Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Not alone

Well I've been wondering if my life is unusually full of awkward, painful moments and experiences. Today I realized I am not alone. In fact, my experiences are nothing compared to some. Here is one that made me laugh so hard I cried. It is the funniest thing I've ever read/imagined.

My sympathy also goes out to these people... or my gratitude for their humor.

Saturday, September 1, 2012

One in a million

*Names have been changed to protect identities, but, if we are being honest and realistic, mine is the only one that really needs it.

Today I ran into a friend from high school who I haven't seen in a really long time. We chatted for a little while and since we are at BYU, of course the subject of dating came up. After taking some time away from the dating scene and being in Romania, I've become very detached from the notion of dates. So when this friend, we will call her Wemily, asked me if I wanted to go on a date, I did the normal, "Oh definitely/ I'm totally a cool girl/ who wouldn't want to date me?" thing. Unfortunately, I wasn't even considering the possibility that it would be so soon. All of a sudden I was volunteered to go on the infamous BLIND DATE for that evening.

BLIND DATE= noun. (1) An incredibly unfortunate way of meeting new people that usually ends up in more than one  awkward friend who you only know as the person you once embarrassed yourself in front of by doing that one thing you do that only your mom thinks is "special." (2) A dating activity beginning with high expectations, resulting with much lower success rates.

Anyways... it's 8pm and I have an hour before the date starts. I get ready. It's 8:07. I try to read about epigenesis in my textbook but after ten minutes, I'm still reading the same paragraph without anything sticking. I go and chow down on some carrots. 8:20. I have no idea what I did for the next 40 minutes... it's all an unproductive blur.

Wemily texts me about 8:45. "Text you when we are on our way"

"Ok call me if you get lost"

9:00 No text.



9:48 Ok time to figure out if this date is happening or not. Call Wemily.

No cell service.

Oh, poop.

By this point, I realize that despite not moving my phone from its spot on my desk, I am in a dead zone and am most likely the problem for not currently being on a date.

Oh, poop.

Now I'm running around my apartment trying to find a spot that will let me call Wemily and explain the situation. It's full on Lion King with my phone. I am super embarrassed because I realize that they have probably been searching and trying to find my remote apartment with no help from me for the past hour. I try not to think about it though. I try all the usual spots with no luck. I go outside and run around outside. Still no luck. I pace around my apartment feeling completely out of options, then I see the balcony. One last chance, I think. (Dramatic, much?)

Out on the balcony I tried calling Wemily, my best friend, her bf, my mom... you get the picture. I was desperate - I did not want to look like a completely incompetent idiot. I finally give up and turn to go back inside.

Oh, poop.

You may soon be wondering this question, "What sort of incompetent idiot closes the door behind her just to find service on the balcony? Isn't that completely inefficient and dumb?" Don't worry people, I asked myself the same question when I realized the door lock had slipped down when I closed it and I was now locked outside on my balcony with no cell service. Believe me when I say I tried extremely hard to open the stupid door. It only made me look like a bigger idiot.

So I'm stuck on my balcony. A group walks below and I pretend that I am on my balcony of my own free will, just chilling. Believe me, it was hard to hide the panic and gross realization off my face. Luckily they ignored me for the most part and were speaking Chinese so even if they commented on my situation, I had no clue.

Stuck, stuck, stuck. My only options are to get someone to go in through my apartment and unlock the door or climb over the balcony and make the jump down. There's no way I'm subjecting myself to more embarrassment so logically I secure my useless phone and climb over the balcony. On my descent down, I am very aware that this choice may be even more embarrassing if someone walked by mid-monkey pose and if I happened to break my ankle it'd make the whole situation even more comical. Only not.

Fortunately, I stick the landing and upon entering my apartment I finally get through to Wemily. I haven't used that many "sorry!"s in a really long time. Wemily tells me that my date is on his way to pick me up and has my number in case he gets lost. Because we know how well that worked out last time. I say sorry one more time and mention my apartment number.

"Oh yeah, I forgot to say, I'm in number 2! Ok bye!"

This doesn't seem odd or funny until you know that I do not, in fact, live in apartment 2. What possessed me to say that, you might ask? Probably the evil dating god that has obviously been facilitating my dating life the past couple years. But no, I have no idea why I said that.

So I plant myself in a spot that I know I have service in and wait.

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

Eleven minutes.

Twelve minutes.

Knock, knock, knock on my door.

OK. Sigh of relief. The wild goose chase is finally over. I open the door and there stands my date. We introduce ourselves and walk to his car. I'm feeling really bad about the whole thing, but try to forget about it and just have a fun time. But little do I know, there is so much more to this story.

Remember that whole lapse of sanity when I said I lived in #2? Well since my date was not a mind reader or given some sort of inspiration/revelation as to where I actually live (although that would have been a sweet tender mercy that he probably deserved), he, being completely rational, went to #2.

"Hi, is Chelsea here?"

"Oh yeah let me get her." says random roommate in #2.

Oh, poop.

WHAT ARE THE CHANCES. One in a million.

So "Chelsea" comes to the door in her basketball shorts and t-shirt looking completely intrigued as to who her visitor is. This is the problem with blind dates. You walk into them completely blind. And you know what happens when you move the furniture around in a blind person's home.

"Hi I'm Wryan, are you ready to go on our date?"

You can imagine the surprise written across other Chelsea's face. "Umm... what are you talking about? Who are you again?"

"I'm your date...? You know, Wemily set us up and it's been a crazy time trying to find you. Am I missing something?"

"Yeah, I don't know anything about this date... Are you sure you're in the right place?"

This conversation is completely an invention of my imagination as to what took place, because I was actually just sitting in my kitchen waiting with no knowledge of the proceedings taking place downstairs.

Luckily, by one more random coincidence, one of Wryan's friends happened to be hanging out in that apartment so they put their heads together and figured out what had happened. Thanks to our super awesome ward clerk, they managed to find me on the ward directory, leading him to my correct door... probably thinking I was soo not worth the effort (I was thinking the same thing, but don't worry - I decided I totally am. Ha.).

So there you have it. The date was fun and provided a lot more good laughs, mostly at my expense, but still fun. If nothing else, it made for a great blog post.

Moral of the story: In NO circumstance should you close a balcony door behind you when you are alone at home. Or agree to a blind date when you are having a completely-incompetent-idiot sort of day. Or ask me on a date for any other purpose than entertainment and a legendary dating story to tell your grandchildren.

*Funny note: When my date was at #2, he tried calling me... of course my worthless-piece-of-crap phone received no call. Curse you evil dating god. You're ruining my life.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Let's talk about groins

ATTENTION: This post contains the word “groin.” If you are not comfortable with that, please discontinue reading.

Before I tell this story, you have to know a couple of things. First off, I have been training for a half marathon and I just got to a point where I actually want to go running (this is a big deal, in case you were wondering). Secondly, I am in BYU's ice skating class and it's seriously my favorite thing because I want to be Michelle Kwan... remember that because it is important. Finally, you should know that I'm a dancer and every Tuesday night I go with a friend to a jazz/contemporary class that rocks my world. Ok I think that's all the background info needed...
It all started about three weeks ago. Ice skating class was going great and I was beginning to convince myself that if I worked really hard maybe I could go to the next Olympics... I was ripped out of my daydream into reality as I watched my instructor explain/demonstrate those lunge things that all the pros do.
"You mean I am going to be able to actually do that?!” Says the girl to my left. “I thought this was the beginner's class!"
Of course I was sort of thinking that, but seriously, "Shh!! She might change her mind!" was all I said as I pushed her to the ground... haha just kidding, I was too excited to try to intentionally push some random girl to the ground, but I will admit that’s definitely happened on accident before.
Anyways, this isn't a huge part of the story, but I love ice skating so I'm making it a big deal. So we do our lunges and it's halfway successful and we even learned how to do turning lunges. This is what I looked like, NBD.
WELL… I was too excited to take the you-need-to-stretch-because-someone-pulled-their-groin-last-class advice from my teacher. I did a few practice lunges and then I was going across the ice, trying to look like Michelle Kwan.
Now you’re probably thinking this is the point at which I, too, pulled my groin, but surprisingly, all that happened was a lot of sliding on the ice with my face and struggling to get out of the way before someone ran over my fingers before they got a face full of ice. So no foul there. I’m still not disillusioned with my dream of becoming the next Kwan.
Fast-forward four days to Tuesday night. Life is GOOD at this point. Running had been going well and all I wanted was to go to dance and just dance and have fun. All was going according to plan when I had the dumb idea to crack a joke about pulling my groin as we did side switches/turning switch leaps (aka death) across the floor. Murphy’s law worked like a charm and BAM! Pulled groin. You’d think I’d be smart enough to sit out for the last twenty minutes, but if you ever thought that, you are wrong.
OK so I know that this whole story was probably anti-climactic, but hang with me till I tell you how a pulled groin can ruin your social life.
Case study #1 (Later that night):
Roommates (you know who you are): “Chelsea!!!! You need to come to Sammy’s with us cause the whole ward is coming and if you don’t come people will know you aren’t social and you won’t get invited to do anything EVER again…” (true story)
Me: “ Um… I pulled my groin tonight at dance… so probably not…” (throw in a moan to let them know I’m really in pain… in case the huge bag of frozen peas protruding from under my shorts didn’t clue them in)
Roommates: “Oh it doesn’t matter! Come on, nobody will care that you are sweaty and gross and wearing clothes unacceptable for going out in public. We’ll get your bright yellow rain boots so you’ll have a conversation starter!!!
(Yellow rain boots dropped in my lap)
Me: “Ha ha ha funny joke guys. See you later, have a good time!” (really hoping this won’t go on for much longer)
Roommates + boys from ward who just walked in: “Oh come on! We’re making you go! You could meet a cute guy or something.”
Me: “Ok you’re right. Let me practice what I’ll say first…”
At this point I proceeded to exercise my charm and poise as I pretended a boy asked me why I looked miserable in my awesome yellow boots, telling him in a loud voice over the noise of the whole ward in a little restaurant that I “PULLED MY GROIN”… and did he want to go on a date with me? Wow this is fun being here with all these people looking at me funny, this is definitely worth the social status my roommates promised me…
After laughing at my expense, or with me, or whatever, I assured the good-looking people in my apartment that going would NOT be in my best social interest, and probably theirs too. Convinced with my argument, they left with words of encouragement and advice about being social. I still can’t decide if I avoided social failure or not on this one…
Case study #2:
Next morning. Roommate marathon training run. Half a block away from the apartment.
“Yeah… I’m gonna have to sit this one out…”
Running with roommates = NO GO.
Social exile.
Case study #3:
“Um… hey, are you okay?”
“Oh yeah, totally, no big deal…”
“Really? Cause you look like you’re in a lot of pain.”
“Yeah… I pulled my groin the other day and it still hurts…”
“So it’s not because you just fell up the stairs onto your face?”
Moral of the story: If you want to use your injuries to get sympathy or attention or elevate your social status, don’t pick a pulled groin. It makes people uncomfortable.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Motivational People

Last night my roommate and I were talking and I started thinking about how much other people affect my life. Sometimes it's just the little things like talking with your roommate till 1AM or going to lunch with a friend that really make life seem brighter. Lately I've realized how motivational my friends are and how most everyone I interact with makes me want to be better.

For instance, in the next little while I may or may not be posting about a spontaneous road trip down to St. George that involves running a half marathon. I'm not quite sure how it happened but last night, my roommates decided it'd be hilarious and fun if we all ran a half marathon that is less than two weeks away. I guess I'm still wondering about how funny it will be when I am carried across the finish line on a stretcher... maybe it'll be one of those things that will be funny and I can laugh at a long time after... a really long time after. Anyways, the point is I just appreciate the motivation to be better even if it is a seriously psychotic and extreme form of public humiliation... I mean exercise. I have great friends.

Everything that's going on with people in my life made me want to express how I feel when I am inspired by them... and only YouTube could satisfy my desire. You've all probably seen this before, but seriously, it gets better every time. Plus, this kid makes me want to achieve all my hopes and dreams and do something awesome like becoming Shamoo's whale trainer like I've always wanted to, and all in like what? 55 seconds? Yeah he rocks my worlds.

Monday, January 9, 2012


So I guess I am starting a blog. Why? "Cause, like, duh... everyone is like so doing it, guurrll!" Thanks for the social advice, made-up-popular-girl-in-my-head-who-occasionally-lends-advice-about-what-is-cool! Don't worry, I AM being treated for the voices in my head. Anyways, hopefully this should be fun and I will have something to post about. BUT I do have to throw out a disclaimer that this could be the dumbest blog ever or the most boring. Or maybe even so juvenile that people will love to read it so they can laugh at and make fun of what I post. I wish I could say I've never done that, but instead I just want to thank all the hilarious bloggers out there that have entertained me on more than one night. Maybe I can return the favor? We will see. If nothing else, this will be a place where you all can read and see some of the things I do for a social life here in good ol' P-Town.