Social Feces

Please forgive me for what I am about to write. I normally look upon my fellow man in a very kind-hearted manner, but as I look about BYU campus today, I cannot help but mock my surroundings. It is as if Sue Sylvester gained access to my mind and has been redirecting all my would-be kind thoughts--turning them into very unbecoming, critical contemplations.

It all started in my British Literature class. We were discussing Jane Austen's "Persuasion" (a book I love deeply) when two girls got a little carried away. One professed, "If only we had men like Captain Wentworth! Men, or boys, today just don't treat girls as they aught. (She was trying her very best to speak in Janite language). They TEXT instead of writing letters! (Oh, the horror). It's so rare to find men who will ask you out to your face, take you on a date, drop you off and then--which I consider necessary--call you to make sure you made it safely to your room."

My thoughts at this point? Good luck getting married, psycho. If someone called me just minutes after seeing me to my door, to make sure I made it to my room (not a difficult or dangerous journey) I would be like, "Sure did. And I'd appreciate it if you never asked me out again, ya weirdo."

In response another girl yelled (I am not exaggerating, she was YELLING), "Oh honor! Vigilance and respect! WHERE HAVE YOU GONE?" Her hands were flying in the air, in an attempt to further the drama (which needed no other embellishments, I assure you).

It was a disgustingly shameful spectacle. It might take me awhile to forgive the self-proclaimed Jane Vigilantes for tainting my love of Persuasion.

Awhile later I went to the Wilkinson's center for lunch. Standing in line I heard quite the commotion--yelling, stomping, hoots. Eager to see what sparked the frenzy I looked about. My eyes met this disgraceful sight: an x-box. The crowd was yelping like mad men as they watched an electronically-enhanced soccer game. For this, I hate our generation. I wanted to go unplug it and be like, "Welcome to the real world, suckas."

But I let them be.

This was not the end of my overly-satirical observations, but I'm starting to feel guilty. I should end this post (delete it, possibly). I hope you guys are having better luck looking kindly on humanity.

Cortizone Cream

I need more sleep.

For example:

Last night my neck was really bothering me. In an attempt to ease my discomfort, I slathered the pained area in Icy Hot. Except for it was really Cortizone cream I was lavishly massaging into my skin (not sure how I misread the label- it clearly reads, "Cortizone Cream"). Once I located the Icy Hot I decided my forehead/temple area was hurting too (thank you headache) so I rubbed Icy Hot on that area as well. Which just made my eyes water. (I know it was an idiotic plan, but tired Regan has the IQ of a five year old).

Then this morning I went to sign a homework assignment. My signature read, "Regain Gulls."

Geeze Louise.

Just thought I'd share...can't wait until I have videos like this of my own kids.

(but this doesn't mean I'm baby hungry...I meant, "I can't wait.." in more of an, "I'm going to wait about four years but am excited for the future" kinda way. Just to clarify)

boob. buh ooo buh.

Hope this doesn't offend. (always a great way to start a post..)

I received this phone call while at work this morning:

Me: Color me Mine, This is Regan.

Stranger: Hi. I'm just wondering if you have any boob cups? (she pronounced boob: buh-ooo-buh. I think she wanted to make sure I understood the question).

Me: Uh.. (trying to process what she said. a few reruns later, I knew there was no mistaking the question). No. We don't, but you could probably turn one of our cups into a boob mug if you wanted. (It was at this point my co-worker peeked around the corner, a strange expression on her face).

Stranger: But you don't have any that're actually shaped like a boob? I really want the shape.

Me: Yeah, no. We don't have any, sorry.

Stranger: Alright, thanks anyway.

And I know what you guys are probably thinking: "Don't be so gullible Regan. It was a total prank."

But I'm telling you, as an experienced prank-caller, this was no joke. It sounded like an older woman, her voice did not crack once, and I heard not the slightest giggle in the background. For humanity's sake, I wish it was a prank call. But it wasn't.

I guess boob cups are just in demand these days. Which leaves me wondering, what would a boob cup look like exactly? Is the handle a bra strap? Where do you drink from? Would little boobs be tea cups and big boobs make beer mugs?

Too far. Sorry. The call just left me curious, that's all.

Hair

It's never an especially enjoyable feeling pulling a long strand of hair from your mouth. I might even say it's borderline repulsive. Especially when it's a long blonde hair and neither you or your spouse are blonde.

Who's hair was just in my mouth?? And why?

Let it be known, I will not permit sneaky hair-leaving activity in my home. Cease and desist. If I gag on another long, blonde hair I am going to have it tested, find the culprit and then leave strands of MY hair all over their humble abode.

You have been warned blondie.