Billboards

So as you know, I went to LA last week on a choir trip. I guess I could tell you all about it, but that seems rather time consuming. Instead, I'll tell you about the billboards there!

Case Study Numba 1:
We sang at an LDS church there on Sunday, and one of the people giving a talk was speaking about how she was from Rexburg, and how much easier it was to feel the spirit there than in LA. She kept talking about all the distracting billboards in California, and how awful they were! We were kind of laughing, and thinking they couldn't be that awful. Then on the bus right after this meeting, we pass this billboard, pictured above. Lovely, isn't it?

Case Study Numba 2:
Again, on the bus. We were driving to another performance at another church, and we see this billboard behind a huge tree. What's the point of having it where no one can see it? Then we realized it was a billboard for a cemetery, and we all wondered, what kind of cemetery puts of billboards for itself? We came to the conclusion it was behind a tree so that people driving by would try and read it, but because it was behind a tree it would be especially hard, so the car would swerve and crash and everyone in it would die, giving more business to the cemetery.

Case Study Numba 3:
Remember the cemetery that put up billboards for itself? Yeah, it put up two other ones, and all three of them were within five minutes of each other. It also had a billboard for some random company right in the middle of it, among the graves. Our opinion of this cemetery was getting lower and lower, especially when we saw what one of the billboards had to say. It had a picture of a happy old couple, and all it said was, "[name of the cemetery] makes it possible for everyone." What is that even supposed to mean?! "Don't worry, even if the rest of your life fails, at least you can die!" That was the conclusion we came to.

Basically, California is a land of evil-ness and fornication and weird cemeteries, and everyone should live in Rexburg instead. But still, I had a great time there. It was hecka fun, yo!

:D

A week from now, while you folk are sitting at home, maybe writing blog posts of your own, guess what I'll be doing? Partying in CALIFORNIA!!! With my awesome friends!!! On the a'capella trip!!!

Did I mention I'm excited? That's 'cause I'm gonna be in California! Touring Hollywood! And going to the beach! And going to Disneyland! And going on our own dinner cruise! And going to a musical! And on the way there/back, I'll be on a bus partying with some of the coolest people in the world! Exclamation point!

This Blog is all Completely Serious

Don't you just love it when people have no clue you're being sarcastic? In my math class today, some people were talking about the song Friday, by Rebecca Black, so I piped up and said, "Rebecca Black is my idol. I want to be just like her." So ridiculous no one would ever believe it, right? Wrong. Half the people in the room turn around and stare at me, shocked. "Um, not really. JK." Do they think I'm an idiot now? Probably. But there's this crazy new thing, called not-saying-exactly-what-you-mean-at-all-times-and-sometimes-even-joking. Gasp! Revolutionary!

Personally, I think it sounds dangerous. If people start joking around and lightening up, what will this world come to? People might actually start laughing, and we don't want that, now do we? It's much better for nobody to have any sense of humor at all. That'll solve all the world's problems ever. I'm sure of it. Speaking of things I'm sure of...

I'm sure that sugar is ruining society, and should be banned. Congress might as well just make it into a law. It would be really popular. I'm sure that all high school students get at least 10 hours of sleep a night. Homework doesn't take them that long, and if they say it does, they're liars. I'm sure I'm going to be miserable on the a'capella trip (that starts next Friday!). Too much happiness and laughter and fun. Blech. To the random kid in my math class: I'm sure that swearing excessively when your shot into the trash can misses will solve all your problems and magically make you a better shot. It'll probably cure cancer, so you better keep doing it.

Bottom line: This sarcasm thing is the worst. Ever. Nobody should be allowed to do it. Personally, I know I'll never use it. It's just a waste of language. As long as Congress is banning sugar, they should also ban sarcasm. It'll make the world a better place.

Barefoot Adventures

On Friday, being the fun, outgoing, friendly soul that I am, I hung out with some friends after school. We had a mahvelous time. By which I mean, I curled up on her couch and kinda sorta fell asleep. But then we decided, "Let's actually go have a mahvelous time! Let's do something exciting! Like go to a park!" So to a park we went.

We had had to walk quite a ways to get to my friend's house from Trax, and after this long and arduous journey, I decided to give up on shoes. I took them off as soon as we got to her house, and didn't put them back on for the rest of the day. This was great fun at the park, because it was all grassy and sandy and such. And who needs shoes when you're swinging as high as you can on a swing? No one.

Then, one of us had the cheery idea to go walk around in the cemetery conveniently located right by the park. There was even a gap in the fence that separated the two, so it was terribly easy to get into. This was when not having shoes showed itself to be a problem. You see, the cemetery has lots of pine trees. Which means lots of pine needles on the ground. Which means death to all feet! While my other friends were having a lovely time looking at graves, I was busy carefully planning where each foot would go, and saying, "Ow. Ow. Pine needles. Ow," and my voice kept suddenly shooting up two octaves. One time, I stepped on one, and when I sat down and looked two minutes later, it was still stuck in my foot. I hate pine needles. I really, really hate them.

At the cemetery, we saw a lot of prophet's graves. My favorite was John Taylor's, with a list of all his wives. Turns out two of the women he married were twins. The depressing ones were the baby graves, with birth and death dates on the same day. I also decided that I want violets to grow on my grave when I'm dead, because some of them had ten million violets growing on them, and it was wonderful.

I somehow survived my ordeal in the cemetery, and got back home, where I realized I had tree sap not only all over my foot, but also all over my hand. Then I was painting my nails, and had a minor spaz attack, and dropped the little brush thing. As I was frantically trying to mop it all up while it was wet, it got all over my hand. Add that to the tree sap, and I looked like I had some strange skin disease. It was great.