Where'd you get the pink fifties?

Today was one of those Things Are Going To Be More Complicated Than Necessary days. Fuh realz, yo.

It started when I woke up and began putting in more job applications. All kinds of ridiculous "strongly agree, agree, disagree, strongly disagree" questions were asked. Examples are as follows:
"I would rather be lost in the ghetto than unsettled Wyoming."
"If Jim is older than Ron, Ron is thinner than Dave, and Dave is shorter than Everett, then Paco must be the father of Samson."
"I often misspell 'opportunity.'"

Then, I helped my father move the partitions in our horse trailer. The stakes that hold the hinges together wouldn't come out. One stake smashed my thumb and it bled profusely. Finally, the hammer that dad carefully placed on a small ledge fell off of the ledge and landed safely on my foot.

This evening, I had to take my car in for inspection and pick up Mom's. I drive my car over. I get there and her car is nowhere in sight. I ask the mechanic if it's done. He said no and that they left a message at the house. Of course, I left my cell at home. I ask to borrow his phone so I can call Dad. He pulls out his cell and dials the number and hands me the phone. No one picks up. I tell him they must be outside. I hit END. He reaches for the phone. Before I can dial Dad's cell, I see that the background of his phone is a nude chick. He apologizes thoroughly (Because, obviously, I've never seen a naked woman... Please...). I immediately regret using this nice man's phone. Dad never answers his cell. I take my car back home. Dad's not home. Mom calls him and tells him the predicament (minus the cell phone debacle [I think that's the first time I ever found it appropriate to use 'debacle' in anything I've ever said]). Dad says he'll meet me back at the garage. I drive back to the garage. Dad's not there. I drop my key off and wait for Dad. Dad picks me up. The End.

I hope you enjoyed that. I know I did.


Memory numero seis. Sorry it's muy poco.

April 25, 2009 George and I went to an '80s dance. It was the second day that George and I had been dating and the first time that I had met a majority of the Institute folk. He had been showing me off most of the night and at this point, he was talking to some of his friends and I was talking to his sister, Emy and Brittni. I saw that he was pointing me out to Pitzer. A minute or so later, Pitzer walks up to me and stands right up against me and asks, "Are you Marissa?" probably trying to throw me off by being so close. I went with my first instinct and quickly said yes and threw myself in for a hug. I won the Awkward Off.





Here's another memory, though it's not George-related.

I was in marching band. Well, color guard, really, but I consider it all to be the same group... Anywho, one afternoon, the one director was working with the woodwinds or something and everyone else was just kind of standing in place, hanging out, waiting to get back to business. Well, this two minute wait turned into a 15 minute wait and then turned into an eternity. I was talking to my friends and then we heard the entire drumline yell for Cory (their instructor). I almost died of laughter. Cory couldn't see them. All he saw was their drums on the ground. He was freaking out, yelling for them, thinking they were in the woods behind him or something. It was too perfect. What they did: they had all set their drums down. They noticed that the sunset was just perfect that it was setting a long shadow behind the drums. They lined up the drums just so and laid down behind them, in the shadow. It was one of the funniest things I think I have ever witnessed.


And just because I'm in an extra reminisce-y mood...
A memory that involves me, Stacey Loski, Ben Thompson, and some Brent kid.

Stacey: Brent, have you met Marissa?
Brent: No.
Marissa: Hi. I'm Marissa.
Brent: Hi. I'm Brent.
Ben: You guys are idiots!!! That was the worst introduction ever!! The names were blatently mentioned, but yet you have to go and introduce yourselves!! "BRENT, have you met MARISSA?" What is wrong with you?! You're so dumb!!
Brent: ... Dude, it's too late now. We've already met...
Marissa: Yeh, seriously... Maybe you should just calm down...

But a rose won't blossom from the ground of desert sand

So, it's been a few days.

Update:
I'm home from Florida for good. Basically for good. I won't be going for winter anymore. I'm going to be having this wonderfully wonderful guy in PA, so why would I want to be there? Maybe I'll go on vacation there some time.

I've become a Heroes addict. I don't even know how. I saw that four seasons were on the internet so I thought, "Why the heck not?" It's not even really my kind of show. There's a lot of blood. I am not a fan of a lot of blood. I can do a few drops here and there. But not a couple times a show. Or when Sylar cuts open someone's head. Or when Claire has to push her ribs back into their rightful place, through the skin. Not my cup of tea. But yet I'm glued to the show. I can't even look away for that.

I've been having dreadful dreams about George's homecoming. I guess "dreadful" isn't the appropriate word. We're going to stick with it anyway.
A couple nights ago, I had a dream that I was at a wrestling match or something. Maybe it was bowling. I dunno... Some sport that I suck at (that doesn't even begin to narrow anything down). Anyways, surprisingly, George came home that day and he came to the game/match/meet to see me. Crazily, I wasn't excited to see him. Not to say that I wasn't happy. I just wasn't over-the-moon with glee. I walked up to him, hugged him, and went on with the game. Like I hadn't just seen the love of my life for the first time in two years. And you should have heard dreaming me yelling at dreamee me over my dreamscape intercom. "What is wrong with you?! Don't you see that gorgeous face?? You don't even like softball/ synchronized swimming/ cricket!"
Then, last night I had a very similar dream. I was at work or something. I'm actually not sure what I was doing. I think I was doing landscaping at a house near my home. Moving on... I got a voice message that said "I can't wait to see the most beautiful girl in the world" (and yes, I do think highly of myself when I dream). It was George Raymond and I was totally excited because that must of meant that he was home. So I waited. And waited. And waited. And he never showed up. So, I think I had Ivan or someone contact him, but they couldn't get a hold of him. So I ended up going on an adventure with Stephie from Rutters. We found out he was living at the Tropical Treat with this kid we met the summer before our senior year. And he had gone total hick on me. Dip/chew and all. And then I woke up.
So yeh. None of the dreams I have about him coming home are very positive or welcoming. Let me just say that my reaction will be the exact opposite.
That is all.
And I didn't include a memory because I quite clearly remember these dreams.
Yes.

Shut your eyes. Feel the chemicals collide.

Oops... haven't reminisced bloggally in a while... Need to get on that.

Soooo... memory number four... what should I choose...

This is a small one. I hafta do it in script form because that's the easiest to imagine it happening...

Scene: Amber, Heather, and I are in their kitchen eating something, probably nachos. Dustin calls.
Amber: Hey Babe! What? What? Okay? Uhm, Marissa? Dustin has a message for you... He says... Ha ha, Babe, we already knew that. Is he there with you? Ok, sorry, I'll tell her. Dustin says that George says that he likes you. (pause) Straight up.
Me: Straight UP?
Heather: STRAIGHT up?
Me: Like totally straight? No curves at all?
Heather: Like the straight and narrow?
Me: Like the Iron Rod?
Amber: Did you hear them Babe? (pause) He says shut up.
End Scene.

That was a fun one. George wasn't directly involved in that one, but it's still a good one. :)


Since I'm such a terrible blogger, I'll throw in an extra memory to make up for all that time that I didn't. Plus, I'll thank me later.

Memory #5

Our junior year (way way way before we even thought of dating) , George, Dustin, Hailey, and I all had seminary at Dustin's house and it was taught by his mother, Melinda. Okay, now I need you to imagine a clock. That's going to be the kitchen table where we sat. George sat at 12, Hailey at 3, me at 6, Dustin at 9, and Melinda was somewhere above 1 (if that makes sense).
Well, after a month or two, Melinda got it in her head that George and I were meant for each other. I don't know why she would think a thing like that. Any time that George and I ever talked, they were venomous, sarcastic comments. One time he even made me cry. If that doesn't scream chemistry, I don't know what does.
So, Melinda sat George next to me one morning. So imagine the clock again. Now he's at 7 and I'm at 5. Or somethin' like that.
One day, I must have said something especially snarky and he subtly reached down and pinched my leg. So I kicked him. Then he kicked me back. So, of course, being a trouble maker, I yelled OUCH! Melinda looked straight at George and asked him what he did. He said he didn't do anything. Then she asked me what he did. I told her he kicked me. She scolded him, "George Raymond..." And he replied, "She kicked me first!" I gave Melinda my most convincing I would never... look. Totally bought it.
And that's how love starts, little ones. Take notes.

And yes, I realize that last one totally sounded like we were in first grade. But look at me. Do I look like I'm not 6?

"I think that's a guy in an airplane suit"

Memory numero tres

One night after doing who-knows-what who-knows-where, George, Katelyn Elizabeth, and I were all driving home. I was taking Katelyn home first because she lived the farthest away from me. We were taking the dark, windy (windy as in curvy, not as in blustery) backroads (something I'm very accustomed to doing as everyone I know lives in the middle of nowhere and because that's just what you have to do if you want to get anywhere in our boondockish area). George and I got into one of our nonserious fights again. What it was about, I have no idea. Anyways, it escalated to the point where I told him to get out of the car at the next stop sign. He asked why he couldn't just get out while I was driving. I reminded him that I wanted him to get out, not get hurt. Well, the stop sign came, and he actually got out. It was some time in April and it wasn't all that warm out. He started walking. Well, of course, now I felt bad and I rolled down the window and told him to get back in the car. He argued that no, I wanted him out of the car and he didn't want to disobey my wishes in my current state of confusion. Then Katelyn started yelling out her window. If you know Katelyn, then you can probably guess that her yelling was not helpful in the least and was more humoring to George to keep walking. After about a half mile of George walking and me slowly driving behind him, I tried to be more convincing/annoying to get him in the car. Then, he decided that he was actually walking on the wrong side of the road and switched over to the opposite lane. Finally, I got out of my car and begged him to get back in the car. He asked me what was in it for him. I told him that if he did, I might love him forever. After some time, he obliged. He got in the car and I put the child lock on the door so he could not get out on his own. He asked why I so strongly insisted that he get back in the car. I told him that I wanted him in the car because he has no sense of humor and cannot take a joke and we needed to get Katelyn home before her mother killed me. And then I added the fact that I did not want him to get raped and/or murdered.

The end.



So, I didn't want to finish my post. I just wanted to say that I was a pretty emo kid back in the day. Like, seriously. If I was an adult and some kid would have handed me the kinds of poetry I used to write, I would have been genuinely concerned for that child's life. Like, 79% of the poems were about heartbreak and crying and just horrible scenes. Looking back, I did have a lot of drama and love problems in high school, but my poetry just makes me look suicidal. Check it (if you want).
http://spacecdt07.deviantart.com


Ok. That is all.
Yes.

I don't want just red lights. I want more of these nights.

Note: Do not read the following if love makes you gag.

Memory numero dos.

(Again, this is multiple memories strung together, but they're all collusive.)

George and I were saying our "goodnights" one night. We were quiet and out of nowhere he said, "I love you." I told him I loved him too. He was so shocked. It was the first time we had said it. He looked at me and said, "You know, that's not the first time I said that to you..." And, yeh, I did. One night we were talking on the phone. We were about to say goodnight when he said, "Just a sec" and put me on hold. Then he came back and said "Well, I hafta go. Bye. 'Night, love you" and hung up right away. I just sat there completely stunned because we had only been dating for a little over a week. I called Katelyn and was like "What's it mean? Isn't it too soon? Did he really mean it or did he just let it slip? If he did mean it, why did he hang up right away?" etc, etc. So, talking about it later after our initial ILYs, apparently he put me on hold because his mom wanted to talk to him before she went to bed, then when she went to bed he said "'Kay, 'Night, love you." Then, his sister was going to bed and he said the same thing to her, so he said it out of repetition. After he said it, he realized what he had said and didn't know what to do, so he just hung up as fast as possible. So, yeh.
And he thinks he's all special because he (accidentally) said ILY first. Well, he's not. In the first couple of days of us dating, I was leaving his house one night and as I was walking to my car, he yelled out the door "Goodnight!" and I said "G'night, lo-" and mumbled the rest. Again, it was one of those habitual things because when my parents go to bed, I always say "'Night, love you."

A flower pokin' through the sidewalk crack

So, until George comes home, every couple days I want to post a favorite memory I have with or of or concerning him. We'll see how long this lasts.
Memory number one: We were at a bi-stake church dance when we were still in high school. We weren't dating, but we might as well have been, so we drove up to Carlisle together. My parents were asked to be chaperones, so we all went together. The dance was kind of lame. We only knew a couple people. Amber and Heather (sisters), their parents (also chaperones), Dustin, and Stacey. We sat out most of it (except for the slow songs) because they played ridiculously bad music. Dustin and Amber (those two were dating), George and I would all sit around and talk until a slow song came one and then we would claim our respective partner. They played "My Heart Will Go On" and the groan through out the gym was just barely audible. George and I started dancing and a couple bars into the song, I hear him humming along and just choose to ignore it. Then he starts singing quietly and I can't help but laugh. Then he started belting "NEAR! FAR! WHEREV-". I threw my hand over his mouth and just stood there. People were staring. I told him I would remove my hand if he would prettyplease stop singing. So he did. For half a second. Finally he agreed to cease for good after I forced him to stop again. I only had one question for him: How did he possibly know all the lyrics to the song? He took the blame route and said that his mother would play the Titanic soundtrack over and over again. Yeh. Sure.
One of the songs, you were supposed to switch partners whenever they rang a bell or something. George and I decided we didn't want to do that. This chaperone couple chided us and told us we HAD TO switch. So, the next time the bell rang, I let go of him, turned around and started to walk away. He did the same thing, and then I turned back around and grabbed him and started dancing again. We continued that the rest of the song. The couple still wasn't happy and said that we never switched partners. I told them that we tried, but no one else was available. He looked at the guy and said, "Would you let someone like that go?" :)
So, after the dance was over we were saying our goodbyes to our previously mentioned friends. We were walking over to where my parents were waiting in the car when I remembered I had to tell Amber or Heather something. So, I turned around and went back. George says, "Hey. Where are you going? Get in the car. We're going home." I said, "Oh, hold your horses, I'll be right back." So he says again, "Get in the car. Now." I ignored him. I walked over and started talking to Amber again and George continued with the "Let's go"s and the "Get in the car"s slowly raising his voice. So finally I turned around and yelled, "You know what? I'm going home with Amber and Heather and Dustin" and got in their van with them and locked the doors. Then he really started yelling. Amber told me I had to get out because it was crowded and that I really couldn't go with them. So then I got out and started yelling about how I would talk to whoever I wanted whenever I wanted and he started arguing about how he had to get home because he had church meetings early in the morning. So, finally I started to storm over to the car and he pushed me gently and I stopped and started yelling at him for that and we started arguing and yelling about that. Then this girl passing by in her group of friends turns to one of them and audibly whispers "Oh my gosh! Are they fighting?" Well, we both heard it and George looks over and not yelling but with a raised voice says "Yes, we're fighting. How 'bout you mind your own darn business." The group just stopped and watched us. I yelled at him for being so rude to that girl and that she deserved an apology and said that I was rude to be disturbing everyone with my yelling. We continued arguing loudly as we finally got in the car and my dad drove us out of the parking lot. The minute we were on the road, we busted up laughing. We laughed about half the way home. My mom had started laughing when we first started arguing and was still laughing that entire time. I kind of felt bad for the girl George told off. I'm certain she was genuinely worried. She probably thought he was going to beat me or something.
Seriously. I don't think he and I have ever shared that much consecutive laughter before or since that night.

And yes, I realize that that is technically several memories linked together, but it was only one night. So... there.