hats off to you, 2011.

2011: ready, go!

in january, i witnessed the most insane flood that moscow has ever experienced (at least i’m ALMOST sure), discovered my love for high buns and bright lipstick, made lots of resolutions that i’m nearly positive i broke within a week, and got a new phone that unleashed the narcissist hidden inside of me.in february, i received my acceptance letter to byu and was too tired to muster up any excitement, watched jesse jackson give a speech but really listened to the juicy gossip being told in front of me, went to sky-high for the first time ever, and sat on the student side for the last time ever watching high school basketball.

in march, i road-tripped to utah with my family and jason and paraded all around provotown, welcomed my cousin dan home from his mission, won a bingo game with mckenzie, visited my kylie-friend in san diego (and was happily stuck there for five more days due to backed up planes) and went into a food-coma every single day, and played in my last club soccer game…ever!in april, i made the adult-decision to attend summer term at byu, listened to general conference and learned about the simple expressions of love, wore heels to school for the first time ever, went to the renaissance fair with my family, and watched a lot of high school baseball.

in may, i went to my last high school prom with my friend logan and left the night with a crown, sash, and realization that that high school was basically over, skipped school A LOT and opted for bike rides and picnics instead, put the finishing touches on the senior skip day, seriously soaked in the beautiful weather and really loved on moscow, fell off my bike and busted open my head, and did not get raptured.in june, i graduated from high school and nervously gave the graduation speech, had the most fun graduation party at my house and attended an all-night one put on by the high school (…where i was hypnotized!), said goodbyes to my family and friends and moved to utah…only to see them two weeks later in portland at my grandpa’s funeral, and spent a weekend at a cabin in utah.in july, i spent fourth of july on the lawn of a fancy country club in salt lake, rode a horse, went on a seriously awkward hiking date where i was pressured to where a cowboy hat?, had the most fun five days ever in the hometown of katie and avery in southern california, and nearly got kicked out of the hospital’s cafe for stealing refills of vanilla and cherry diet coke.in august, i saw edward sharpe and the magnetic zeros at a twilight concert series, explored san fransisco with my family, watched my brother get married and my grandma dance crazily at the reception, surprised jason at his family reunion in red fish, idaho, took my first college final, and visited home for a few weeks where i squeezed in some beloved lake time, went to a foam dance party, and prepared to go back to byu where i was rooming with avery(!!!!) and living right across the hall from rachael and lily(!!!!).in septemeber, i began a friend-crush on landon, josh, and ally while spelunking in a provo cave, camped in a yurt, ran (well…stumbled) a half marathon in the mud, went to a 90’s dance party where rach, lily, aves, and i were the first to get there and last to leave, landed a job, had an ultrasound in which i flashed the pee-cup-getter, learned that i CAN NOT sit through a full football game and, fortunately, avery can’t either, sat in a fancy suite at the salt lake real game and drank so much of the free diet pepsi, and got really nostalgic over summer term.in october, i watched bruce get baptized, went to vegas with rachael, celebrated my cousin sean’s birthday with my aunt, grandma, and mother in town, spent halloween day as a fifth-wheel (WILLINGLY!), drove for fifteen hours straight squeezed in a car with landon, phil, josh, and brighton to portland, rode around on a moped called hidalgo, and watched the entire kardashian wedding with my sister, mother, and grandma in canby, oregon. in november, i watched the vandal vs. byu game alongside my fellow idahoans, celebrated a faux-thanksgiving with my family in a hotel room in utah because beau and rosemary couldn’t make it back, made the executive decision to hop on a bus early and come home for an extended thanksgiving break in which i ate ice cream every day, and got hit by a car on my bike? boo that.

in december, i fell in an even deeper love with my friends and college experience, had the BEST birthday ever and was completely and totally surprised at a dessert shop, bought a camera (mostly)all by myself!, went to the first presidency christmas message, won an intramural championship (ha!), ate far too much at tucano’s and had the best friend-date ever with lindsay, josh, and landon, made a silly youtube video, said sad goodbyes to josh and landon, didn’t take finals seriously enough (oopsies…), came home for break and did real idaho-y things like shoot guns and eat potatoes, and celebrated the new years by taking kenziggy pop out for a movie and sneaking in popcorn and sodas and getting surprised that my kylie-friend is in town!the end; bring it on 2012.

sushi and t.m.i.

A wise man once said that when you have nothing else to talk about, you talk about the current condition of your insides:

Currently there is a full-blown battle going on inside of my stomach. The sushi I ate today is having a terribly animated argument with the raspberry-lemon sherbet who is also in a quarrel with the dried apricots that are in the midst of a large altercation with the honey-ham slices.

I think tonight is probably the best night to make some new friends in the community bathroom?

Speaking of bathrooms(my favorite segue!)(I need to stop trying to purposely bring up bathrooms so I can share my 1,000 bathroom stories)(…especially around the opposite gender…), I have a story! Once upon a time I played basketball. I should probably use the term ‘played’ loosely; I mostly just cheered and clapped and distracted people at practice. But anyways, I played basketball.

Before every game, I would imagine all the possible ways I could embarrass myself in front of the large crowd(okay, the few supportive parents) that came and watched our game, tantalized by our high scores and ingenious plays. But anyways, I would imagine all these ways!

Thinking about potentially airballing/getting overly dike-y/dying on the court would make me so nervous before the games that I would have to speed walk/booty clench all the way over to the bathrooms to relieve my…nerves.

One particular game was no different from the others. Five minutes before tip-off, my brain started swarming with these humiliating hypothetical situations and I sprint-clenched my way over to the ladies’ room.

When I walked in a did a little silent yip in my head because there was no one else in there. I decided to take the middle stall, naturally, and cozied(not a word?) on down into the seat to…relieve.

My nerves were especially loud that game but, who cares, I was alone for Pete’s sake!

All of a sudden(!!!), the doors squeaked and two pairs of overly-tanned legs walked in right as my nerves were about to reach maximum…relief.

I was in full panic mode! What was I to do? I had to finish! I couldn’t just stop!

I folded my legs up unto the toilet seat so that they couldn’t see me and watched through the crack as they made their way to the toilets beside me, waited for them to get situated…and then I let my nerves fly. Over and over and over again.

The toilets flushed and the two girls walked out, gave each other the you-are-disgusting-I-can’t-believe-you-just-did-that face, and walked out in silence as I sat there, relieved.

I think I might have ruined their friendship?

…and probably your night.

Sushi and T.M.I…such a lethal combination.

dear moscow high school…

Dear Moscow High School,

We have had a great four years together. Though many times I openly cursed you and rarely was I present for the whole SEVEN hour day (seven hours!), I’d like to thank you for everything.

Thank you to the teachers, both the good ones and the bad ones, for teaching me daily how to text behind my back, utilize SparkNotes, and build the perfect barrier for sleeping during class. Oh, and thank you, dear teachers, for being so kind when you woke me up, you truly mastered the gentle yet firm tap on the shoulder.

Thank you for the bathrooms that were seemingly ALWAYS occupied whenever I had to do some serious bathroom business every morning and after lunch (blame the Fiber One bars…). And thank you for the etchings in the stalls, especially the one that said ‘Why so serious?’ with the reply ‘Because I’m taking a s&*%!’ written right underneath. That one made me chuckle.

Thank you for the school dances that always served as an affirmation that I am, indeed, as white as they come and do, indeed, have no rhythm…whatsoever. Also thank you for having no rhyme or reason to the songs you played, dear dances, and constantly playing songs that no one knew how to dance to including ‘Gold Digger’ (inevitable: fake shoveling), ‘Airplanes’, and the legendary ‘Come Sail Away.’ Also thank you for always playing ‘Hot in Here’ by Nelly and making it easier to weed out the d-bags (answer: the ones who, at the end of the dance, are in their wife beaters…yelk).

Thank you, dear high school, for providing me with friends of all sorts and also for Arts Fest, I liked that. Thank you for old-fashioned chocolate milk in the vending machines (but NOT for jacking the prices up a quarter this year!) and packs of gum for $.75 at the student store. Thank you for making it so easy to unblock YouTube and Facebook at school and thank you for gossip magazines and comfy couches in the library.

Thank you for 4 years, good days and bad days included. Well, maybe not ALL the bad days (like the one where my iPod was stolen, or the one where some boy ate my entire lunch including my peanut butter and banana sandwich, red jello, and carrot sticks).

Thank you for all of it. But most of all, thank you for only being over.

Sort of sincerely,

Brooke Mosman

elementary school talent show

For my entire high school career, final’s week always warranted for minimum sleep, thousands of note cards, unkempt hair, and zits. I am always cramming in as much information as I can and trying to make up for sleeping and texting all day during classes. I remember in 10th grade, I was so stressed that my mother gave me some aroma-therapy lilac smelling deliciousness to relieve some of my franticness. She also gave me a flask full of whiskey, engraved with the phrase ‘Good luck, favorite child!’, but that is besides the point.

This year, however, has been different. Finals week has been a breeze. Last night I opted out of studying and instead made cookies (well, I watched the Real Housewives Finale as the bearded one made cookies–they were chocolate chip with Oreo cookies inside of them; inventive, no?) and this morning I went for a seven mile run (irrelevant and a lie; but it impressed you, right?).

To further prove my point, I am currently typing this during a finals session. Point proven.

Moving on. For the Advanced Placement Spanish class (yes, Advanced Placement) final today we walked up to the elementary school to watch our teacher’s daughter’s performance. Right when we walked in I spotted an open seat right in the middle of the parent’s section and quickly took advantage of it (I fit right in, I was wearing my mom short’s). A few parent’s eyed me, trying to figure out who my child was, but quickly turned back to watch the girl singing a wonderfully terrible ‘Firework’ by Katy Perry. I snickered to myself at these parents, thinking that I was a mom, and snickered some more at the rest of my class, forced to stand in the back.

I began to get really into the show. I yelled for the two boys with faux hawks (why?!) who shot hoops for a minute as their talent (they were 7/20…they really need to start making cuts at these deals), giggled furiously at the skinny girl who mumbled through ‘Purple People Eater’ and gawked openly at the surprising number of DILFS at this elementary school (a SURPRISING amount!).

Then, it began. The chubby boy who sported a bowl-cut and yellow cut-off shirt sauntered on up to the microphone and announced that he would be singing a rendition of ‘Eye of the Tiger.’ He started off quietly and gradually worked into a stand up performance complete with yelling, panting, dancing, and overhead clapping (MY FAVORITE!). Naturally, I joined in on the overhead clap and exchanged glances with the kid’s parents (how did I know? the dad was ALSO sporting a cutoff)(…not a dilf).

I began to wonder where my Advanced Placement Spanish class was at the end of JV Survivor’s rockstar performance (standing ovations aren’t contagious? whatttt?!) and turned to give the room a quick scan.

Long story shorter: THEY  HAD LEFT ME! Apparently my Spanish teacher’s daughter had already performed so they had left five minutes after arriving. I had been sitting, swaying, giggling and overhead clapping completely alone while my Advanced Placement Spanish class was back in the room, studying for the final like most normal high schoolers. I snuck out of the small auditorium, making sure to congratulate yellow cutoff boy, and walk-sprinted down to the high school. As I tore through the doors of my Advanced Placement Spanish class, they merely laughed and continued on studying. Anticlimactic.

Oh well, I would trade all the precious study minutes in the world to see that chubby little man singing his heart out again.

p.s. I am currently loving on this song and video. Her little tap dance jig makes me really, really excited for my tap dancing class at BYU. Say hello, calf muscles.

love note to may

Sweet mother of pearl, its June. The month of May flew by like a Peregrine Falcon (which is the fastest bird in the world, wouldn’t you know). Even though I love June, I really do, I find myself getting all nostalgic over May (I get nostalgic over a lot of things lately: old Disney TV shows, having no finals, a fast metabolism, when Nene Leaks wasn’t annoying, elementary school in its entirety).May was my favorite. It was like the Chandler of Friends (are you a Chandler fan? I’m a Chandler fan) or the purple and red skittles. May was picnics and puppies and amusement parks and my last school dance ever and allergies and bike riding and large, succulent burgers. May was 31 best days ever!And now it’s June. And June is graduating and packing and moving and college and new roommate awkwardness (it’s inevitable; hypothetically speaking, if roommate is talking while changing, do you continue conversation and just don’t look at them? or do you continue conversation while continuing to look at them…changing? ) and ninety degree weather in Utah (and being modest in ninety degree weather just sounds daunting!).

So this is my love note to May.

 

what would mrs. brady do?

The following is a true story. In fact, it’s probably the most-true story I’ve told yet:

I’ve never been a fan of the Lord of the Rings trilogy(or ‘Outsourced’, or Nicholas Cage, or pizza pockets…but that’s besides the point). Gun to my head: I don’t think I have ever finished an entire movie. Usually I fall asleep, change the channel to something “with a little less elven romance” or temporarily die of boredom, temporarily

But not tonight. Tonight I bonded with Gollum…err was it Frodo? I don’t remember the names.

I experienced the overwhelming and overpowering evils of ‘the ring.’

Well, not necessarily ‘the ring’. This ring was different. There were no elven inscriptions warning that the ring was ‘a closer look at evil.’ There was no skinny little creepy midget men(now THAT’S Gollum, right? Or is it Frodo?) warning me to steer clear and save myself.

Nay, this ring was terrifically haughty and seemingly harmless.

You see, today I decided that supporting my school’s basketball team in their district play would be a good idea. I arrived promptly during the third quarter(I could’ve sworn it start at 7:30!) and spotted my short little blonde friend, Taylor.

We began to talk about life and love(or, in my case, the absolute lack of love), at extent, and then her hand caught my eye. Specifically, her finger, Specifically, her left pointer finger.

Wrapped around that finger was the most beautiful ring I had ever seen. Like I said before, it was terrifically haughty; a big white crystal in the center with other little crystals surrounding(…that was a terrible description, but, you know), it even glistened in the flurouscent lights of the gym.

Instantly, I grabbed her hand, stole the ring, and shimmied it down the forbidden fourth finger on the left hand.

At first, I was fine. I was so consumed in ooh-ing and aww-ing over my faux-wedding ring that I had no idea what was going on around me or, better yet, inside of me.

After a few far-too long minutes of adoring my hand, I began to feel different.

And not just because I had violently inhaled two tacos and half of an Oreo blizzard two hours prior.

Nay, it was something far, far more serious.

It was ‘the force.’

Wait, wrong movie.

…well, it was something serious.

I began to break out in a slight cold sweat and my ovaries began to ache.

(baby fever? could it be?!)

I started feeling uncomfortable in my jeggings and tunic top and instantly wanted to don a pair of high-waisted ‘mom’ jeans(…or pajama jeans, for that matter) and a festive sweater with a brooch(or maybe a pin declaring that I was ‘world’s best mom’).

I began worrying about things like laundry and the effectiveness of off-brand baking powder.

And I had the sudden urge to start cycling.

 

I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed my coat, power-walked out the door, and searched for my Camry-gone-mini-van.

When I arrived at my house-gone-home, ring-less, the evils of the ring were very much still in effect.

Within fifteen minutes, I was Mrs. Brady short of a crappy haircut and incestual(not a word, that’s okay) relationships manifesting between my imaginary six children.

Compelled by the powers of the ring, I decided that baking a nice bedtime snack for my brother-gone-son(gross!) would be of my best interest.

So, naturally, I logged on to allrecipes.com and researched a fun, new, inventive cookie recipe.

(banana chocolate chip cookies)

And, naturally, I made them.

 

They kinda completely sucked.

Mrs. Brady dream = crushed.

Being a mom= indefinitely post-poned(duh).

Oh, and I still hate LOTR.

Prepare for a pointless post

Begin pointless post:

In a moment of incredible boredom, I decided going to my school’s Sadie Hawkins dance sounded like an okay idea.

So, naturally, I asked two people.

And, naturally, they both accepted.

We tossed around the idea of famous threesomes(don’t Google and DON’T YouTube) for a few days and found ourselves in a pickle between the Holy Trinity(kidding), the three little pigs(not kidding), and the Harry Potter trio but an unscene contender proved to be the victor: the ‘Big 3’ (=Lebron James, Dwayne Wade, and Chris Bosh of the Miami Heat)(not kidding, unfortunately). Our costumes consisted of a Sharpie’d white tee-shirt and various sweat bands. I got to wear my yoga pants, so I didn’t complain.

Pre-dance we hit up the fanciest joint in town, Pizza Hut.

(Why does Pizza Hut guarantee a bubbly stomach and multiple trips to the restroom? Better question: why do I keep going there?)

Then, we argued about actually attending the dance and I found myself begging, pleading, and even trying to use yoga pants manipulation to convince them to go to the dance.

Thankfully, the yoga pants prevailed. We went to the dance. And paid a whole ten dollars. And stayed a whole twenty minutes.

I realized that I hadn’t actually wanted to go to the dance at all.  I hadn’t heard one song they played  nor did I notice the decorations. I hadn’t said ‘hello’ to anyone as we walked in or ‘goodbye’ as we walked out.

All I had wanted was to see the awkward interactions manifesting on the dance floor.

And I paid ten dollars for it.

And it was delightfully worth it.

So here is my formal thank you issued to Moscow High School dances and our lack of dancing skills. Thank you for never teaching us how to properly dance and for playing songs that confuse everyone and our lack of dance-floor instincts(Gold Digger by Kanye West and Love the way you Lie by Eminem prove to be my personal favorites–right when the music starts everyone tries to figure out a fitting dance and, without fail, fails).

Commence pointless post.

P.S. Valentines Day is tomorrow. Barf.