in common with his ex-girlfriend, and therefore am not worth the social stress.  Things simmer down and I no longer feel awkward and socially retarded — In fact, I’m at the top of my game.  I now find his attachment to his girlfriend not a slap in the face, but rather an amusing fact that will hopefully, for his sake, dissappear by the time he gets home from his mission. 

Anyway, back to the actual plotline.  He comes over to my place last night, reason unknown.  Jordan is in bed, Jessica is over at B building, Kristen is out with friends, and Melissa is at work.  So, we play a little Bloody Roar 2.  Just like old times.  Except of course he sits a comfortable one and half feet away from me.  And then Jessica arrives. 

The previous night, he had texted Jordan about asking her out, but I never thought it would happen so soon.  He engages in smalltalk flirting with Jessica, and Jessica, being the tough chick she is, seems to find it as amusing as me.  He then “gracefully” (kind of like a tap-dancing emu) segways into asking her out.  Strangely enough, that same odd confusion fell upon all the females in the room, and Jessica replied in a way that was oddly reminiscent of how I had replied to his invitation about a month prior.  Except of course, she was expecting it and she actually has other friends.  But of course, she replies yes, and they plan it for the following Thursday.  While I’m in the room.  By a poll taken of all the guys in my phone book, this is possibly one of the most doltish things to do in the prescence of a girl you had previously dated.  “Dude, tell this guy to go date his mom or something… (John)”

Now, to demonstrate the Newbert’s astounding creativity, they are going out for hot chocolate.  Hm.  That sounds familiar.  Didn’t he and Jordan do that on their date?  And didn’t Newbert and I do that on OUR date?  Oh, Newbert, you slay me.

Dating roommates.  Seinfeld says it can’t be done gracefully.  The girls of Manzanita C-6 are here to prove him right.


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I wanted a Fish, But Decided to Settle

I have recently acquired a new roommate who brought with her a very rare and valuable commodity in the college-life world — A pet fish in an actual fishbowl.  I found this absolutely fascinating and I was feeling much jealousy towards this person who seemed thirty times happier than me because she had a pet fish who needs her and loves her unconditionally.  So I vowed I would also acquire a fish.  I was later advised by Jordan that acquiring a fish would be a terrible idea, in that I would have to take care of the thing, ie, clean it’s bowl, feed it, clothe it, and live every day of my life in fear that I would inadvertently kill it.  Both of us later found out that along with her fish, Mellissa also brought with her an item the likes of which we had not seen since our childhood — A Nano pet.  Well, we were both absolutely fascinated with this seemingly trite trinket, but Jordan volunteered to raise the tiny, fragile, needy, pixelated dog, and so began our renewed journey into the world of virtual pets.

Jordan tended to the dog throughout that day, but grew tired of its frequent cries for attention.  She, still enoying the idea of having a virtual pet, and I, increasingly jealous of her having a pet and I not, decided to go in search of a better, less needy virtual pet.  Thus, we came to rest on the idea of owning Tamagotchis.  Yes, the pixelated blob-like egg-encased Japanese creatures for ages 8 and up.  So, with Newbert in tow (whew, almost used his real name!), looking very ashamed for the both of us, we made an exodus to the local mall (Walmart), and went on the hunt for Tamagotchis.

I had never realized how long it had been since I had been in the toy section until I realized that I couldn’t find the Barbies anymore — They had all been replaced by those hedious things that girls nowadays strive to become; BRATZ DOLLS.  But that’s beside the point.  We scoured the toy section in search of these elusive Tamagotchis until we turned around and found an entire small wall of end-of-shelf space dedicated to these lovable virtual creatures.  Thus, we begane along discussion of how pretty the eggs and casing had become, and how the creatures can now have carreers of their own.  Tamagotchis can now even link to other Tamagotchis via the AIR.  As in, wirelessly.  Through the air.

Anyway, I decided to get a beautiful green Tamagotchi (4.5!) with a lovely peacock feather pattern, while Jordan opted for the colorful geometric-stained-glass patterned casing for hers and we made our way to the front of the store to make our purchase.  Of course, Newbert was still following, but at rather a larger distance as Jordan and I discussed how much TAMAFUN we were going to have.

We arrive home and quickly open the plastic encasings of our new babies (Newbert left as quickly as possible — He wanted nothing to do with this childishness) and brought our new pets to life.  It was truly a miraculous and magical experience.  Suddenly, there was this shape-shifting egg on the screen from which a small white blob would appear and bring joy and love into my life to fill the void which I was looking to fill.

In reading the instructions, we found out that our Tamagotchis could become friends, and have a life-long friendship.  So much so that if they got to be good enough friends, they would have an “egg”, and the next generation of Tamagotchis would emerge.  We only had one problem, though — both of our Tamagotchis were female.  But we then learned that this, in fact, was not a problem.  They just had to be “really good friends.”  So, we had loads of fun having our Tamagotchis (I named mine Chirp and she named hers Hawly) visit eachother and play give eachother gifts.  It really is a bucket of laughs.

So, the Tamagotchis went to sleep sometime around nine and we were free for the night.

Sunday arrived and me and Jordan went to Stake conference, Tamagotchis in tow.  We sat by Newbert, who was simply ashamed for us when we brought out our new pets and began to play and get overly-excited about connecting again and giving eachother gifts and such.  ‘Twas a meeting that I shall never forget, because sometime in the midle of the second speaker, I get a notification from my Tamagotchi that I have been ROBBED of all the points I made playing games and had not spent at the shop yet by a masked and dark-looking Tamagotchi.  I had over 800 points stolen from me!  Right in the middle of church!

Moral of the story — you could never get robbed and recieve gifts and play tug of war in church with a real fish.

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Kind of Like a Dying Moose

With a wood reed, plastic clarinet, leather ligature, metal keys, and my face, many things can go wrong when all of these strange a various elements are put together next to a piano on a hot stage.  It began when I walked onto the stage, frantically trying to remember how and when to bow.  After an awkward salutory bow, my accompanist hit a B flat, which I tried to eik out of my clarinet to tune.  You see, since my clarinet IS plastic, it is inherently very sharp, and therefore nearly impossible to tune without attaching extra parts to make the thing longer and therefore not as sharp (for those of you who don’t know, if the instrument is sharp, make it longer, if it’s flat, make it shorter).  I did a little reed adjusting, “tuned” again, got close (I’m not very good at hearing whether I’m sharp or flat, especially when I’m under such pressure as having fifty people staring at you.  It’s a good thing I’m not a hideous beast).  So, I turn and look at my music and begin.

It began at a pleasant mezzo-piano (I don’t believe I got any louder than that the entire song), with a pleasant little dynamic-less theme.  Up until the trill and grace notes.  Which really sounded like I was caught completely by surpise. The rest of the theme wasn’t so bad, but the first variation was where all the fun began.  So much for all I’d practiced everything.  It all went out the window, and my Clarence ended up squeaking in utter despair a few times during this first variation.  A few notes even blatantly refused to come out because they were so ashamed of having to be on that stage with me at the helm.

The second variation was a little more somber and in a relatively minor key.  I doubt I came anywhere near the Fortissimos or Fortes written in the music, but remained a comfortable mezzo-piano to piannissimo (Forte = loud; piano = quiet).  I breathed in all the places my clarinet teacher told me not to, and the “turnabout” sextuplets ended up sounding more like I couldn’t find my note in a simple triplet or eighth note scheme.  But hey, I didn’t squeak when I jumped from the C to the high E flat!  That probably means nothing to you, but that was rather an accomplishment.  Anyway, the “sad” part of the song was really rather sad, because I couldn’t eik any real “sad” emotions out of Clarence because the only emotion he seemed to be feeling was confusion at my pitiful dynamics.

Oh, goodness, and then the final variation.  This variation was supposed to sound fun and carefree — kind of like frollicking through a circus full of happy animals in the fall.  In reality, it came out more like trudging through a low-budget emo circus in the middle of a swamp during the muggiest day of summer in Nebraska.  No amount of practicing could have saved me from that.  I thanked God when I reached the final high C (it was definitely out of tune, but I didn’t care — if I was a Sim, my charisma and artistic skill levels had already declined by as many points as possible.  No promotion for me!  Hootnburwatti!)  And then, finally, a repetition of the same, sad theme from the beginning of the song.  Reduced to a depressed and dejected mess, Clarence squeaked out the last few notes, accepting of his new renown as a pitiful excuse for an instrument of a poor musician.  In one last strive for defiance, he refused to hold out the last note, which was supposed to be a bit of a grand affair for more than a moment before finally commiting suicide whilst I gave a sigh of relief that it was finally over.

I should have been a percussionist.

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