CALLER NUMBER THREE

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When I was in the fourth grade I wanted to win Mariah Carey tickets so badly. And every time they'd ask for caller number nine I would dial and dial and dial....always to no avail. But! Last night, close to midnight, when most normal people were sleeping, I HAD MY CHANCE. The smooth sounds of jazz were filling the cabin of my car and I was listening to the sultry voice of KUER's Steve Williams, "Monica Mancini is performing with the Utah Symphony this weekend and in a few minutes we'll be giving away two tickets to one of our late night listeners." Then he rattled off the number and I went to Never Never Land.

"I'll never never win any such thing, but if I did that would make my husband so happy" Says I.

I turned a corner and tuned back into the words coming out of my car speakers. Thinking that I had already missed my opportunity, I put my cell phone down. Then I heard it:

"Caller number three will win, dial this number...bla bla bla."

I grabbed my weapon and comanded it to dial fast, but not too fast (I didn't want number one or two) then...busy signal. Another minute passes with this anticipation. Busy signal, busy signal, busy signal. Finally, I tried one last time--the phone was ringing and I was sure I was caller number four.

"Hello," said Steve (we're on first name terms now).

Collectedly with a tinge of hope I asked, "Am I caller number three?"

"You are CALLER NUMBER THREE."

I didn't know what to do, scream? Cry? Cuss? I've never had this experience before and the Jazz music in the background created an oxymoronic experience. I felt better than everyone else who was calling in, I was supreme and my phone, my trusty little companion was there for me the entire time.

I know it's not Mariah Carey, and I know I am not going to hear "Butterfly" or "Sweet Fantasy" but it is Monica Mancini, daugther of the composer of "MOON RIVER." If she has uncontrollable vibrato and the ability to whistle when she forgets the words--Mrs. Williams style, then, then I will be completly satisfied hearing the deep and meaningful words "Wider than the Nile, I'll cross you in style someday."

I remember

One time when i was about five or six, I was staying at my cousins house. My cousins always have some of the craziest ideas. And this night was no exception. It was the beginning of all our adventures.

The mission: we were to run around the house NAKED with only our pillow cases and maybe our panties too. And whoever did it was deemed cool. Of course it was girls only. I waited until my turn and finally I zoomed around the back yard and then rushed around a corner. It was a beautiful moonlit night. Once I got around the corner I decided to take it at a slower pace. And then....my boy cousing Aaron came rushing around the corner. I grabbed my pillowcase and shrinked as low as I could. I could only look at him and hope he didn't see my full monty (although I don't think it's really considered that for little kids) I think our conversation went like this.

Aaron: what are you doing

Me: Um. we're just playing a game and--you can't play with us. Because I am naked.
(I really don't remember what I said, all I remember is being horrified and then walking back around to the back yard and telling all my cousins that I got caught.)

Now that I look back on that adventure I just hope that there weren't any pedophiles around.

Another event that will forever stay in my mind as one of the craziest and funnest nights ever was when I was at my other cousins house. They lived right off of a highway, and their front yard had a few trees lining the edge closest to the highway. We were closer to our teens at this time and our obsession was mooning. So we would run to the freeway and stand there casually talking (all of our pants were unbuttoned and ready to go at any moment) and finally, when a car would come closer we'd drop our drawers and shake our fanny's long and shaky so the cars would definitely notice. This would happen one person at a time and then we would run giggling through the trees and towards the porch. The highlight of this experience wasn't the full moons, but one time when we came running back, my cousin Darci ran through two trees that apparently had a garden hose stretched between them about the height of her shoulders. I have never seen anyone get clotheslined and this was the funniest thing ever. It picked up her entire body, parallel with the ground, and flung her back to mother earth. This combined with the giggling was too much and we called it a night.

And finally, one time Darci, Sheena, and I decided to stay over at grandpa's farm. And we rented a scary movie that was rated R. URBAN LEGENDS. The funny part of this was every scary part where Darci and Sheena would plug their ears close their eyes and sing at the top of their lungs

"MY BOLOGNA HAS A FIRST NAME, IT'S O-S-C-A-R...."

This made me laugh so much then we all cuddled together and fell asleep.

A Fancy Pedicure

I traveled to Tucson last Wednesday to see some MLB Spring Training and of course to get a pedicure. I realize that Tucson is actually one of the ugliest cities that I have ever seen. It really ain't got no alibi. But nevertheless, I did find something I loved there. THE TUCSON SCHOOL OF BEAUTY. I walked in with dirty feet, dirt under my toenails, and calluses, and came out with clean feet and toenails, freshly filed, and painted pink. I felt pretty. More than pretty, I felt pampered and all dolled up. Even though I was wearing a grungy looking shirt with cut off shorts and flip flops.

If you have never felt the joy of sitting on your arse, kicking your feet up to be rubbed, scrubbed, and polished (I couldn't think of another "ubbed" homonym), then you had better make an appointment at the nearest beauty parlor near you. What an incredible experience. I had the incredible taste for the finer things in life. So, accordingly afterwards, I went shopping. OLD NAVY style. What a great trip.

So even though Tucson is ucky, I was lucky and I scored cute pants, and a fancy pedicure.

All Night Long

Van Gogh's Starry Night over the Rhone

I recently, as of yesterday, pulled an all-nighter. It wasn't too hard, in fact I had to do it. I work at a home with three High-Functioning Disabled men. Somebody has to be there around the clock, so fortunately it was ME on Tuesday. Some people thought I was crazy. Some people were in awe, but seriously it wasn't hard. In fact it reminded me of the 6th grade sleepover my friends had where we tried to stay up all night long. I did really well and stayed up all the way until 4:45am. I should have known, but those girls did the most awful things to the girl who fell asleep first (ie. Shaving Cream, Frozen Bra's, and Moving my sleeping bag behind the couch). So needless to say, I knew I couldn't fall asleep. Somewhere in the depths of my mind, that first sleepover still haunts my mind and I don't want to EVER again put on a frozen bra.

What did I do all night long? Well, let me tell you I had the most fun ever. And I bet everone wished that they stayed up all night after hearing this.

First I watched TV. (Some TV addicts would say this is boring, but to a college student who doesn't have cable, it was fascinating). The GSN (Game Show Network) has "That 70's hour" where they schedule old Game Shows where the men harrass the women like crazy. Design on a dime totally redid a sitting room for UNDER $1,000. It was amazing. And it looked really good. Then, two vuloptuous women wore plunging neck lines to sell a work out video on HSN (which I recently discovered stands for: Home Shopping Network). I mean, seriously, did they really have to show all of that off? Why? Why? why? And, two other women got a new outfit and got to shop with the "hottest celebrity stylists." The catch was that they only got $150. If I wanted a time to shop with celeb stylists, I would definitely NEED more than that. What a rip off. After the joy of flipping through a hundred channels for the first hour and a half, my vocab was rich (GSN, HSN), and my sense of style peaked with fashionable and afordable rooms and outfits to think on.

After TV, I did what most people do to stay awake--Handstands! I am obsessed with Handstands. I love them and I want to be better at doing them. Don't ask, just amuse.

And next, Laundry, dishes, and washing walls. Pretty much the boring stuff. But I did have some eye candy in the DVD player: A River Runs Through It.

The highlight of my night was the awful pain of stubbing my pinky toe when I wobbled around the couch after some handstands. I couldn't shreik like I wanted to, I couldn't cuss, or kick the couch. What fun is stubbing your toe if no one sees you do it? And why even do it if no one can hear you scream in pain? Well it's not fun at all, especially at 3:30 in the morning in a house that isn't yours.

Then after washing the upstairs walls I fell down the stairs. Can I sue for that? I didn't break anything, just my A##, and my back is killing me today? Does that count? C'mon I can barely bend over, I feel like an eighty year old woman.

If you've missed the joy of staying up all night with your friends and giggling, just try to pull an all nighter now, watch tv, clean the house do whatever you want, but if you want me to join you, there is no way in Heck.