blue plate diner//guy fieri.

i am a self-proclaimed connoisseur of all things celebrity. i COULD NOT tell you what is going on in physical science class at present but i could tell you all about the state of justin and selena’s love life and how jessica simpson can’t wear heels anymore (pregnant jessica is the best jessica!) and how bobby brown got yet another DUI (give him a break, he misses his whitney girl!).

that said, i often times find myself pretending that i am friends with celebrities. my main circle includes gwyneth paltrow, emma stone (BE MY BEST FRIEND?!), and tina fey. we call ourselves the BESTROGEN friends! we talk about girly stuff and giggle-snort and talk about ryan gossling ad naseam and even have a pair of traveling pants! it’s fun and stuff…

…where was i going with this again?

oh yes! guy fieri! and blue plate diner!

guy fieri from diners, drive-ins, and dives is another celebrity friend i wish i had. i adore him and his spiky bleached hair and obscenely tacky button-up shirts. he is just so sweet! that said, i felt like i could trust his opinion on dinner tonight and tried out the blue plate diner in salt lake. it was yum! i think it was yum mostly because guy fieri said it was yum, you know? but also it was yum because the turkey on my sandwich tasted SO FRESH and they had an old jukebox machine and decorated with postcards and they serve breakfast all day long (my favorite) and there was a lady sitting kiddie-corner to us that had the coolest chest tattoo ever that made me wonder things like…well, never mind.

…and to my dismay, no blue plates!

…also it rained (a little) today. WHY PROVO?

Dead-end loves

Unfortunately, all flights were booked to San Diego so I couldn’t visit Kylie. I was super bummed out. Thankfully my adventurous little mother helped me make the best of the weekend.

I love her. That lady is up for anything. At 1:00 a.m. on Thursday night I sent her a text: hello mother, i know you aren’t awake but tomorrow can we do something funnn?

At 9, she called me and told me to get ready. We were going for a girl’s day in Spokane!

It was so fun. We went to the M.A.C. counter and bought some new makeup, ate seafood curry, mahi wraps, and carrot cake at my new favorite restaurant, Mizuna, and relieved our anxieties over the pending question (BYU or no BYU?!) with some retail therapy.

Delicious day.

On Friday, I willingly went to the Justin Bieber movie Never Say Never with my mother and sisters.

Folks, it was magic.  I had to keep suppressing my girlish squeals by shoveling popcorn into my face.

I fell in love.

After that, we went to La Casa (where my sister ordered a burger, typical) and I fell in love, again. This time it was with the waiter (he had an accent, dimples, and a faux-hawk…that is all I’ve ever wanted in a man!, plus some beard-age).

Of course I didn’t say anything to him. Besides a very mispronounced ‘torta.’

But he knew what I really meant by ‘torta.’ He knew I meant ‘Hey baby, I know I’m a very obvious 18 years of age and am still in a haze from seeing the Justin Bieber movie, but I am in love with you, I think.’

(Truth: he had no idea what I meant by ‘torta.’ He just told me it was some form of a sandwich and stared at my Justin Bieber drawing on my napkin)

When I left the restaurant, I felt so defeated. I really missed my opportunity at love.  I texted my friend Nikki: i fell in love with a waiter tonight. and justin bieber. i so badly want his(the waiter’s) number and am craving an excuse to go back.

(never say never!, Thank you Justin)

(Truth: I didn’t actually want his number)

Nikki arrived at my door 20 minutes later declaring her and her friends were going to La Casa. Of course I joined them.

…he was engaged.

And not to me.

 

And Justin Bieber is 16(17? 15?) and famous.

Dead-end loves suck.

Jesse Jackson on a Monday

Post-devouring three oatmeal chocolate chip cookies(with grated Hershey Kisses sprinkled on top), a glass of milk, a bowl of Life cereal, and a slice of cheese,  I decided it was time to hit the gym.

Fortunately and unfortunately, I misplaced my key to the gym. Which leaves me here.

Yesterday I waited in line in the snow for a whole 45 minutes to hear Jesse Jackson speak at the U of I.

(Blurred picture below)

Let me reitterate: 45 minutes. In the snow. In line. Alone.

Why you ask?

Well, partially because Jesse Jackson is a well-known civil rights activist who was standing next to(near?) MLK Jr. when he was shot…I think. Partially because, once upon a time, he ran for president. Partially because he is a Baptist minister and I may or may not have been seriously hoping we would all clap and swing and sway and sing. But primarily because he has his own South Park. And all people who have their own South Park are worth standing in line for(for 45 minutes…in the snow…alone).

As I was waiting in line(for 45 minutes…in the snow…alone), three large, important-looking men were talking. Since they looked important(two of them had beards, the other was wearing a jacket with fur), I strained my ear through my too-tight parka to hear.

They were talking about MySpace.

“It’s being sold, you know?” bearded man #1 said to the others.

“The government should just integrate FaceBook and MySpace together. Making MyBook…or FaceSpace!” furry coat man retorted (I said they looked wise, not witty).

“…is it just me, or is that girl in the parka staring at us?” bearded man #2 whispered.

…and that is when I stopped listening and, apparently, staring and was sent back into a fit of nostalgia.

Do you remember when you would spend hours upon hours on your profile? Finding the perfect background(I remember I liked a boy in the 7th grade and his MySpace background was a scantily clad girl in a scantily clad bikini…hormones…!), adding songs, rearranging top friends(I was in a few people’s ‘Top 4’, n.b.d.)?!

I miss those days.

But actually, not really.

Curse you Tom!

Oh, and Jesse Jackson was good. I forget almost everything he said because I was focused on keeping a safe distant between me and the frat boys who unwillingly sat right behind me(if I leaned too far back, frat boy #4 would be straddling me; if I leaned too far forward, crack might kill frat boys #1, 2, 3, and 4) and simultaneously looking over the quirky Asian girl’s shoulder and reading her surprisingly juicy texts about ‘laundry day’ and ‘Super Walmart’ (code? I submit yes).

And yes, I did refrain from asking him if he enjoyed his South Park.

In other news, San Diego in T-Minus 2 weeks and a hair cut tomorrow.

Happy Tuesday!

(New on-the-toilet picture! Even happier Tuesday!)