A Hermit's Ranting Tantrums

Two SQUEE Worthy Bits of News

2011-10-14T09:03:00.000-07:00

I have two exciting pieces of news to deliver. We'll start with the most important.

BLUE BELL IS NOW AVAILABLE IN UTAH!!!

*SQUEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!*

(Ironically enough, I was in Texas when this particular ice cream parlor had their "We now have Blue Bell yay yay yay!" celebration. So, I was going to be having Blue Bell either way. Score. Love you, Texas! And most of all, I love all the wonderful people who let me hang out with them last week. Mwah! Miss you guys!)

And now for the second, slightly less important piece of news:

I'm engaged!

To this guy right here:

Hmmmmmm. Maybe we should find a different pic....

That's better.

*SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!*

I sure do love this boy. Even more than Blue Bell. (Don't tell that to Blue Bell, though. I don't want to hurt its feelings.)

And just for fun, here's a commercial we did together for BYU Broadcasting. Enjoy.

Bucket List Kicked the Bucket

2011-09-08T07:28:00.000-07:00

Prior to this summer, I had two items on my bucket list:

1. Visit Hawaii.
2. Swim with dolphins.

Obviously I'm a big dreamer.

Well, I'm happy to announce that I have officially crossed off both items on said bucket list! *CONFETTI!!* And the cool thing is that I didn't even have to PAY to swim with dolphins. Because all I had to do was jump out of the kayak and swim with them. In the wild.

I give you permission to be jealous.

And while I could go on and on about how much fun I had with Taren and Michelle and Mike, I'd rather just post some pictures and call it good. Yes? Yes.

Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures of swimming with dolphins, so we'll just have to settle for this one with Taren and a turtle.

Totally awesome. Only someone with Taren's skill could manage to get her head and the turtle's into the frame of one of those cheap, disposable, underwater cameras.

(Note: We realize that you're supposed to maintain a distance from sea turtles in Hawaii, so as not to harass them. For the record, this guy was harassing us. We just couldn't stay away, so why not take a photo? )

Conclusions:

1. I need to add some things to my Bucket List.
2. Hawaii is the best.

Freedom!!

2011-06-20T08:36:00.001-07:00

I just realized that I forgot to tell you all that I am now officially out of "Thank you for calling. How can I help you?" land. That's right, friends. I reached my 9 month customer service representative limit, and now I'm going back to music for a little while.

Hooray!

Here's hoping that this time I can make some money. Yes?

Ring Ring! PUNCH!

2011-05-26T08:24:00.000-07:00

As is the case with most brilliant discoveries, I didn't even realize I was conducting an experiment. I thought I was just going to work for the last 9 months. But no! As it turns out, through the wonder of classical conditioning, I have successfully trained myself to react negatively to the ringing of the telephone.

I am a regular Ivan Pavlov. It's true. Someone give me a Nobel Prize right now.
Through my experiments over the last 9 months, I have discovered that a normal person, when forced to listen to the telephone ringing for hours a day followed by an angry call from a customer, will turn into a miserable human being.

Don't believe me? Well, feel free to try the experiment for yourself. I'm sure there are many call centers near you that would be happy to hire you on. Once at work, you will soon discover that every time the phone rings, you will have an almost uncontrollable urge to punch something in the face.

Happy call centering!

What to do, what to do....

2011-05-18T07:42:00.000-07:00

Lately, I've been more of a hermit than normal. Shocking, I know. There are all sorts of reasons for the increase in hermitude, but I can pretty much sum up all of these reasons with the help of this lovely image from thisisindexed.com:

I feel like it's time to move on. Anyone else feel the same way?

There comes a point in life when winter has lasted far too long, and you're just ready for the sun to come out and stay a while. (Curse you, Utah springs. The month of May should not consist of 40 degree weather.)

There comes a point in life when you cannot stand the thought of another work day filled with ringing phones and whining customers and people who don't know how to copy and paste.

There comes a point when you just need to move on.

So, I'm working toward that. It's time to jettison the things in my life that are weighing me down, and to stop choosing things simply because they're easy.

Oh! And it's time to start crossing things off my bucket list--starting with Hawaii. Before this summer is over, I WILL go to Hawaii and I WILL swim with dolphins.

Want to join me? Feel free. Hermits unite!

Take Your Daylight Saving Time and Stick It Where the Sun Don't Shine. Cause That's When I'm Driving To Work Now.

2011-03-15T06:33:00.000-07:00

(I realize I'm a little late posting about this, but I was too busy napping.)

Ah, Daylight Saving: That magical time of year when all of us (Arizona not included) lose an hour of precious sleep. And, since few of us are getting enough sleep to begin with, this creates a lot of angry, zombie-like people, searching for someone to blame for cutting into our nap time. To whom does the Flying Fickle Finger of Fate usually end up pointing? The one and only Ben-jammin Franklin.

(Am I the only one who thinks this is super creepy?)

"Darn you, Benjamin!" we say. "Why didn't you keep your blasted opinions to yourself?! We're fine with you being on the 100 dollar bill and all, but COME ON!"

Now, I love my sleep just as much as the next guy, and I hate Daylight Saving time MORE than the next guy, but I think we all need to take a step back and give poor Ben a break.

Here's the deal: Benjamin Franklin's whole suggestion for this business was satirical in nature. Just the writings of a brilliant guy who was probably bored sitting in a house in Paris. (Here's the whole letter, if you want to read it.) So, should we really be blaming Ben? Or should we be blaming all of us (Arizona not included) for continuing to do this STUPID MOVE-THE-CLOCKS-FORWARD-AND-BACK THING?!

*Jules gets so upset she falls into a deep sleep. Narcolepsy style.*

Ahem. Excuse me.

This is what I'm asking for, People of the World. I want to hear at least three good, solid reasons for why I lost an hour of sleep this week, and why I'm driving to work in the dark. If the reason includes something like, "It's great! It stays lighter longer," I don't want to hear it. Know why? BECAUSE THERE IS STILL THE SAME AMOUNT OF LIGHT!! Now, however, when I'm driving to work at 6:30 in the morning, IT'S DARK! Know why? BECAUSE I'M REALLY DRIVING TO WORK AT 5:30 IN THE MORNING!!

*Angry Jules. "Flames. Flames on the side of my face...."*

The other thing I don't want to hear is that it saves us all so much money. I hear this often, but I have yet to see any real proof of this supposed fact. Does anyone have some hardcore evidence of this? (Or would you like to Google it for me?) People keep telling me that it saves so much money, but I have yet to see the data. So, show it to me.

And, even if you can prove that it saves money, I don't care. I'll just leave me lights on twice as long out of spite. Take THAT!

Next year, I'm boycotting. This is the worst idea ever.

That's enough. I'm going back to sleep.

Flife!

2011-03-10T06:38:00.000-08:00

My most loyal reader (Hi Dad!) has been dropping several hints lately about my lack of blogging.

"Well, I don't know what's going on in Jules' life, since she never blogs anymore."

"Dad, we live in the same house. I talk with you all the time."

"It's not on the blog...."

And, since I've moved to a new place (finally), I no longer have an excuse for my slacking. And, since it's my most loyal reader's birthday today (Happy Birthday, Dad!), I figure I owe it to him to at least blog a little bit.

So, since I haven't written a haiku in a while, here are two:

(For Padre)

Throw some confetti.

Please party responsibly.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

(On Julianna's Life As a Twenty-Something)

Life is happening.

What more do you want to know?

I need to sleep more.

I hope life is treating you all well! And if it's not, you should body slam it.

(And Happy Birthday, Dad!)

Practice Safe Text

2011-01-21T12:00:00.000-08:00

(I want one of these shirts--minus the unnecessary apostrophe.)

Still not sure about this National Hermit Month thing? Still need reasons to stay in your house and never come out? Well, let me teach you about one woman who should have celebrated National Hermit Month with the rest of us.

Meet Cathy Cruz Marrero:, the woman who tripped into a fountain while texting, and was lucky enough to get caught on tape.

(By the way, I'm sorry to say that this isn't the greatest video of the incident. Unfortunately, the good one was taken off of YouTube because of Cathy's whining, which I will discuss in a minute.)

Now, there's an embarrassing moment worth sharing during getting-to-know-you conversations. You could pretty much "one up" anyone.

"Cathy, what's your most embarrassing moment?"

"Well, let me show you, man. It's epic. I got millions of hits on YouTube."

I, for one, would be proud that such a hilarious moment was caught on film. In fact, the next time I do something idiotic like that in a public place, I'm going to find the security guards and ask if they caught it on tape.

But, not Cathy. She had a completely different reaction to this whole situation, and decided to become angry. Watch this.

I have so many issues with this. SOOO many.

First of all, if she would have just kept her mouth shut, NO ONE would have known that this was her. Honestly, if you watch the video, you can't even tell that it's a woman.

Secondly, it drives me nuts that she says, "I usually don't walk and text. I don't do that. I wait til I go home and text." Lady, I don't believe you for one second. And who cares if you walk and text? Everyone does. Not everyone falls in a fountain while they're doing that, but to each her own.

Thirdly, it's maddening that she's trying to sue mall security for not coming to check on her. "Sometimes there's not water in that fountain. I could have been really hurt." Obviously, there was water in that fountain because she was soaking wet. And, obviously, she wasn't hurt because she stood up and walked away. So, just shut up, lady. Laugh it off, lady! She's making it worse by trying to fight this. Now everyone just heartily dislikes her.

Fourthly, she says she would never post a video like this. She would think of the person's feelings. BULL. I'm sure she's done her fair share of posting funny videos on her Facebook wall, or watching America's Funniest Home Videos back in the day. Let's face it: This kind of stuff is HILARIOUS when it's not happening to you!

And, finally: "What would you like people to learn about texting?"

"It's dangerous."

*Blink.*

Nope, being inattentive is dangerous.

So, Cathy, I wish you the best, but you are not handling this in the right way. You should have just stayed at home. And now you have way more problems than just an embarrassing YouTube video.

Let that be a listen to you, hermits and shermits everywhere. Don't leave your house in January.

You've still got a week left in Hermit Month. Make it count!

A (completely fabricated) History of Hermits

2011-01-12T07:50:00.000-08:00

What is this National Hermit Month, you may be asking, and how did it all come about? Excellent questions, my friends. Excellent questions, indeed.

The truth is that Hermits and Shermits (she hermits) have been around since the very first January decided to declare its presence with characteristic cold weather and general orneriness. Now, I wasn't there for the inception (BWONG!) of the hermits, but I imagine it happened like this:

*DRAMATIZATION*

Scene: MAN and WOMAN have finished their December holiday partying, and decide it's time to leave their cave for some fresh air. They take a deep breath and take one step out of their cave, when suddenly EVIL JANUARY runs out of the woods and uses his icicle club to bludgeon MAN and WOMAN repeatedly until they have no choice but to limp back into the safety of their cave. EVIL JANUARY laughs maniacally.

The End.

And that was the beginning of fairies. I mean hermits.

So, really, we come by our hermithood naturally. It's perfectly normal for people to want to crawl inside a hole and do nothing but sit in a bubble bath and watch Castle all day, because that's what our ancient ancestors did. (That's right. They had bubble baths and TV in the stone age. Don't let anyone tell you differently.) The next time someone tries to chastise you for being lazy in the month of January, feel free to chastise them for attempting to thwart Mother Nature.

Take THAT, you ambitious, non-hermits.

Well, I've let slip some of my fav hermit activities. What are yours? Anyone?

(If you say World of Warcraft, you shall be stricken from my blog. Also, this is terrifying. Completely unrelated, but terrifying.)

Happy hermit-ing!

GASP!

2011-01-10T16:19:00.000-08:00

Oh no! It's National Hermit Month (Julianna's made-up month) and I've missed nearly a third of it!

I am a disgrace to all hermits. Or am I? *Raised eyebrow*

I will have you know that I have been extremely hermitish so far this January--cranky, whiny, depressed, etc. Ha! I have been the best hermit ever!

Actually, I've been distracted by a few things...mainly these adorable guys:

So, maybe I've been a little distracted. BUT FEAR NOT! The hermit-ing will continue.

Let the National Hermit Month Festivities begin!

Mornings. GAH.

2010-12-08T06:44:00.000-08:00

I am not a morning person. Have I mentioned this before? Yes. Will I continue to mention it? As long as I have to wake up in the morning, yes.

Are there any other non-morning people who feel my pain--the pain that comes from rolling out of bed before 6 am? I'm betting most of the people reading this feel the same way I do, as a matter of fact. So, here's my question:

If the majority of us are NOT morning people, why is it that we allow morning people to dictate our work/school schedules, hmm? Is it because they get up before we do and beat us to all of the decision-making meetings?

"All those in favor of starting the work day before 10 raise your hands. Hey! It looks like everyone here is in favor of this proposition. That's surprising! I thought for sure that the night people would vote against it."

"Um, sir, we're holding this meeting at 7:30 am. None of the night people made it."

"Ah."

Well, let's not be bullied any longer. I say we decide to start the work day at 10:00 am. None of this starting at 7:00 am stuff. Night people, now is the time to unite. Here is my plan:

First of all, we deprive the morning people of their caffeine. I'm sure they wouldn't be so happy about mornings without their coffee.

Secondly...that's as far as I've gotten. I'll work more on the plan when it's not so early in the morning. And then we will conquer, and the world will be glorious. I mean, if all businesses decided to open at ten, it would be totally cool! We could all get a little more sleep or get a few things done around the house or whatever. Brilliant? Yes. I should rule the world. But only after 10 am.

NO, Katy. NO.

2010-12-02T06:13:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time, I mentioned a few people who need a "No Girl"--someone to just say no to their bad ideas. Well, let me add Katy Perry to that list.

There are many times a No Girl would have been helpful for Katy. ("I think I'm going to marry Russell Brand." "No, Katy. No.") But I'm only going to address one.

Have you heard Katy's song Firework? I like it. It's catchy and has a nice message. However, have you seen the Firework music video? No? Behold! (You only need to watch the first minute or so to catch the "No" moment, though the whole video is weird.)

Now, children, can any of you guess which moment requires a no? Choose from one of the following options:

a) Shots of the city
b) Pool party
c) Family fight
d) THAT ONE PART WHERE FIREWORKS START SHOOTING OUT OF HER BOOBS.

Any guesses? D? Is that your final answer?

*Dora the Explorer Voice* VERY GOOD!

Honestly! What is going on? I get the concept--we're all special and have light within us. Yada yada. But is that really the best visual? Fireworks shooting out of our chests? Call me crazy, but I don't find that image very inspiring. To be honest, it reminds me of that scene from Austin Powers where the Go Go Girl Robots have machine guns in their chests....

Sorry. We're getting a little graphic today.

The point is that it's high time I make a business out of this No Girl thing. Everybody needs a No Girl (including me). I could be rich. RICH!

So, who wants to be the first person to hire me? Anyone, anyone? Willow Smith?

Well, Byron....

2010-12-01T07:03:00.001-08:00

I work in a very small call center. In fact, there are certain times during the day when only one person is on the phone. Today, I got chewed out by someone who was on hold for too long. As I was apologizing to him and explaining that I was the only one answering phone calls at the moment, I couldn't help but think of :26 of this clip:

"Well, Byron, surprisingly, it's just me."

Is it weird that I think this clip is hilarious? Maybe it's the lack of sleep. 7:00 am is way too early for me to be functioning... *Twitch.*

The Other Dark Meat

2010-11-30T06:39:00.001-08:00

Oh! Just to give you a little glimpse of what I've been doing for the last little while, here's the Demon Chicken trailer. I've written all the music for the film (including what you hear in the trailer), and I may or may not be the blue girl in this.... Come see it, my friends! Tickets are just three bucks, and it should be lots of fun. (How often do you get to go to a red carpet premier, anyway?) I will see you there!

Bears Have It So Easy.

2010-11-30T06:14:00.000-08:00

I keep starting blog posts, attempting to make up for the hiatus I've taken from writing, but the perfectionist in me screams, "No! Not good enough! You have to do something epic to make up for your neglect!" That darn perfectionist. It's impossible for me to get anything done with her around. So, I've taken this moment to gag the perfectionist within and lock her in the closet, so to speak. Quick! Let's have a chat before she gets out!

How have y'all been? (Please feel free to verbalize your answer.) Wonderful, wonderful. I've been cold and tired, but other than that I'm fantastic. You know what I've discovered? Scraping the ice off my car is one of my least favorite activities ever, and doing it at 6:30 in the morning is hell. Oh, if only there were a way to hibernate through the winter....

Somebody get me some Hibernol, STAT!

Uh oh. Miss Perfectionist is starting to break out. I'll see you later.

Public Service Announcement #3

2010-10-21T13:29:00.000-07:00

This month, I want us to work on eliminating this phrase:

"I like long walks on the beach."

Example: My name's Julianna, and I like long walks on the beach.

Why am I targeting this one, you may ask? BECAUSE I CAN'T LISTEN TO IT ANYMORE.

Here's the weird thing about this phrase: I'm sure it started out as a sincere way to introduce oneself on...say...dating service videos. And then it was overused to the point that people started saying it as a joke. Oh, and what a funny joke it was for people to introduce themselves that way at work and school and church and such. Har har har. And then the joke got less funny over the years as people continued to introduce themselves that way at work and school and church and such. Har har. And now it's decidedly UNfunny when people introduce themselves this way at work and school and church and such, but we feel obligated to give out at least one "Har".

No more. Let's do away with that final "Har".

If you are one of those hundreds of people that STILL thinks this is a clever way to introduce yourself, let me enlighten you. IT'S NOT. You might as well stand up and say, "My name is ______, and I like being unoriginal." (Ironically enough, it would be more original for you to say you like being unoriginal, but whatever.) And, if you are one of those hundreds of people that STILL laughs when someone introduces himself with the beach phrase, I beg you to stop encouraging this.

I submit that the next time someone tries to get a laugh by using this phrase, we all choose to stay completely silent. No laughter. If you can make a cricket chirping noise, do so. Feel free to glare at the person who uses the stale phrase. Make him feel so embarrassed that he will never say it or laugh at it ever again.

I know it sounds harsh, but it must be done.

Go forth, my people. Grab your literary pitchforks and slay the ogre that is "I like long walks on the beach"!

ERG!!!

2010-10-20T08:32:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, I was lucky enough to be able to take the GRE. Ah, there's nothing like spending a gorgeous fall day trapped inside a small, dark testing center taking a mind-taxing test for four hours.

Actually, the test itself wasn't TOO bad. Except for the math part. So help me, I will never be able to figure out how to find the area of one shape circumscribed about another shape.

URG. I just about have an aneurysm when I look at those problems.

Anyway, the worst part of the whole test was actually the hoops I had to jump through BEFORE the test started. They don't allow you to have food or water in there, and they monitor how many breaks you take. They also literally make you turn your pockets inside out before you go in. I understand the principles behind this, but it's sad to me that we have gotten to this point as a society. We can't just treat people like adults. We have to treat everyone like disobedient children, because there are too many dirty, rotten cheaters.

Oh! But that wasn't the worst part. The test itself started with a tutorial about the computer. Literally, the first part of the tutorial said, "This is a mouse. This is how you use the mouse. Practice clicking the mouse." It then proceeded to teach you about all sorts of *difficult* skills like scrolling and other such complex computer functions.

What the what?

Let's think about this for a minute. The GRE is designed to assess the competency level of people who are getting ready to attend grad school. So, here I am, ready to be tested on whether or not I know the antonym of words like cosset and misanthropic, and whether or not I can solve 48 math questions in 45 minutes. Somehow, these skills are supposed to inform admissions officials about my ability to perform well in school. But the test-makers are assuming that there's a possibility that I won't know how to operate a mouse. AND THIS IS ACCEPTABLE??!

Call me crazy, but I think it's a lot more important for a potential grad school student to know how to perform basic computer functions, than it is for a potential grad school student to know what pulchritudinous means. (Frankly, if anyone ever uses that word in my presence, I will punch him in the face. "IT MEANS BEAUTIFUL!! JUST SAY BEAUTIFUL!!") If you don't know how to click a mouse, you are going to have a hard time anywhere, frankly.

This is just one more thing that bothers me about the whole world of academics. We are all tested on skills that aren't entirely applicable in real world situations, while USEFUL skills are neglected. I don't care if you can quote all of the words in the dictionary or do wonders with imaginary numbers. If you can't figure out how to navigate around a computer or carry on a conversation with human beings, you have some work to do.

Common sense, my dears. It's worth a lot more than that GRE. Or, it should be worth more, anyway.

Well, at least that part of my grad school prep is out of the way! Now it's on to other things. I'm on my way to Chicago this weekend to check out Columbia College, so I hope that all goes well.

And when I say "I hope that all goes well", I really mean, "I hope I don't get raped". (Thanks, Dad, for giving me a complex by telling me about the muggings that happen in Chicago. I love you.)

Wish me luck, my dears! And if I don't make it back, carry on the Hermit blogging without me.

Love you, mean it.

Jules

Eureka!

2010-09-29T10:19:00.000-07:00

I love small town people.

When I say that, I actually mean people who live in small towns...as opposed to town people who are small. (Though I'm sure the small people are just as love-able.)

Why do I love the citizens of small towns? They're so gosh-darn easy going. That is why I want to take some time today to commend Eureka for its complete and total awesomeness.

We took a large group of people to Eureka last week to do some filming for Demon Chicken (premiering Dec. 9 in Pleasant Grove, peeps). Now, most people in "normal" cities would have a hernia if a drove of college-aged kids showed up in full make up to film a low budget movie, but not the good people of Eureka. No sir. They were excited about letting us use their town. Like, wanted to take pictures with us, excited. Like, wanted to help film, excited.

I'd especially like to take a moment to give a shout out to two very special Eurekans.

To Billy, the nice elderly gentleman who let us film in his buildings, you totally rock. And I think your idea of making a "topless bar" out of your roofless building is fantastic. Perhaps a little inappropriate and too progressive for a sleepy town, but fantastic nonetheless.

And to Craig, you might be the coolest sheriff I've ever met. Everyone, I want you to picture this in your head: Imagine that you are a sheriff. Yes, you. You are driving down the road in your sheriffy car, when you see some people running around dressed as zombies. "Huh," you think. "That's strange." Then you look across the street and see a girl (that would be me, Jules) dressed in nothing but a towel, being airbrushed blue. Now, you might be tempted to take some sort of disciplinary action against these hooligans, right? Well, not Craig! He drove his truck right up to me and said, "Hey. This looked like fun, so I thought I'd come over and see what you're doing."

Here's to you, Craig. And Billy. And Eureka.

Cheers.

Public Service Announcement #2

2010-09-17T09:16:00.000-07:00

Good job with refraining from using "git er done", my minions. Statistics show* that "git er done" usage is down by 36%. (Of course, it just went up since I used it twice. Blast.)

Even though we've cut back on one annoying phrase, though, there are many more out there. We've got work to do.

*Inspiring music begins to play in the background. You may all turn on the Braveheart soundtrack now.*

The fight may be long. The fight may be hard. There may be days when we feel like we are going to be overrun by the vast amount of people who don't know how speak correctly. BUT WE WILL NOT GIVE UP! We will not falter! Together we will show the world that they can continue to speak like idiots, but they can never make us speak like idiots!

*Music reaches a climactic point, and Jules raises her sword into the air.*

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT NUMBER 2!!!!!

*Cheers fill the air.*

Ahem.

All right, here's the phrase we need to boycott this week:

"I could care less."

Example: "I don't want to hear your opinion. I could care less about what you think."

Hmmm. Think about it. If you COULD care less about what I think, why don't you go ahead and care less? What you mean to say is, "I COULDN'T care less about what you think."

There you go.

Go forth, my friends. Rid the world of "could care less".

I'm going to go off and help Scotland win its freedom.

(For the "Sons of Scotland" speech, skip to 4:28.)

Oh, Braveheart. I love you.

*All statistics are made up on the spot by me.

Great Googly Moogly

2010-09-09T19:14:00.000-07:00

Dear Computer Users Everywhere,

Before you decide to venture on to the interweb, please be sure that you understand the difference between the URL address bar (the place where you type in web addresses) and Google (a search engine). Believe it or not, there are some web sites that are missed by Google's all-seeing eye.

(I was going to make some nerdy comment about how even the all-seeing eye of Sauron missed Frodo Baggins, but I'm way too cool to even know about such things. *Jules has shifty eyes as she pushes her glasses further up on the bridge of her nose.*)

Ahem.

Anyway, friends, please take my advice and learn how to GO to a website instead of SEARCH for it. And, if you can't learn the difference, please don't call customer service and get frustrated when you can't find a website.

Much love,

Jules

You Must Be At Least This Tall To Ride This Ride

2010-09-06T19:19:00.000-07:00

MEN OF THE WORLD:

Do you lack ambition? Did you not eat your vegetables when you were children?

WHY ARE YOU SO SHORT?!

I'm 5' 9 1/2". I'm not a freak of nature or anything. It should be possible for you to be taller than I am. And it would be preferable if you could still be taller than me when I'm wearing 3 inch high heels.

That's all, really.

I. Am. Job.

2010-09-04T07:06:00.000-07:00

Guess what, friends? I officially have a job again! *The world lets out a collective sigh of relief.* If someone with a bachelor's degree in music can find a job in this poor economy, surely anything can be accomplished.

So let's cure cancer now, mmkay? It can' be that hard, right?

Right.

Save the babies!

2010-08-31T08:34:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, I got a call from a local blood donation center, asking if I would come donate. I'm all for being a blood donor, because I'm super charitable like that. (Actually, I do it for the cookies. I just love free cookies.)

Anyway, I told the lady over the phone that I would be happy to come in and donate. And then she said, "That's wonderful! By the way, did you know that you are a baby donor?"

"...Wha?"

"I just thought you might like to know that we give your blood to babies!"

"...Cool."

And that's how my addiction started. I mean, how can I say no to the babies? THE BABIES! Now I give platelets, though, so I can go every couple of weeks. Is it weird that I find that type of stuff enjoyable? I get to go sit there for two hours and watch a movie or read a book, while still feeling like I'm contributing to society. And then I get cookies. SCORE.

This recent time wasn't quite that enjoyable, though. Due to a series of unfortunate events, they had to stick me in both arms, and I look a bit like a druggie now. At least they were kind enough to coordinate (ish) my bandages with my shirt.

My arms hurt.

An Urgent Plea

2010-08-25T23:50:00.001-07:00

Dear ABC,

Please release all of the Whose Line Is It Anyway? episodes for purchase. Pretty please? I will buy them all. Every single one.

Thank you for your consideration.

Waffle Day!

2010-08-24T20:37:00.000-07:00

Today was National Waffle Day. I hope you all planned accordingly.

If you forgot to make waffles, I have lots of orange waffle batter and buttermilk syrup left-over. Feel free to stop by and I will make you some.

Please. I have no job, and waffle-making is a lovely way to spend one's time.

Was That Necessary?

2010-08-22T12:57:00.000-07:00

I was just driving down the road after church, listening to Mormon Tabernacle Choir music, and minding my own business. All of a sudden, the guy in front of me stepped on his brakes. I looked around him to see if there was something in the road or something, but no. Obviously, he was tapping on his brakes because he thought I was riding his bumper. I thought, "Oh. I didn't even realize I was following closely. How fast am I going?" The speed limit. So, I continued to go the speed limit. Sure, I was a little close to the guy in front of me, but whatever. If you're driving slowly, you should be prepared to be followed closely by those who would like to go the speed limit...or faster.

Well, anyway, the time came for me to turn off the road, so I pulled into the turning lane. Much to my confusion, the dude in front of me stuck his hand out the window to give me a nice, friendly, flipping off gesture.

That was a little dramatic.

Did I mention that the guy was wearing "church clothes"?

I hope his lesson today was on being Christlike.

Public Service Announcement

2010-08-21T13:26:00.000-07:00

Is it okay if we abolish, or at least boycott a few things? I realize there are so many things in this world that should be done away with, but world hunger is a little too hard to tackle at this exact moment. So, I'm going to start a little smaller.

For this week, I want us to make the world a better place by avoiding the usage of the following phrase:

"Git er done."

Yes, I know it's going to be difficult, but if we all make a pact to stop using the phrase in any shape or form, I know we can get one step closer to world peace. Or, at least the world will be a slightly less annoying place for me.

Thank you for your cooperation.

Those Are My Superhero Tights. I Fight Crime In Them.

2010-08-17T07:57:00.000-07:00

My little brother is an aspiring film director. I am an aspiring "help my little brother become a film director" person. So, when he needs somebody to help him brainstorm ideas, I am more than happy to help.

Usually, my one big critique is that there aren't enough women in his movies. Like, we're talking zero main female roles. So I'm usually saying, "Hey, can a girl play that part?" "You could just have a girl do that." "Girl, girl, girl, girl."

It's only natural that this would come back to bite me. And that is how I found myself trying on a costume for a part in his latest independent film.

Blast.

And, as I was trying on this costume, I remembered, once again, that my summer Bluebell goal has given me some beautiful love handles. (They're sort of like a trophy, in a way. Yes, friends! I bear the mark of one who has taken the Bluebell challenge!)

Naturally, upon noticing these badges of honor, I did what any self-respecting woman would do. I decided to order some Spanx.

Now, I have never ordered Spanx, so I'm not really savvy about which particular product would be best to hide the Bluebell love. And, furthermore, since I'm pretty tall, I don't fit in any of their little size charts. So I decided to call customer service and have a nice "girl talk" with one of the employees there.

Imagine my surprise when Richard answered the phone.

I automatically felt so awkward. I don't want to be discussing slimming underwear with some guy. I don't know why it makes that big of a difference, but it does! Somehow it's okay to ask a girl which product she would recommend to suck in your ghetto booty, but I don't want to discuss panty lines and other such things with a dude.

And, frankly, I don't know why a guy would want to be working at a place that has a collection called "Bra-llelujah!"(I realize that a guy invented the bra, but still.) Look what the economy has done to us poor people. Guys are working at Spanx, I'm not working at all. It's just a cruel, cruel world.

Nevertheless, Richard was helpful, and managed to steer clear of that dreaded panty word. (I hate that word.) So, thanks to you, Richard. I hope you find a job at a sports hardware store soon.

(And, for those of you who don't recognize the title of this post, you need to hop over here and watch "Handsome Men's Club." There is some swearing involved, just so you know. Swearing aside, though, it's one of the funniest clips I've seen in awhile. Cheers.)

You've Failed Me For The Last Time!

2010-08-11T08:10:00.000-07:00

I have officially been back in Utah now for over a week. My older brother got married on Saturday, so Grama Sue and I made the drive together to be here for the wedding. And I just have to say that my grandma is the best driving partner ever. Not only are we both fast drivers, but we also have excellent taste in music. So, speedy driving plus Styx music equals fun.

However, faulty Google Maps plus running wedding errands does NOT equal fun.

For those of you who have never driven in Utah, let me explain the address system to you. We have this handy dandy grid system that can be quite useful for finding addresses. Most addresses here are like this: 555 South 555 West. (I hope that's not a real address.) Anyway, if you need to find it, you just drive south until you hit 555, and then west until you hit 555. Pretty simple.

Unless, of course, some HoodyHoo decides to get all "creative" and name a street after something else.

"Hey! This sensible grid system is so boring. I'm going to name my street after something cool like...like...a bear or something. Yeah! Bear Lane! I'm sooooo creative."

And then some poor soul is stuck trying to find a house on Bear Lane, when she has no idea where Bear Lane is BECAUSE IT ISN'T PART OF THE GRID SYSTEM!!!

*Jules goes into a rage.*

*Jules calms down.*

You're probably thinking, "Jules, that's what Google Maps is for." Ah, my friends, I too once believed in the power of Google Maps. In fact, I trusted in Google Maps just the other day, as I was searching for a place called Prosperity road. But, after blindly following truly horrible directions and having to spend 45 minutes backtracking, I realized that my trust was wasted.

Darn you, Google! You have failed me for the last time. I'm going over to MapQuest.

And Prosperity Road? You suck. STICK TO THE GRID SYSTEM!!!

Thar She Blows

2010-07-21T16:12:00.000-07:00

We all have our little fears, right? Some people are afraid of heights. Some people are afraid of clowns. I think it's safe to say that we're all just a little afraid of Richard Simmons.

Eek.

These fears are perfectly normal.

Then there are fears that are completely unjustified. For example, I'm terrified of dying in a submarine. Why? I have no idea. It's not like I come in contact with submarines on a daily basis. In fact, I'm pretty sure the only way I'm going to die in a submarine is if some freak accident happens on the Finding Nemo ride at Disneyland. And then I'll get my name added to that super cool Snopes page about Disneyland deaths!

Stop rolling your eyes at me. It could happen.

Anyway, thanks to MSNBC, I now have another irrational fear to add to the list:

Death by whale. (Alright, technically the couple didn't get killed by the whale, but LOOK AT THAT THING!!)

How does one prepare for that? Is there some sort of Captain Ahab-inspired class on what to do if a whale jumps at you? Is there an insurance policy in the event of whale damage? Why am I even worrying about these things?!

I guess my dreams of marrying a wealthy yacht-owner have officially been killed.

Damn you, MSNBC. Damn you. *Jules shakes the fist of anger*

A New Career Choice

2010-07-20T21:38:00.000-07:00

So, for awhile now, one of my goals has been to become a better goal-setter. But, seeing as how I'm not a good goal-setter, I didn't accomplish that goal.

UNTIL NOW!!

About a month ago, I decided to set a very important and challenging goal for myself: Try every flavor of Bluebell (that Walmart carries).

Obviously, I have my priorities all figured out.

Thanks to the help of my amazingly cool grandma, I'm getting close to accomplishing this crucial goal. (I'm also getting close to accomplishing my goal of becoming diabetic before the age of thirty, but that's a different matter.) You can all be very impressed.

I think I'm going to have to start a new career as a Bluebell smuggler. Maybe I'll bring some back to Utah, and if y'all are really nice to me, you can have a bite of it.

And then the Bluebell withdrawals will commence.

The Girl I Mean To Be

2010-07-17T18:58:00.000-07:00

So, I'm sure I've talked about this before, but I always say that some people need to hire a "No" Girl (or Guy)--someone who says "No" to really bad ideas. This is especially true for a lot of people in Hollywood. (I'm talking to you, George Lucas.) I would gladly be the "No" Girl.

I would also like to be the "That's Enough" Girl for some other people. Specifically? Jerry Bruckheimer. I think he knows how to produce some very entertaining movies. But he doesn't know where to stop, and this is why we get to endure Pirates of the Caribbean 2 and 3. I should have been there to say, "That's enough, Jerry," when the first Pirates ended. *Sigh* Where was I?

Well, I saw Sorcerer's Apprentice on Saturday, and it was fun. A good, entertaining popcorn movie. But, we all know that Jerry isn't going to leave it at that. Oh, no. He's going to trample it into the ground with a sequel, if not more. So, I want all of us to work together to stop this from happening. On the count of three, we're going to shout out the magic words. 1, 2, 3. "THAT'S ENOUGH, JERRY!"

Good.

While we're on this subject, I would also like to be the "Yes" Girl for Christopher Nolan. Have you seen Inception yet? Stop what you're doing (reading this blog) and run to the nearest movie theater. And make sure you say, "Yes, Christopher. YES!"

GOOOOOOAAAAL!!!

2010-07-11T16:20:00.000-07:00

Is it just me, or does soccer seem to have a high number of good-looking players?

I mean, more so than any other sport?

I'm just saying.

I don't understand why people say soccer is boring to watch. So what if during a 120 minute long game, only 1 goal is scored? (Congrats, Spain.) LOOK AT THE EYE CANDY, PEOPLE!

I'm a fan. *Jules gives her stamp of approval.*

Ronaldo. *Growl*

Taking a Stand.

2010-07-10T20:08:00.000-07:00

Dear Movie-Makers,

Can we stop with the 3-D trend? Please?

I realize that it gives you an excuse to charge more for movie tickets.
I realize that it gives you a way to take a mediocre script and make it a little more bearable to watch.

But, let's be honest. I'm not fooled by the cute little flying character that jumps out at me, (Captain EO, anyone?) or the exploding things that jump out at me. (Okay, that's a lie. I'll be entertained and fooled for the first ten minutes. But that's it!)

I don't need to see Shrek coming out of the screen. I don't need to see Step Up in 3D. (I don't need to see it, period, but that's beside the point.) I don't need to see SORORITY GIRLS IN 3D!!! GAH!

I'd say more, but I'll let my buddy Roger say it better.

Sincerely,
Me

P.S. If this 3D trend continues, I will no longer put those 3D glasses back in the bin. SO HELP ME! Take THAT!

Haikus on a Refrigerator

2010-07-08T01:20:00.000-07:00

There's nothing like going on a vacation and neglecting all responsibilities.

And then you come back from the vacation, and you still neglect as many responsibilities as you can, just for good measure.

I'm still in partial neglecting mode, just for your information. And, since one of the rules of partial neglecting mode is that you can't strain your brain too much, I'm not going to write a new post. I'm going to pick one from the draft folder!

*Half-hearted applause from a canned audience.*

(Come on, y'all. Have some respect for the draft folder.)
(And, yes, I've given in to the power of the "y'all". Deal with it.)

Anyway, here's a draft that was started back in the good old days, when Taren and I spent that year and a half in the basement. Life in the basement was filled with all sorts of creative adventures--just ask Taren or me to sing our song entitled "Spiritual Spectacles", and you'll see how gosh-darn creative we are. (You'll also never want to hear the song again, but that's beside the point.)

Well, I thought it would be a shame to let some of our creativity to just die in the basement. (Ashes to ashes, basement to basement. What?) So, here is the collection of our Refrigerator Haikus, crafted ever so brilliantly using Movie Quote Magnets.

(Aren't you excited? I can tell by the way your eyes glazed over just now.)

Without further delay, here are the (sort of) haikus. (Feel free to discuss the deep, hidden meaning of these haikus with your intellectual friends. Taren and I will be having a poetry reading very soon [never], and we will have an open discussion panel where we will discuss our thought processes during the composition process. Doughnuts will [not] be provided.)

Presented in no particular order.

I could have been here.

I'm not this conversation.

I am in the truth.

(And what IS truth? It's just so deep!)

You've gotten stupid.

I'm mad as a mission from God.

Together we're nice.

(Can you decode the secret message in this haiku?)

In my pajamas

I am not an animal.

That little dog is.

(And what does the little dog represent? Is there a little dog in each of us?)

A real pretty mouth.

I hear you talking to me.

Go ahead and stop.

(Seriously. Stop.)

Show me what it means--

I once shot a boy's best friend.

I'm ready for you.

(What does it mean?! The sheer brilliance of this poetry is ASTOUNDING!)

He can't refuse you,

and I picked on an angel,

so I got no place.

(You can just sense the inner struggle the author was going through when she so skillfully rearranged those refrigerator magnets. Truly inspiring.)

Spam, anyone?

2010-06-18T18:34:00.001-07:00

Will someone please tell me what the spammers are getting when they leave comments on blogs? I am quite curious, because I just don't understand why various users leave comments that say helpful things like, "Use a book as a bee does flowers," followed by an ominous-looking link. (It looks like this, in link form: .......................) Normally I would gladly click on the link, just to find out what in the world that comment even means. (Use a book as a bee does flowers? I get what they're trying to say, but it just isn't working for me.) But, in this case, I'm too afraid that I'll stumble upon something that might burn my retinas. Old men doing straddle stretches in speedos, anyone?

Even better are the comments with nothing but Asian characters and that same ominous-looking link. Like anyone's going to be fooled with your trickery, Asian Spammer. (What would you call an Asian Spammer, anyway? A Spamming Asian? A Spasian?) It's not like I'm going to see your comment and say, "Ooh! It must be my long lost friend from Japan or Korea or China or whatever language that is. I should check in with them!"

Nope. Not fooled.

So remember, everyone: Use Spam as a person would use meat. ...........................

Peace out, my dears. I'm off to Disneyworld, and then the beach. SUCKAS!! Mwahahahahaha! *During her fit of evil laughing, Jules chokes and coughs. She gets her comeuppance.*

What Master's Would Best Complement My BS?

2010-06-17T15:59:00.000-07:00

I've decided lately that I love too many things, and some of these things that I love aren't necessarily helpful in the real world.

And, no, I'm not talking about Bluebell (for once). Bluebell is on the list of things that are just downright dangerous for me.

I'm talking about my hobbies and interests. Like...the vast collection of movie quotes that is sealed inside my brain. This is helpful in Scene It, perhaps, but not so useful in real-world application. I'm pretty sure employers don't regularly say, "Please list as many movie quotes as possible from memory." (They should start doing that.)

Even my music skills aren't very helpful in the real world. "Real world", in this case, means "money-paying world". On a scale from 1 to Helpful, I'll rate my music skills at a 3. (And, yes, I realize that rating system makes no sense.)

Hence, my present dilemma. I'm searching for Master's programs, and I keep getting attracted to programs that are COMPLETELY impractical, but I see them and my CrEaTiVe side says, "Hot diggity!" And then my timid, sensible side says, "BAD JULES! DOWN, GIRL!" So, Miss CrEaTiVe looks at another one and says, "Yes yes yes yes." And Miss KillJoy says, "Nuh uh."

*Heavy sigh*

Part of me would love to get something a little more on the practical side, seeing as how my undergrad degree is in music, but I'm not really qualified for anything...seeing as how my undergrad degree is in music. See the problem? And I really detest the idea of getting a master's in education. Seriously. My nose crinkles up at the very thought of such a horrific experience.

Any grad school oficionados have advice for me? I don't even know where to get started. I guess I should take that darn GRE, but most of the programs in the musical field don't require GREs. (By the way, I think they should change the acronym so it spells ERG instead. I think that would be more fitting for such a test:
Person 1: "I've gotta take the ERG. ERG!"
Person 2: "I heard you the first time. You didn't have to repeat yourself."
Person 1: "The second time I said it I was using it as a curse word."
Person 2: "Ah.")

HELP!

Are any of you still reading this? Anyone?

*Crickets Chirp*

The secret ingredient in Bluebell is love, after all.

2010-06-09T16:33:00.000-07:00

There comes a time in every girl's life when she must decide--

Do I want to get rid of my love handles, or do I want more Bluebell?

I think you can probably guess my choice.

Anyone for some Homemade Vanilla with Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough? Yeah? Well, get your own!

NOM NOM.

Armpit of America

2010-06-06T12:41:00.000-07:00

Dear Albuquerque,

For a long time now, I have not been kind to you. Behind your back, I often refer to you as "The Armpit of America". You may be wondering what you have done to cause me to dislike you so much. Well, I don't like to bring up old wounds, but do you remember that one time when I spent my New Year's Eve in one of your roach motels and two people were murdered there? Yeah, that didn't sit so well with me.

But, let's not dwell on the past. The reason I'm writing to you is because I want to apologize for all of the mean things I've said. To my great surprise, I enjoyed the time I spent with you this trip. Keep it up, Albuquerque.

Sincerely,

Julianna

P.S. The new recipient of the Armpit of America award is Vaughn, New Mexico.
P.P.S. I still think we should give New Mexico back to Old Mexico.

Clarification

2010-05-26T08:46:00.000-07:00

I feel like my last post sounded too much like a tiny pity party. And, as much as I love parties of any variety, I just barely ran out of tear-shaped confetti and double fudge brownie ice cream, so I guess I should just elaborate on the no job situation and nip this particular party in the bud.

I wish I could say that the reason they aren't hiring me back next year is because I did something CRAZY. That way, I would go out with a bang as opposed to a fizzle. (Well, we still have graduation on Friday. I guess I could do something crazy there.....) In all actuality, it's purely based on a lack of funds. In fact, the school head master was all misty-eyed when he told me they couldn't employ me. "My daughter just loves you and talks about you all the time."

Whoohoo!! As long as the kids love me, I'm good with that. And now I can have the excuse to go find a job that actually pays my bills. Anyone have some suggestions? I hear that bums with street signs do pretty well for themselves....

Back to Square One

2010-05-25T08:46:00.000-07:00

Update on yesterday:

The day did not get better. Guess who doesn't have a job next year? *Jules jumps up and down, frantically waving her hand in the air and yelling, "Ooh! Me! Pick me!*

Ah well. Back to job hunting, my friends.

Julianna and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

2010-05-24T09:37:00.000-07:00

It's May 24th.

It's snowing.

Now, I'm not talking about nice little snow flurries. I'm talking about tree branch-breaking, shovel-your-driveway-multiple-times-ing, blizzarding snow.

Once again, Julianna is disgruntled.

And it's only 10:30 am and I've already had an emotional breakdown.

I think I'll move to Australia.

On the bright side, I did make it to the gym. Go team.

Also, I loved Lost last night, and like any other true Lost fan, I'm going to post about it soon. Deal with it.

I hope your Monday is shaping up to be better than mine.

I'll let you know when I start my photography business.

2010-05-22T14:02:00.000-07:00

I like to call this particular piece "Moving Out of the Basement Apartment".

I feel that it accurately captures the angst that comes with moving. You can almost hear the model in the photo (who is obviously a natural, by the way) saying, "Why don't I just light a match and start over...in the forest somewhere?"

It's a modern-day version of The Scream, really.

Seriously, though. This moving thing is annoying.

Let's find something a little more in my price range...like the 5 to 10 dollar price range.

2010-05-17T10:05:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time I signed up for the "Shop It To Me" mailing list, and now I always get emails from them about the fantastic sales going on with various brands. It's a nice idea, but I have yet to buy anything, mainly because the showcased sales are usually on items like this.

Now, call me crazy, but it seems that anyone who is willing to spend 2,500 dollars on a deerskin jacket is not the type of person who is going to be signing up for EMAILED DISCOUNTS!

The other day there was a lace metallic shawl on sale for 800 dollars, discounted from 1,500 dollars. Oooh, golly! That's the perfect item for me! $1500 was just too big of a price tag, but $800 is perfectly reasonable.

Come on, Shop It To Me. If I'm looking for a clothing sale, chances are that I don't have $1000 to spend.

I blame the parents.

2010-05-16T08:39:00.000-07:00

In the past week, I have very nearly killed the following animals with my car:

Two suicidal cats who darted in front of my car at three in the morning.

One wounded quail, limping ever-so-slowly across the road.

A bunch of ducklings.

I felt the worst about the ducklings. What is it about ducklings? I could run over a different type of animal and not feel TOO bad, but running over a whole family of ducklings ranks right up there with punching puppies--nearly unforgivable!

I'm still haunted by the image of their little wings flapping in panic as they tried to escape my car. Luckily, they got away, but I very nearly became a murderer.

Seriously, ducklings, didn't your mother ever teach you to not play in the road?

Some of Julianna's Thoughts While Sitting in a Sauna

2010-05-07T08:16:00.000-07:00

Eeew. There is an old man out there wearing a Speedo. Sir, it's time to trade in your tiny suit for something a little more modest. Please. Someone should really put an age limit on Speedos. Like, only Olympians between the ages of 16 and 30 can wear them. I'm pretty sure that would cut down on most dry-heaving that occurs at public swimming pools.

And don't get me started on bikinis.

Speaking of which, a bikini-clad woman just came in to the sauna with her significant other. How do I know that these two are romantically involved? Well, first off, I just have a gift for reading people. Secondly, they are cuddling and cooing. *Shudder* Is that romantic? To come into a sauna and sweat all over each other? I don't think so, but that's just me. Call me crazy, but I think that some moments are not meant to be shared with the love of your life.

But, what do I know? I'm one of those crazy young single adults.

Uh oh. The Speedo Man is coming into the sauna. No, Speedo Man! Don't come in! Oh great. Speedo Man is sitting directly across from me. OH NO! Speedo Man is doing some very inappropriate stretching moves. Stop, Speedo Man! STOP! STOP WITH THE STRADDLE STRETCH!!! ARGH!! My retinas!!

*Julianna rushes out of the sauna, nursing her wounded eyes.*

Watch a movie, feel the burn.

2010-05-06T20:47:00.001-07:00

"I will not run. Why punish my legs for something my mouth did?"

--Source Unknown for the Moment

(I couldn't remember who said this quote, so I decided to Google it. Note to self: Never Google anything containing the word "punish". Anyway, we'll just leave that quote author-less for now.)

I am not a runner. Unless something scary (like a bear or Tree Man) is chasing me, I just don't see the point of running. This has always been my philosophy. That is, until the glorious day when I discovered the cardio cinema at the gym!

It's amazing how quickly a movie can change my attitude. Running on a normal treadmill is like death and a baby. But, put that treadmill in a theater room and I'll run for miles, as happy as a hamster. (Get it? Hamster...because hamsters run on their little wheels for hours? What a brilliant metaphor. The writing in this post is just top-notch. You should be glad you're reading this.)

However, my hamster-like happiness has faded lately because it seems like Gold's Gym workers have terrible taste in movies. I have seen Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull multiple times in that cardio cinema, unfortunately. I've seen The Proposal more times than I care to count, and I've even been fortunate enough enough to see parts of Step Up 2 and G Force. (Speaking of hamsters....)

But, the most annoying movie as of late is definitely We Are Marshall. I've seen the first half of that movie probably four times in the last month. Ugh. First of all, I get sick of inspirational sports movies really quickly. (I blame this on the fact that I was way overexposed to Remember the Titans during my high school years. "We need to have an inspirational assembly for all of the high school kids, so we're going to watch Remember the Titans." "We need an inspirational activity for the drama students, so we're going to watch Remember the Titans." "We need an inspirational activity for the floral arranging class. Remember the Titans it is!") Yes, I'm so happy that football is such a magical tool that brings us all together, but I don't want to watch a movie about it. Especially if Matthew Mcconaughey is playing the annoying head coach. And especially if I'm trying to run.

Maybe I should just imagine that I'm running away from that movie....

And Why Can't References to the Holocaust Be Funny?

2010-05-04T00:17:00.000-07:00

Remember my pickiness about bananas? Well, my dear father (Hi Dad!) is very tolerant of my banana issues. In fact, even though I don't live at my parents' house, my dad still buys green bananas. On Sunday, he commented on the fact that I hadn't been around to eat the bananas.

Dad: See? I buy them green and nobody eats them.

Jules: I'm sorry! The window of opportunity is just too short.

Dad: I just need to get you a banana ripening chamber.

Jules: There's an idea.

Dad: You know how the banana gas chamber works, don't you?

Jules: Yes. The bananas are told to tie their shoes together so they'll get them back after their shower. But they don't get their shoes back.

Get it? Anyone?

*Crickets chirp*

Later conversation with Taren:

Taren: Yeah, I don't think anyone is going to think that's funny. The Holocaust isn't exactly a funny topic.

Jules: But THIS is funny! Bananas don't even WEAR shoes!

Oh, bananas with shoes. *Chuckle*

I Guess I'll Be Ordering the Big Mac

2010-05-01T19:52:00.000-07:00

I saw a billboard the other day for a restaurant. I don't remember which. Ruby River? Ruby Tuesday's? Something involving rubies. Or not. Apparently this is another advertising fail, since I can't even remember the name of the restaurant. Ah well. I'm over it.

Anyway, the billboard showed a picture of a smiling couple next to the words, "Because she said yes."

How sweet. If she says yes to the proposal, she gets steak. If the answer is no, he's taking her straight to McDonald's.

Frankly, I think McDonald's is missing out on a great opportunity for advertising. Right after the Ruby *mumble something unintelligible* restaurant ad, there should be a billboard with a pic of a sad couple and the words, "Because she said no--McDonald's."

I would remember that ad. Most definitely.

An Angry Spring Haiku

2010-04-30T08:36:00.000-07:00

There's snow on the ground.

It's April the THIRTIETH!

Jules is disgruntled.

I have been disgruntled too many times this week, what with a Castle re-run, a Lost re-run, and now some spring snow.

My life is SOOOO hard. All of those suffering children in Africa have no idea what it's like to be me. It's just too much! *Jules bursts into tears and throws a temper tantrum.*

Whatever. I'm getting cheese fries. (Anyone catch the hidden movie quote in this entry? Anyone? Taren?)

You need a new ad campaign.

2010-04-28T09:43:00.000-07:00

The other day I was watching something on Hulu, and a commercial came on that immediately got my attention, because it was asking all kinds of "What if?" questions.

"What if you went to grad school?" (Ooh! Grad school? I want to go to grad school!)

"What if you went to Prague?" (Ooh! Prague! I want to go to Prague!)

"What if you changed your mind and went to Montana instead?" (A few shots of horses running free through beautiful green fields. Now I want to go to Montana.)

"What if you met someone?" (A shot of a hunky cowboy-type person. Now I really want to go to Montana.)

"What if he gave you HPV? What if it turned into cervical cancer?"

Julianna's brain lets out a mental SCREECHING sound.

Wait a minute. Where did that come from? One minute we're running with the horses, and the next minute you try to turn it into some dramatic cervical cancer awareness ad.

I hate when commercials try to fool me. They drag me in with their pretty pictures, and the next minute they're trying to make me all weepy-eyed. It's not going to work on me! If I were the rebellious type, I would go out right now and get cervical cancer, just to spite whoever made this commercial. "Yeah, your commercial did nothing to prevent ME from getting cancer. I saw your commercial and now I'm on my deathbed. Take THAT!"

Yeah, that would show 'em.

If you really want to get people to avoid HPV like the plague, all you need to do is show a picture of Tree Man and say something like:

"HPV can lead to this:"

ARGH! I'll never touch anyone ever again!

Now THAT would be an effective commercial.

Since I'm on the subject of ineffective ad campaigns, does anyone remember this anti-Meth ad that was on several years ago? Oddly enough, that catchy tune makes Meth seem sort of appealing. (My brothers and I still sing the song to this day. "Ooh Meth. Ooh Meth!"

Yes, it was a legit commercial. Anti-drug fail.

Field Trip!

2010-04-27T15:24:00.000-07:00

The other day I was looking through some of my old journals, and I found a few entries that involved my dear roomie, Taren. My favorite one said this:

Wednesday March 15, 2000

"...Lately I've been hanging out with my friend Taren. She can be really funny, but when we get together we act really retarded. Maybe that's why I like to hang out with her. I like to be able to act goofy and just have fun."

You know, I might as well have written that yesterday, because it's just as true today as it was ten years ago.

We DO act really retarded when we get together.

And, on that note, we're going to take a field trip to my roommate's blog, where you can read what happens when we put our minds together. Hop on over to Free Flan, everyone, and make sure you stick together! Don't get lost. (Of course, if you do get lost, Free Flan is a good place to be. I'll warn you, however, that you might come out with new-found respect for Miley Cyrus and the Jonas Brothers.)

(A piece of art from some of Julianna and Taren's earliest collaborative work. The original is on display in Julianna's journal, and will no doubt sell for millions of dollars.)

And While I'm At It....

2010-04-23T15:56:00.000-07:00

Continuing on with my letters to drivers:

Dear People Who Drive Cadillac Escalades,

Whenever I see you, all I can think is, "That person has far more money than he has class." Seriously. You spent $62,000 to $85,000 on a glorified Suburban?

Whatever floats your boat, man.

Dear People Who Drive Brightly-Colored Volkswagen Beetles,

When I see you, all I can think is, "Whoever is driving that must have been a really cool and rich 17-year old girl...about 7 years ago."

My apologies if you're some 45-year-old dude. But, really, why are you driving that?

Now, granted, I drive a '96 Hyundai Elantra, but that's because I have no money. Maybe that's why my soul hurts a little when people with money buy blechy cars. (Yes, blechy is now a word.)

That's some false advertising on your car, buddy.

2010-04-22T18:18:00.000-07:00

Dear Slow Drivers Who Insist on Driving in the Fast Lane,

Why? Go be slow in the other lanes. Do you do this because you have this warped sense of responsibility that makes you feel that you must force everyone else to drive the speed limit? Well, bully for you for being a law-abiding citizen and everything, but get out of my way. If I want to push my little 4-cylinder car to its 85 mph maximum capacity, that's my own business. I don't appreciate your little attempt at vigilante justice.

"I will stay in this lane driving 65 mph, no matter what! Take that, you evil speeders!"

Ugh. I want to install a giant fist on the front of my car so I can punch you with it.

Oh. I also want to make sure I deliver a special message to the guy who was driving 60 mph in the fast lane yesterday, holding up a whole line of angry people (myself included). Sir, you have earned yourself a free punch in the face. You can claim your prize any time. And make sure you bring your car with you. Yes, the one you were driving yesterday. Yes, that would be the blue Mustang that had the word "Racing" written on the back.

You need a new car.

Best regards,

Jules

Save the Trees! Save the Trees!

2010-04-19T22:31:00.001-07:00

On Saturday I woke up to the soothing sound of trees being murdered outside my window. Yes, my landlord decided to chop down every tree in the backyard (except for the one tree I actually WANTED him to cut down--the one that constantly pokes its big branches into my face as I try to walk through the gate).

Obviously, this man hasn't seen Avatar, or he would know that when you cut down trees, it causes great pain to blue people.

Obviously, this man hasn't seen Pocahontas, or he would know that every rock and tree and creature has a life, has a spirit, has a name.

Obviously, this man hasn't seen Ferngully, or he would know that cutting down trees leads to Tim Curry escaping and singing a cheesy song about pollution. And, really, who wants that?

I told my dear roommate that we should have gotten up really early and chained ourselves to the trees in a bold attempt at rescuing nature, but that might have caused some awkward tension between us and the landlord. Plus, that would have required getting up early.

Really, though. Isn't it a bit sacrilegious to chop down all of your trees right before Arbor Day?

BLOG!

2010-04-11T15:35:00.000-07:00

I promised I would write about the Muse concert, and then I didn't. Once again, I have betrayed all 30 of my loyal followers.

I'm sure you have all been anxiously awaiting a new post from me. I'm just sure of it. I can see it now--all 30 of you hanging around your computer screen with blood-shot eyes, neglecting all of your responsibilities and yelling, "Blog, Jules. BLOG!!"

Well, friends, I'm back. Sorry it took so long for me to hear your cries. You see, my ears have been ringing all week, thanks to my Monday activities: going shooting with my dad and going to the concert. (For the record, I would definitely recommend ear plugs for both activities.)

All I have to say about the concert, really, is that it was amazing. I figure to give you a play-by-play would be incredibly boring--sort of like looking at pictures of someone else's cruise. "And this is where I was having the time of my life, while you were stuck at your dead-end job." Who wants that?

So, in short, if you have the chance to go to a Muse concert--take it. You won't regret it.

Nothing says "Happy Birthday" like the gift of a gun.

2010-04-04T21:39:00.000-07:00

Happy Easter, everyone! Easter is so confusing to me. You'd think it would be our biggest holiday, due to the fact that it celebrates Christ's resurrection, which seems to me to be the most important event ever. But, it seems like no one really knows what to do with it. Uh, I guess we'll dye some eggs and, uh, fill this basket up with green plastic grass and toys?

Sure. That's a good way to celebrate the Atonement. OH! Don't forget to throw in the chocolate bunny so we can celebrate the fertility gods at the same time.

Our traditions are cool.

Speaking of traditions, it's my birthday this week. (Did you notice my pitiful attempt at transitioning smoothly into my next topic? Oh, my high school English teachers should be ashamed.) The thing about my birthday is that it comes at an awkward time of year: APRIL 7.

(Did you all get that? I SAID APRIL 7TH. I just thought I should randomly throw that date out for no apparent reason....)

There just always seems to be so much going on around that time. So, usually I get to celebrate my birthday over a bunch of different days. Hooray! Today was what we'll call my first birthday of the week. And I got a gun.

Watch out, world. I now own a gun. Yes, the girl who couldn't hit a pumpkin with a shotgun now owns an automatic rifle. (In my defense, the pumpkin was flying through the air. And I'm a better shot now....)

Happy birthday to me! Second birthday is tomorrow--MUSE CONCERT!! I'll let you know how it goes, so you can vicariously enjoy what is sure to be a fantastic show.

Ella is the perfect cure.

2010-04-02T08:50:00.001-07:00

Whoever invented April Fool's Day deserves a big fat punch in the face from yours truly. In fact, I'm practicing my right hook, just in case I ever happen to run into the guy.

Call me crazy, but I don't find any joy in a day that celebrates people playing mean jokes on each other. And I REALLY don't appreciate having to go through an entire day of little children raising their hands in class, just to make some dumb comment and then laugh hysterically afterward, proudly yelling, "April Fool!" Yeah. That was old before it even started today.

Oh. And the lovely spawn of Satan in my class told me this week that he wanted to take a hammer and kill everyone. He is such a joy.

On a happier note, I've decided that Ella Fitzgerald is the perfect cure for a bad day. I bought this album today, and I highly recommend it. Go buy it. Now.

Is there a safe house for people who are in an abusive relationship with dessert items? Please leave the hotline number in your comment.

2010-03-29T21:45:00.001-07:00

Confession: I love food, more than I love some people. (More than I love a lot of people, actually.)

Of course, if you're reading this blog, the above statement doesn't apply to you. *Jules bats her eyelashes and smiles innocently.*

We all know that sometimes we love things that aren't good for us. Take Samson and Delilah, for example. Or Romeo and Juliet. Or Brad and Angelina.

But, though we know that these couples aren't exactly the best match for each other, where would we be without them? Huh? I mean, what would the tabloids write about if Brad and Angelina never got together and never adopted 26 children of various nationalities?! WHAT?!

My point is that a little dysfunction in a relationship isn't necessarily a bad thing. *shifty eyes* So, when I decide to completely give up on my calorie counting at 9:30 at night, I'm just trying to bring balance to the world. *shifty eyes*

Okay, who am I kidding? I'm a weakling! I can't count calories. I've only been doing this for a week, and I'm going crazy. Seriously. One hand is shoveling chocolate chips into my mouth while the other hand is scooping peanut butter out of the jar, all while I'm trying to figure out a way to teach my feet how to peel a banana. (Those monkeys have it so easy.)

Don't judge.

I will say this, though. I love that moment when I decide to totally give up. It's just so wonderful when I think, "That's it! I don't care anymore. I'm eating 17 cream cheese-filled cookies, and then I'm going to order pizza and swim in chocolate ice cream! MWHAHAHA."

And then I have a big food hangover the next morning and feel sad inside.

I'm in an abusive relationship and I want out. It's intervention time, people. It's time to pry my fingers off the chocolate bar. Please.

I want to call your parents, but I don't think my cell phone plan covers calls to HELL.

2010-03-23T14:22:00.000-07:00

"The soul is healed by being with children."

--Fyodor Dostoevsky

Now, I don't mean to disagree with the famous Russian author who brought as such classics as The Idiot and Crime and Punishment, but Fyodor was obviously not in my classes today. If he had been, his quote might be changed to:

"The soul is ripped to shreds by children."

Or something along those lines. Dah, Fyodor?

Okay, okay. Not all children have this effect. Most, in fact, are totally love-able. Take my preschoolers, for example. We get along splendidly. In fact, sometimes I think I should befriend more three and four year olds, simply because I have such a good rapport with them.

Fourth graders, on the other hand, make me break out in hives. And today, after one particularly charming punk told me he wanted to "slice my head off," I was quite sad that teachers are no longer allowed to paddle children. Quite sad, indeed.

I'm kidding, of course. (No I'm not. Not in the slightest, actually.)

If you'll excuse me, I'm going to try to patch my tattered soul back together. What does one use for that sort of activity? I'm thinking chocolate will be involved somehow....

Get Validated

2010-03-22T15:46:00.001-07:00

You owe it to yourself to watch this movie, particularly if you're having a bad day. Seriously.

I'd write more, but you have a video to watch. (I'll just say that I owe endless tribute to Jarom for showing me this video. You rock.)

Worst assignment ever.

2010-03-12T23:05:00.000-08:00

If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me the "Why aren't you married?" question, I would have...at least enough to go get me a burger and fries.

And, frankly, I could use a burger and fries right now.

So, if you've asked me this question, cough up that dollar!

Seriously.

...I'm waiting.

*Sigh* Fine. Since people are obviously being VERY stingy with the dollars that I have RIGHTFULLY EARNED, I'll tell you about the most recent people to ask me why I haven't found matrimonial bliss:

My sweet kindergartners.

"Why aren't you married?"

"I just haven't found the right guy yet."

"Well, you need to find him. You need to get married tomorrow!"

"I can't find a man by tomorrow, silly!"

"Well, in two weeks. In two weeks, I'm going to ask you, and you'd better be married!"

Alright, friends. I have two weeks to find me a husband. Anyone, anyone?

I think I'm going to fail my homework assignment.

Why did no one tell him this was a bad idea?

2010-03-10T10:34:00.000-08:00

Dear Andrew Lloyd Webber,

Really? You made a sequel to The Phantom of the Opera? A sequel in which the Phantom produces a successful show called "Phantasma" in Coney Island? A sequel in which Raoul is a drunken gambler and Christine's son Gustave is actually the illegitimate child of the Phantom? (Sorry if I just ruined the big surprise for you.)

(I know that it sounds like a premise for a Monty Python movie or something, but I am not making this up.)

Andy, Andy, Andy. Why was I not consulted before this happened? I feel like I could have somehow stopped this from happening.

Andrew Lloyd Webber: So, Jules, I've been thinking about creating a sequel to The Phantom of the Opera.

Me: No.

Andrew Lloyd Webber: But, it will be amazing! It's going to be called Love Never Dies and set in Coney Island, of all places!

Me: No.

Andrew Lloyd Webber: BUT!

Me: *Slapping Mr. Webber in the face.* Pull yourself together, man! NO!

Alas, I wasn't there to tell him this. Ah well.

One more thing I need to add to my list of "Stupid things I'm WAY too opinionated about."

2010-03-09T14:54:00.000-08:00

Normally, here at A Hermit's Ranting Tantrums, I try to stick to casual topics. Today, however, ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry to say that I have to delve into a more serious issue. I hope you will bear with me so that together we can keep others from suffering through one of the most terrible experiences the human body can endure.

I'm talking, of course, about squishy pickles.

Can anything be worse than expecting to bite into a crisp pickle, and instead discovering that your mouth is filled with a nasty, mushy, dill-tasting, caterpillar-ish thing?

I submit to you that nothing can be worse. (Okay. Genocide/Starvation/AIDS/Natural Disasters/The Common Cold MIGHT be worse. It's open to interpretation.)

Millions Hundreds A couple of people each year suffer through squishy pickles in silence. Or by letting out audible screams of "Gah! Bad pickle!" and spitting them into a trash can so they can eat a different pickle.

IS THERE NO MERCY?! This tragedy must stop.

I suggest that our first course of action is to boycott squishy pickles. BEHOLD! The first product to be put on the GAH! BAD PICKLE list:

Milwaukee's Midget Kosher Dill Pickles:

Though this may claim to be "Wisconsin's Hometown Favorite", don't be deceived! Either this is a bold-faced lie, or you should never trust the opinion of Wisconsinites. (Wisconsonians? Wisconsinese? Whatever.) This jar is just one big squishy pickle disaster after another. (Plus, it's not very politically correct, is it? Midget pickles. Tsk Tsk. Little People pickles is the appropriate term.) Don't give in to it.

Together we can end the hurting. We can stop the squishy pickle assault.

It's up to you.

Have a #2 Pencil Ready.

2010-03-08T22:58:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I forget that the average American is a complete and total idiot. Sure, I always realize that there are plenty of idiots out there--on the road, in the movie theater, in the Senate---but I still like to believe that most people are somewhat-intelligent.

And then I participate in standardized testing, and I am reminded that most of the people in our population are morons.

Why was I participating in standardized testing, you may be asking? Well, I sure didn't do it by choice. I scheduled an "appointment" to take a competency test for a census job, thinking that I would be able to just go in, take the timed test, and leave. *Chuckle* Oh, foolish Julianna.

Instead, I got to sit in a room with sixty other people, waiting for everyone to get paperwork filled out. Then finally, after an hour of waiting for people to figure out how to fill out simple forms, we all got to sit there as the test giver read the instructions of the test to us OUT LOUD.

UGH. Haven't we been going through this process since grade school? I THINK WE CAN HANDLE READING THE INSTRUCTIONS OURSELVES NOW.

Also? You don't need to explain to me how to fill in the bubbles on the answer sheet. We all get the concept.

Well, at least that's what I thought. Then you see the people who don't understand where to start or where they're supposed to write, and you understand why the powers-that-be feel that it's necessary for us to be treated like dummies.

Needless to say, I don't think I want to get that job. I'd rather not be treated like an idiot.

Goals, Shmoals

2010-03-07T14:26:00.000-08:00

I'm not much of a goal-setter, sadly enough. I blame my cynicism, actually. I don't get motivated by those "Go for it!" posters, or the "You can do it!" pep talks. And when people tell me that I need to make goals and write them down, I nod my head in agreement, while at the same time thinking, "Yeah, that's not happening."

Needless to say, I need an attitude adjustment.

The most recent example of how bad I am with goals:

For the past several weeks, I have had a goal of eating sweets only once a week. ONCE. (I know. That's sheer insanity, right?) Wanna know how many times I've accomplished this goal?

Zero. Not once.

Apparently, I don't do well with the whole, "Don't give up what you want most for what you want right now," thing. Especially when it comes to food. Here's a glimpse of the internal dialogue I have with myself:

"Don't eat that cookie."

"But, I want it."

"Well, remember your goal."

"What goal? I don't remember any goal." *Shifty eyes...if it's possible for internal voices to have shifty eyes.*

"Think about what you want most!"

"That cookie."

"Stop!"

"COOKIE!!"

*Munch munch munch*

Internal Voice of Reason: 0 points

Appetite: 657,002 points

Appetite is very hard to say no to. I imagine she looks something like this:

Yeah, I'm pretty sure you don't want to say no to her.

Anyway, this whole post is leading up to something I just read on the inside of the wrapper for one of those Dove chocolates. It's a Valentine's Day chocolate that has been sitting in the candy dish for a few weeks, and I've been trying to ignore it, thanks to my goal.

Goal: Fail. Yet again.

The message, which happens to be from Martha Stewart, says, "Surprise a loved one with pink bed linens on Valentine's Day."

Wha?

Martha, who should I be surprising, exactly? If I had a husband, I don't think pink bed linens would necessarily be a happy thing.

"SURPRISE!"

"Um, what's this?"

"It's your Valentine's Day SURPRISE! Pink BED LINENS!! Isn't that such a surprising SURPRISE?!"

"...Yeah. I was really hoping for a change in the color of my bed linens. The other color just seemed almost too manly."

The day I start taking advice from Martha Stewart, particularly about the proper choice of bed linens, is going to be a very dark day, indeed. I'll probably have to start scrapbooking, too.

*Shudder*

I guess that's what I get for not keeping my goals.

Not to self: Make a goal to keep goals.

(Yeah, that's not happening.)

Women, Know Your Limits

2010-03-04T22:34:00.000-08:00

For any of you who haven't ever lived in Utah County, let me tell you that it's a singular sort of place. Singular, perhaps, because of the people who live here. They are very singular people, indeed, full of all kinds of singularity.

I'm done using the word singular. *Cheers erupt from the 2 people who are reading this blog.* Give me a break! I've been around wee little kidlets all day. They're dear little creatures, but sometimes they just suck the creative juice directly from my brain. And, unfortunately, this makes it difficult for me to think of words.... *Twitch*

What was I saying? Ah, yes. Utah County. It really is a nice place and I can recommend all sorts of things about it. But, sometimes there are people here who have very narrow minds.

Like the one guy who once told my mom, "If God wanted women to wear earrings, He would have created them with holes in their ears."

Hmmm. By that logic, if God wanted us to wear clothes, we would have come out of the womb fully-dressed. (That would be disgusting.)

I'm just saying.

So, when I saw this video, I just had to post it. It's a little overboard, but sometimes I feel that there are people around here who still have this mentality:

Okay, so life here isn't quite that bad, but sometimes I feel that there are people here who think, "Oh, you women are just so sweet. You rest your pretty heads and let the men do the work."

Next time I'm on a date, I'm going to try the kitten line and see if it works.

Oh, and speaking of dating....

I need to find myself a "spunky chap with his hat at jaunty angles" so I no longer need to "wander through the minefield of caddishness".

Well, there you have it. According to these videos, Utah County shares striking similarities with 1940's England. (Well, a satirical 1940's England, anyway.) If only we all had those charming British accents....

Oh, the Bachelor

2010-03-02T17:04:00.000-08:00

Confession: I watched all two hours of The Bachelor season finale, even though I didn't really watch any of the season.

And then I dreamed about being on the Bachelor.

And I didn't get chosen by the Bachelor.

Now, that's just sad. Though, I will say that my dream episode of the Bachelor was a lot more exciting than the actual season finale. I mean, there was a cat fight in mine. A cat fight, people! I didn't see anything even close to a cat fight on the actual season finale. (Though, if they played "On the Wings of Love" one more time, I'm sure some of the studio audience would have rushed the stage and started swinging punches.)

I'm telling you, the producers of the Bachelor need to come find me, because I would make the show interesting. Here are some things I would like to do if I somehow made it on to the show (unlikely) and somehow made it past the first episode (impossible):

1) Punch out the bachelor when he didn't give me a rose.

2) Tell the bachelor that he just wasn't my type, and voluntarily leave.

3) Be a total prude. None of this spending a night in a hotel business. "Thanks for the date. Oh! Look at the time! I'd better be getting home to my own bed, where I will keep my moral standards and continue to be a virtuous woman."

Hmmm. Okay. That might be the main reason I would never be allowed on such a show.

Seriously, though, the Bachelor guy kept talking about how the girl he chose was "naturally sexy" and there was great physical chemistry between the two of them. Those seemed to be the main qualities he based his decision on. That's nice, but aren't you wanting a wife, my friend? What happens when you're both elbow deep in diapers? Or when you guys are sick or old or fat or whatever? Are you going to be sexy then?

Here's what I would love to see happen for at least one season of the Bachelor/Bachelorette. No more of these dates in exotic places like St. Lucia. I think you should go on a camping trip that starts out with a 3-day bus ride. You'll have to sit next to the bus bathroom, the air conditioning will go out half-way through the trip, and there will be a screaming baby on the bus. That will bring out the true colors quickly, I should say.

I'm telling you, ABC, this is what the show should be.

Quarter-Life Crisis #127

2010-02-28T15:32:00.000-08:00

I'm starting to feel like I have a quarter-life crisis about every 3 months or so. I'll figure out what I want to do, where I want to live, etc, and then 3 months later I have to re-evaluate my life again. And then I start banging my ahead against walls, screaming, "What am I doing with my life?!" while my roommate rolls her eyes and shoots me with tranquilizers.

Okay. Maybe I'm exaggerating a bit. Tranquilizers are too messy.

Seriously, though. I think it's time for me to have an official plan--one that doesn't expire every few months. So, here's the plan as it stands right now:

1) Finish up the school year.

2) Strike oil.

3) Travel the world.

Perfect. It's foolproof!!

Calling All Inventors

2010-02-21T13:26:00.000-08:00

I am looking for someone who can invent a "Lung Squeegee". Yes, a Lung Squeegee. Like, a squeegee for the lungs. Because, I don't know about you, but my lungs could use some heavy squeeging.

Eew. Didn't anyone else cringe when I used the phrase "heavy squeeging"? I reserve all rights to use that as a band name.

Well, the challenge has been made, my friends. I expect someone to have a working prototype of the Lung Squeegee on my desk in 3 weeks. Your reward will be a hug and a cookie.

Flowers for Whom: The Conclusion

2010-02-18T21:25:00.000-08:00

Here's an update on the flowers, since I know all of you were just DYING to know what happened.

And I just can't let my 24 followers live in suspense. My conscience can't handle those types of shenanigans. (Yes, I just used the word "shenanigans" in a sentence. I also plan on using the word "defibrillator" at some point in this entry. Just you wait. Also, watch for the word "squeegee" in a future post.)

Of course, I called the floral shop to find out what happened to my poor little lost flowers. Apparently, they weren't lost at all--they just had never been delivered. Mystery solved! So, I went to pick them up, and the lady was so sweet. She even gave me chocolate truffles by way of apology. In my opinion, truffles will make up for just about anything.

Well, maybe not anything. If you murder one of my family members, truffles just aren't going to cut it.

Unless they're really good truffles, and the family member deserved it.

Just kidding, family. Mostly. Ahem.... I mean, really. :-)

Anyway, here are my beautiful flowers from "The Julianna Fan Club", and this is my super excited face!

Yep. I look pretty excited, don't I? I'm so excited, in fact, that someone may need to pull out the defibrillator soon. (Yes. That just happened.)

Oh, and I realize that pretty much all of my pictures on this blog are taken with my computer. *Sigh* I do leave this basement, I swear. I just don't like taking a camera with me....

Anyway, thanks for the flowers!

Flowers for Whom?

2010-02-14T08:27:00.000-08:00

Today I got an email from a floral shop. The email says, "On Monday February 8th, you received flowers from us. We would like your feedback."

Here is my feedback:

"Next time I receive flowers from you, I would love to actually receive them."

That's like adding insult to injury, isn't it? NOT delivering flowers to me, and then telling me they want me to provide feedback on the flowers I didn't get? I mean, without that email I would never have known that I was supposed to get flowers. Now, though, I'm going to sit here wondering what happened to them.

Oh well. Maybe the neighbors upstairs received them, instead, and are enjoying them.

Or maybe they were carnations and the flower delivery guy instinctively knew that carnations are not my favorite, so he didn't bother to deliver them.

Anyway, if you were the person who decided to send me flowers, thanks so much! Sorry I didn't say anything earlier.

Happy Valentine's Day! Here are some flowers for you:

Valentine's Day Survival Guide

2010-02-11T16:53:00.000-08:00

"Valentine's Day is a holiday invented by greeting card companies to make people feel like crap."

--From the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

If you are one of the thousands of people who thinks the above quote is accurate, you need to keep reading.

If you don't agree with the above quote, you may skip to the bottom of this entry and leave a note telling me that I am beautiful, witty, and amazing. Or something along those lines.

It is time for another Healthy Living Spotlight, brought to you by the Hermit Association. Hooray! Grab your heart-shaped notebook and Lisa Frank pencil, friends, because you are going to want to take copious notes.

Are you depressed that you don't have a special someone in your life at the moment? Do you burst into tears whenever you pass by the Valentine's Day section at the local grocery store? Have you bought Twilight-themed Valentines to give to yourself?

--OR--

Are you one of those none-single people who now faces the arduous task of finding that perfect gift? Does the thought of purchasing jewelry make you break out in hives? Have you decided to just throw in the towel and buy your special someone the cheapest chocolate you can find?

If you have answered yes to any of the following questions, I need you to put down the deep-fried Twinkie and pull yourself together! This V-Day madness has got to stop.

I propose that all of us, singles and non-singles alike, choose to follow some basic guidelines in order to avoid the "Roses are Red, Violets are" BLUES. (Ha ha. I am SOOOO clever. Maybe I should start writing greeting cards.)

Here are a few simple ways to help you celebrate the holiday right:

1) DO NOT BUY THE CHEAP CHOCOLATE, NO MATTER HOW CUTE ITS HEART-SHAPED BOX MAY LOOK. No one likes that junk. If you are single, go splurge on something you actually enjoy. If you are buying the chocolate for the love of your life, FOR PETE'S SAKE, SPEND AN EXTRA THREE DOLLARS AND GET HIM/HER SOME TRUFFLES. My goodness.

2) Don't give in to the idea that you need to display some grand gesture of love in order to be validated this holiday. I did some extensive research about Valentine's Day, (or, in other words, I barely skimmed an article on Wikipedia) and it looks to me like this whole "romantic love" business is all Geoffrey Chaucer's fault! No offense intended, Geoff, but I think we would all be a little bit happier if you would have just stuck to your precious Canterbury Tales and left Valentine's Day alone. I mean, it used to be a feast in honor of St. Valentine, people! A FEAST!

Anyway, I'm just saying that it's a nice day to tell people in your life that you love them, but there shouldn't be pressure. If you want to give roses and chocolates, great. If you want to spend the day feasting in honor of some old dead saint, great. If you want to spend the whole day watching movies and sitting in the tub (this is my activity of choice, at the moment), great!

And those are my two main guidelines. As long as you eat some quality chocolate and avoid giving in to the pressure, you should enjoy yourself. If you're still having a hard time, let me know and I will make you some cake or something.

We hermits have to stick together, metaphorically speaking. Happy Valentine's Day, and Happy Hermit-ing!

My Dating Life

2010-02-10T09:00:00.000-08:00

Have you all seen the Land Shark sketch from SNL?

That's my dating life, for you.

"You get out of here before I call the police! You're the shark and you know it!"

"Ma'am, I'm only a dolphin, ma'am."

"A dolphin? Well, okay."

Darn those clever sharks. They're everywhere.

National Read in the Bathtub Day

2010-02-08T14:56:00.000-08:00

BREAKING NEWS

I just found out that tomorrow, February 9th, is National Read in the Bathtub Day. (And, no, I didn't make this one up. Someone else made it up.) How sweet of the powers that be to create a day devoted to one of my favorite pastimes!

However, this makes me wonder something.

What does one need to do in order to create a National day? Or, say, a National Hermit Month? Does anyone know, or does anyone want to do the Google search for me?

Let's make next year officially official.

And everyone else, read in the tub tomorrow!! I think I'll continue my quest through The Chronicles of Narnia. Here I come, Prince Caspian!

What are you going to be reading?

Time is all Relative, right?

2010-02-07T15:21:00.001-08:00

"I will be late, but if you can just wait I will make it eventually."

--Excerpt from "The Next Ten Minutes" from The Last Five Years

Much to my father's chagrin, I am constantly late. (Sorry, Dad.) Usually I'm only about 5 to 10 (to 45) minutes late, but it's still something I'm constantly trying to improve. And constantly failing to improve.

I am an equal-opportunity late-comer, though, so please don't be offended if I happen to be late to your party/class/wedding. It isn't intentional at all. The whole concept of time just disappears for me when I'm trying to get ready to go somewhere. "It's 6:45. I'll start brushing my hair now, as I simultaneously watch a movie and practice the piano. It's 8:00?! How does this happen?"

So, it was no surprise to anyone, most likely, when my roomie and I walked into church a couple of minutes late. One of the Bishopric was standing on the pulpit, welcoming everyone to church. "I just want to welcome all of you," he said. And then he added, "I especially want to welcome those of you who were on time, or even early."

*Sigh* Nothing makes you feel like a bigger jerk than walking in late when someone at the pulpit is not-so-subtly chastising late-comers.

Oh well. As I see it, this whole time concept is just important for us mortals. So, when we all die and go to Heaven, it won't matter. Right? I just have an eternal perspective. That's it.

I bet you feel guilty now for chastising Miss Eternal Perspective, don't you? HAH!

I best be off. I don't want to be late to dinner at my parents' house.....

BZZZZZT

2010-02-05T18:51:00.000-08:00

Thanks for all your participation during Hermit Month. I feel that we all pulled together really well and found the true spirit of hermithood.

Apparently, for me, that spirit consists of lots of bubble baths, sweets, reading, movie-watching, and lots of sleep. Lots and lots of glorious, uninterrupted, warm sleep.

What contributed to this obscene amount of sleep, you may be asking yourself? Let me introduce you to my new best friend: the electric blanket.

How is it that it has taken me 23 years to fall in love with such a brilliant invention? It's absolutely glorious! So glorious, in fact, that it takes every ounce of willpower for me to drag my useless body out of bed every morning.

Hence, my sleep time has greatly increased. Oh, and according to some (most likely bogus) study I discovered, my new best friend is going to make me gain weight. Stupid scientists. They take the fun out of everything.

Next thing you know, they'll be telling me that it's a bad idea to make toast in the tub. *Jules chuckles.* Foolish scientists.

Well, I'm going to go make some cinnamon toast and take a bubble bath. Maybe I'll take my electric blanket in there with me.

Happy Hermit-ing.

Down to the Wire. (What does that even mean?)

2010-01-26T14:52:00.000-08:00

There are only 5 more days left of National Hermit Month, my friends. It's time to get serious and see how much junk food we can consume, how many books we can read, and how many movies/TV shows we can watch. Luckily for us, there are a few incentives to get us working hard on our hermit goals.

1) Girl Scout Cookie season! My roomie and I devoured some Samoa ice cream yesterday, and it was glorious. Feel free to order some and gorge yourself. You deserve it.

2) The Oscars are coming up. I don't necessarily LOVE the Oscars, particularly since the awards (lately) seem to be given out more for political reasons than anything else, (if Obama starred in any movie, he would automatically win best actor) but it's still a good excuse to watch a lot of movies. Why didn't I go to work today? Obviously I was at home in my pajamas, catching up on a year's worth of movies. Duh. What's the matter with you?!

3) The last season of LOST is starting next week. It's very important that you get caught up so you can watch it with the rest of the world.

I'm practically giddy with excitement. *Girlish Giggle*

(RANDOM THOUGHT: The song "Little April Showers" from Bambi just started playing on my Ipod. I hate that song and I hate that movie. I'm terrified right now. Why is this on my Ipod, anyway?! )

Ahem. Sorry about that.

All right, everyone. Let's end January with a bang.

Happy Hermit-ing.

The Ghetto Called. They Want Their Booty Back.

2010-01-25T17:42:00.000-08:00

But I'm not giving it back to them!

It's no secret that I have what my little sister loving refers to as a "Beyonce Booty".

Usually I think I'm the only one who notices, but then certain things happen, like this:

A couple of weeks ago, my darling kindergarten children came into class. Now, our class consists of routine. They come in, sit in a circle, and then proceed to turn into little unmanageable balls of energy that run rampant around the room until class is done. This routine is very important.

On this particular day, they decided to skip the whole "sitting in a circle" part of the routine. I, being the incredible disciplinarian that I am, decided to nip this behavior in the bud. I said, "Children, what shape are we supposed to sit in when we come to class?" Then I drew different shapes on the board. A square? (The smart kindergarten kids said, "No!") A triangle? (No!) A diamond? (No!) A circle?

"Yes!" They cried in unison, with the exception of one little girl who said, "No. It's not finished yet."

"What's wrong with it?" I asked.

This darling girl came up to the board, erased a part of the circle, and said, "There. Now there's a place for you to sit."

Just when my heart was about to melt over the child's sweet gesture, all of the other kids yelled, "It's not done yet! Make it bigger."

So the girl erased more.

"Bigger!"

More was erased.

"BIGGER!"

All right, kids, that's enough. Little punks. Respect the Beyonce Booty, okay?

Gingersnaps are such happy cookies.

2010-01-23T16:05:00.000-08:00

Happiness is:

neglecting your responsibilities just long enough to eat home-made gingersnaps, fresh from the oven, and watch a couple of episodes of Castle.

Add Richard Castle to my list of fictional characters that I have crushes on.

I realize that sounds incredibly nerdy. Oh well. Want a gingersnap? I guess I'd better get back to those responsibilities I've been neglecting.

Happy Hermit-ing.

Yet Another Reason For Hermit Week

2010-01-19T22:14:00.000-08:00

I finally gave in to "the man" and got a Gold's Gym membership a month or so ago. Yes, yes. Go ahead and tell me about how Gold's is an evil corporation run by the devil, and about how I should have gotten a 24 Hour Fitness membership. I've heard this a lot.

And yet, despite the fact that the Gold's franchise in Utah may be owned by the prince of darkness, I'm actually enjoying myself. Does that make me a bad person?

While I may be enjoying my time at Gold's (mostly due to the fantastic cardio cinema), there are certain things I don't appreciate. Certain things that make me want to just do my work outs at home with my handy dandy exercise DVDs. (Pilates for wimps, anyone? It's a really lame workout, actually. Don't buy it.)

What certain things, you may ask? Well, for starters, I don't appreciate people walking around naked in the locker rooms, particularly when there are perfectly good changing stalls available. Oh, and particularly when said naked people have a lot of piercings. PUT SOME CLOTHES ON.

Secondly, I don't appreciate people who come to the gym to make out. Really, friends? Is the bench press REALLY the best place for you to make out passionately on a Wednesday at 4:00 pm? And, if this is the case, at least have the decency to sanitize the bench after you're finished. That would be appreciated.

Anyway, if you want to avoid such awkward situations, you have the Hermit Month excuse for the next 12 days. Milk it for all it's worth.

Happy Hermit-ing

Don't Get Cold Feet About This Whole Hermit Thing

2010-01-09T08:28:00.001-08:00

My hermit celebrations are on hiatus for a couple of days, due to the fact that I am in Texas once again for the weekend. And, for those of you who haven't spent time in West Texas (particularly around my family), let me tell you that it's very hard to remain in hermit-hood when you're surrounded by so many awesome people.

I'm convinced that there's something different about the air in Texas that just produces friendly people. Perhaps the government is pumping some sort of drug into the atmosphere in aerosol form? I'm not sure. I haven't been able to collect enough scientific data to test my hypothesis, but there sure is something different here. More on that later.

Anyway, I just have a few minutes to give you your tip o' the day. Here it is:

If you don't already own one or both of the following, you need to go purchase:

Fuzzy socks
Slippers

(Fuzzy slippers! You need to keep those tootsies warm. Plus, if you're wearing slippers like these, you're not going to want to go out in public. At least, you shouldn't.)

Now, a note on shopping during hermit month-- Under no circumstances should you go to Walmart. Seriously. Go somewhere like Shopko or K-Mart. (No one goes there.) Also, while you're out, pick up something delicious and extremely unhealthy. Chocolate cake? Hot fudge and peppermint ice cream? Pizza? The world is your oyster, my friend. (Please, though, don't buy oysters to eat. That's just gross.)

Happy Hermit-ing.

Epiphany

2010-01-06T21:26:00.000-08:00

I watched "Taken" (the movie) again last night, and I realized two things:

1) I think I need to learn how to completely incapacitate someone with only an arm-chop to the neck. It came in very handy for Liam Neeson, after all.

2) I am very grateful that I am just an ordinary-looking brunette, and not a gorgeous, buxom blonde. Those are the people who get kidnapped, after all. Us moderately normal-looking girls get left alone. Let's face it--I don't think anyone in the sex-slave trade would pay much for this:

(Will you be my friend?)

I could be wrong, though. (I'm not.)

Tips for Your Celebration

2010-01-06T16:08:00.000-08:00

(He's celebrating National Hermit Month. Are you?)

So, bad news about the Hermit cookies. My nutrition goal for the week is to not eat sweets. *Jules makes a sad face.* Those cookies will just have to wait, because I'm not breaking my goal for some nasty-sounding raisin-infested blobs. Okay, maybe they don't sound that bad, but I definitely think I need something more substantial and...oh...CHOCOLATE-COVERED to tempt me.

Forget about the cookies. How is your Hermit Celebration coming? Not sure how to get started? Here are some friendly tips:

1) Focus on how annoying people are. This will encourage you to stay inside, where it's safe. Good places to observe annoying people: the road, church, school, the movie theater. Anywhere, really. They're everywhere.

2) On the first day of the week, spend ten minutes outside without a coat (if you live in a cold area, that is). This will help you to appreciate the safe snuggliness of your bed, and you won't want to leave it. This is an essential part of a productive hermit celebration.

3) Stock up on the books, movies, and food.

4) Oh, all right. If you just CAN'T STAND being away from people, pick some of your finest buds and celebrate the holiday together. I know that this seems to go against the very nature of National Hermit Month, but I suppose I'll overlook it. Especially if your finest buds are cute and cuddly.

It looks like my Hermit month is going to be excellent. I lost my phone charger, and my battery is reaching critical levels. That is definitely going to contribute to the festivities.

More tips will follow! If you have any excellent hermit advice, please feel free to comment. Or just comment anyway. Also, you might want to (not) ignore the following (subliminal) message:

lalalalalalalalalalalaFOLLOWlalalalalalalalalalala
lalaTHISlalalalalalalalalaBLOGlalalalalalala

That is all.

National Hermit Month: The Sequel

2010-01-04T17:35:00.000-08:00

It's January?! Oh my goodness. How did that happen?! I'm completely unprepared for the month, which is a shame because January is...

NATIONAL HERMIT MONTH!!

(Disclaimer: National Hermit Month is not a legitimate celebration...yet. So far, it's only celebrated by me...in my basement.)

Last year's celebration was quite the success. At least, I think it was a success. I don't know if anyone else joined in on it, since the whole point was to just stay at home. Hmmmm.

Well, this year I'm pulling out all the stops for National Hermit Month. I'm even going to make hermit cookies!! Did you know there was such a thing? I found a recipe, and I'm a little worried about how these will turn out, but whatever. The beautiful thing about baking for yourself is that there's no one around to witness your failure. Score.

Want the recipe? Go here.

Happy Hermit-ing!

Jules, Julie, and Julia

2009-12-27T22:01:00.000-08:00

I happened to thoroughly enjoy the movie "Julie and Julia".

Well, I thoroughly enjoyed the Julia parts, anyway. I get the feeling that the Julie character is somewhat annoying...

Anyway, of course this made me want to try cooking from Julia Child's cookbook. Well, guess who got Mastering the Art of French Cooking for Christmas? Me! Me!

So, I think we should make a new movie: Jules, Julie, and Julia. Julia writes the cookbook, Julie reads the cookbook and blogs about it, Jules watches the movie and...totally messes up every recipe in the book. Because, let's face it, that's what's going to happen.

Doesn't THAT sound exciting?

Merry Christmas?

2009-12-21T19:51:00.001-08:00

One of my students gave me this: a giant peppermint stick.

Well, the official name of it is "Big Mint Stick". (Ah, the creativity of these candy-makers astounds me. Somehow, I don't think Willy Wonka had anything to do with creating this one.)

What do I do with a Big Mint Stick? It's huge! So far, the only thing I can think of is to suck on one end of it until it becomes dangerously pointy. Then I'll hang it by my door, right next to the anti-rape alarm and the studly picture of John Stamos. That way, if anyone happens to make it past both the alarm and Uncle Jesse, he'll get a minty stake through the heart.

The name has to be changed, though. The "Big Kill-The-Intruder Stick"? I'll work on it.

Any better ideas?

I Do NOT Remember Him!

2009-12-19T08:24:00.000-08:00

Do you ever have what I like to refer to as "sitcom moments"? Like, you run into someone who has man hands or you invite an alien to be your roommate? This kind of stuff happens to me all the time!

I mean, ahem, my roommate is not an alien. *Shifty eyes* (Your secret is still safe, Taren. Phew!)

Well, I had one of those "Friends" moments the other day. Do any of you remember this gem with Brad Pitt? Even if you don't, you're going to be treated to it right now, thanks to the magic of YouTube:

Oh, Brad. *Sigh* Why did you hook up with Angelina?! WHY?!!

Not important. Here's the "Friends" moment that showed up in my life a little while ago: this dude Will hates Rachel, and she doesn't even remember him.

Let's switch over to my life now, where the people are not quite as funny or attractive, but they also aren't quite as devoid of morals, so it all balances out.

I was hanging out with one of my friends, who we'll call Jim. (Names have been changed, just for fun.)

Jim: Do you remember Juan from choir?

Me: Juan? Um...nope. I'm drawing a complete blank. Who?

Jim: Juan. You really don't remember him?

Me: No. Not at all.

Jim: Well, he certainly remembers you.

Me: What does that mean?

Jim: He doesn't like you at all.

Me: What?! Why?!

Jim: Apparently he asked you out and you totally shut him down. He thinks you're a total (insert not so kind word here).

Me: That's so sad! I don't even remember that at all!

Jim: Well, knowing Juan, he probably mumbled it so you didn't even hear it.

How sad! Some kid I don't even remember hates me! I'm distraught about this. I like to think I'm a semi-likeable person, but my enemies list seems to be growing, especially after those anti-Robert Pattinson blog posts I wrote.

And, just in case you're reading this, Robert, I don't dislike YOU. I just don't think you're very good-looking. We can still be friends, though!

Oh well. You're still my friend, right? Right?

Anyone?

*Crickets chirp*

Fortunately.

2009-12-18T14:40:00.000-08:00

Nerdy Jules Fact #1: I collect fortunes. Yes, that's right; fortune cookie fortunes.

I don't know why I do this, but it's a habit that I've come to accept. Every time I eat at a Chinese restaurant, I write down the date on the back of the fortune and put it in my wallet. I just want to see if any of these fortunes end up coming true.

I started writing the dates down a few years ago. My family and I were at a Chinese buffet for some reason or another. (It must have been some very fancy event: we were at a buffet, after all. "Is it okay if I get some Lo Mein?" "Honey, you can eat as much Lo Mein as you want. We spare no expense here.")

ANYway...

My brother Brandon and I had just decided that we were going to chill that night, since we had nothing better to do. Then we cracked open our fortune cookies. I don't remember what his said, but mine was this:

"The evening promises romantic interests."

Hmmmmm. Needless to say, this one did not come true.

But, that doesn't mean that other fortunes don't come true! I mean, I got this gem a couple of years ago:

"You and your spouse will be happy in your life together."

Okay, so this hasn't happened YET, but I have high hopes that somewhere in the distant future this will become a reality! Then I'll have to write some sort of letter to those random people who work themselves to the bone everyday brainstorming new phrases that will be perfect for the the crunchy cardboard-flavored fortune cookies that bring the world such joy!

Dear Fortune Writers,

You've done it! You have successfully predicted my fortune, and I thank you for it. I am going to request that your boss raises your wage from $7.50 an hour to $7.65. No need to thank me. You just get back to typing out those fortunes. Oh, and please stick to fortunes. I don't need any more truisms (ex. "Your thoughts are highly regarded.") or helpful advice (ex. "Visit a park. Enjoy what nature has to offer.). I would just appreciate it if you would continue to accurately predict my future.

Much love,

Jules

Now, maybe I'll send this letter if my fortune from yesterday comes true:

"A bold and dashing adventure is in your future."

Dashing, eh? Sounds exciting and...British-ish. I'm in.

Have any of you ever had your fortune come true?

I'm just SHO EXSHITED!!

2009-12-18T10:30:00.000-08:00

Ahem. Friends and family, there truly are Christmas miracles. BEHOLD!

Before

(I feel that this photo of my mom and me particularly showcases the ghetto-ness of my formerly crooked teeth. )

During

My final night of braces....

AFTER!

It's a Christmas miracle!! I went in to the orthodontist and he said, "How do you feel about your teeth?"

"...Good. There are a couple of things that aren't completely perfect. Is that going to be a problem?"

"Well, I could keep the braces on for another month and tweak things, if you like...."

"TAKE 'EM OFF! TAKE 'EM OFF!"

I was just so excited! Then he informed me that I have to wear a retainer 24 hours a day for the next year.

I'm not so excited about that part. (Make sure you read that sentence with a spitty voice, since I now have the wonderful retainer lisp.) *Sigh* The sacrifices we make for self-improvement....

Eeeew.

2009-12-14T15:03:00.000-08:00

I don't care how popular Glee! is. I would rather die than be in a show choir. *Shudder* And I'm a choir teacher, so that says something.

Speaking of choir, we have our Christmas concert tonight. Wish me luck.

This one time....

2009-12-04T18:00:00.000-08:00

Do you ever feel like you're boring or unadventurous?

I was on a date once with a guy who asked, "What's the craziest thing you've ever done?"

Hmmmm. Think, think, think. Ooh! Maybe I could talk about that one time in high school when I skipped class.... Wait. That doesn't count because I got my teacher to excuse me, first. I know! I could tell him about that one night when I randomly drove to Wendover with some friends and...walked around the casinos. THAT would be an exciting story.

It was at this moment that I realized how incredibly boring I am. Sure, I'd always had a sneaking suspicion that I was somewhat bland, but as I sat there eating my Thai Red Curry--the same thing I always get at Thai restaurants, I might add--I suddenly knew that I was just a boring person. The kind of person who might spend her Saturday nights blogging, for example.

You know what's funny about this whole thing? I've tried to be a good girl my whole life. And what do I have to show for it now? Well, I certainly don't have any amusing anecdotes to bring up during a date. That's for sure!! What good is a happy life if you don't have street cred? Am I right?

Well, from here on out this is going to change. I'm going to be dangerous!! (After all, if you mix up the letters in my last name, it spells TROUBLE!!! I'm so darn clever.)

Here is a list of all of the rebellious things I've done today:

I didn't buckle my seatbelt until nearly ten minutes AFTER I started driving.

I skipped the gym and decided to eat chocolate instead.

I didn't make my bed or fold my clothes. HA!

That's my list so far. Yes, my friends, I'm on my way to having all sorts of fun stories to tell at those wild parties I'm going to start attending.

Maybe We Can Find a Banana For Your Monkey

2009-12-01T22:23:00.000-08:00

"Now, generally I'd hesitate about passing an opinion about somebody's kid, but even if I don't say it, it's an ugly baby."

--Flip Wilson

I realize that someone is going to burn me at the stake for saying this, but I don't think newborn babies are cute. I just don't. Every single one, without exception, (yes, that includes yours) looks like some sort of alien or monster.

(Good grief! A 19 pound baby! Gross.)

Granted, some are better-looking than others, but they're all ugly.

Really, though, how could you expect a brand new baby to be cute? The little dear has sat in a tummy for 9 months, only to be brought into the world via a tiny, goo-covered passage-way. It's not exactly a pretty process. It's only natural that the poor thing is going to look like a lizard for a while.

So, please don't show me a picture of your fresh-out-of-the-oven child, complete with the wrinkled-up face all covered in goo, and expect me to gush about how beautiful he/she is. I won't.

Now, if you show me a picture several months later, I will definitely be gushing.

(Aw. See? Not wrinkled and goo-covered now. At the moment, anyway.)

Of course, all of MY babies will be completely gorgeous, right? So I will be showing you all of the pictures of the fetus and goo and naked bathtub photos. And you'd better gush over them, so help me.

*Sarcasm intended.

Robert: Round Two

2009-11-20T12:48:00.000-08:00

Okay. I'm sure you're all tired of hearing about anything Twilight-related, but I have one more post to do. My deepest apologies, but I feel like I have to defend myself. Even though I realize no one will ever read this.

A little while back, I went on a tiny rant about Robert Pattinson being a huge sex symbol. I personally do not understand the hype behind the Twilight movies in general, and I certainly don't understand why Pattinson was chosen to play Edward Cullen, a character who is supposed to be the most handsome and perfect man ever, according to Stephenie Meyer. I just think Pattinson is blah. And, frankly, if he wasn't chosen to play the role of Edward, the entire world would continue to think he was just blah. But, because he happened to be cast as a character that millions of tweens and middle aged women have been fantasizing about for the past few years, Pattinson has become the obsession of millions.

Does no one else find this annoying?! And strange, for that matter? I think it's strange when women and men go up to Pattinson and ask him to bite them. Even stranger is that he actually bites them.

Friggin' creepy.

I'm going off on a tangent, though. Back to the point.

After I posted this little rant about Pattinson, I got a lot of comments from people who were obviously doing a Google image search for good ol' Rob. Since many of these comments are from Anonymous commenters, or from people who will never stop by my blog again, I won't have a chance to respond to their lovely comments. So, I might as well get it off my chest by blogging. :-) Teehee! Here's a random sampling of some of the more choice comments:

From Anonymous:

WTF EVER!! By looking at avatar pics, Pattinson looks waaaay better then everyone that has left a comment on this page!!I seriously doubt he would find any of you attractive either!!

haters!! pattinson is gorgeous.

First of all, I have no idea what "WTF ever" means. (And, I apologize for those of you who don't enjoy the phrase "WTF". I'm only quoting this time.) Secondly, I'm sure Robert Pattinson would NOT find me attractive. I definitely agree. But, I'm not the one doing a huge spread for Vanity Fair, am I?

(Can anyone say Special Needs? I think he's waiting for the short bus. But, I guess he's cute, if you like that sort of thing.)

When people start calling me the sexiest woman alive, buying posters of me, and fainting whenever my name is mentioned, then I fully expect to have hundreds of bloggers posting horrible pictures of me. (And, believe me, there are plenty to be had.)

From Anonymous:

Isn't this when he was wayy younger, and plus I agree photoshop, ROB IS HOT!

You caught me. I was using Photoshop to try to make Robert Pattinson look ugly, all as part of my evil smear campaign. That's what I do in my spare time, after all. I put the heads of celebrities on bodies of eight-year old girls. Then I giggle to myself. (Actually this is supposedly from a photo shoot he did when he was a lot younger. I'll give you that. And, truth be told, this very well could be some Photoshop mock up someone else did, but I can show you hundreds of terrible pictures of Rob that still bring my point across.)

And, finally, from Lola-Grace:

Robert Pattinson would NEVER pose for a photo if he looked like that, it's clearly photoshop. It's ridiculous that any of you actually believed that. And even more ridiculous that you would post a blog just to say you think someone is ugly. Would you honestly post a blog saying how ugly you thought your next door neighbour was? Pretty cruel really.

Thanks for your comment, Lola. I have a few things to say to you.

A) First of all, here are some more of these creepy young Rob in his underwear pics. It appears that he did indeed pose for them. And, yes, I realize that he's young, so he's obviously not going to be all sexy or whatever. I don't care! It's weird! (Of course, that's just from my 20 seconds of Google searching, so it could all be fake. I'm not going to devote any more research to that.)

B) Why do we have to point out that the bad photos of Rob are "clearly done with Photoshop"? Do you think this photo of him wasn't Photoshopped?

Or this?

OR THIS?!!

I could just as easily say, "Oh, come on. I can't believe any of you actually believe he really looks like that. It's clearly Photoshop." I'm just saying.

C) Why is it so ridiculous to post about some not being attractive? There are hundreds, if not thousands, of blogs devoted to posting about how beautiful Robert Pattinson is. Is it really so ridiculous that I dedicate one post (okay, two and a half posts) to pointing out that Pattinson really isn't as attractive as all of the hype leads us to believe? Perhaps, but what might be even more ridiculous is to be searching for Pattinson pictures, and leaving comments on a random girl's blog. That might be even a little MORE ridiculous. Then again, it could be a little more ridiculous for me to be devoting an entire post to arguing with anonymous commenters. *Shrug* I could go on and on. The point is that you and I are both being a little ridiculous, Lola.

D) Finally, let me point out one more thing. I don't believe that it is cruel to say I don't personally think Robert Pattinson is deserving of all of the attention he is getting. He's definitely more attractive than the average person on the street, but he's an actor. It's part of his JOB to be attractive. And, no, I most likely would not post about my next-door neighbor being ugly for a few reasons:

--I don't think I even know what my next-door neighbor looks like. (Us basement-dwellers don't fraternize much with the Above-grounders.)

--I don't think that blog post would be entertaining. (It might, though, depending on how ugly my next-door neighbor is. If he looks anything like Sloth, I might have some blogging gold on my hands! Thanks for the idea, Lola!

--MY NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR IS NOT BEING HAILED WORLDWIDE AS A SEX SYMBOL!!! The minute that happens, I will definitely be blogging about it and posting several unattractive photos. Just you wait.

*Deep breath* Okay. I think I'm done. I guess I get a little irritated when people comment about how I could make the world a better place if I stopped being so cruel. This blog is entitled A Hermit's Ranting Tantrums, which connotes that it will be a collection of posts about things that bovver me. If you want something a little different, please feel free to visit my new blog. (Please go visit that "bovver me" link, by the way. Oddly enough, I think Jimmy Fallon is a more attractive Robert Pattinson than Robert Pattinson is.)

No worries. I'll get off the Twilight tangent before I post again. :-)

Silly Vampire.

2009-11-19T20:49:00.000-08:00

Gather round, boys and girls. I just got back from watching the 9:00 am showing of New Moon, and you know what that means!

*Jules dusts off her movie soap box and climbs aboard.*

It's time for some good ol' movie reviewing!

Now, I wasn't originally intending to go see New Moon opening day. I was thinking I should wait until it came to the dollar movie, mainly so I didn't give any more of my pennies to support the Twilight Saga movie franchise. But, then I did a little checking on rottentomatoes.com, and saw that New Moon got a whopping 29%. (That number has gone up a bit now, I see. I guess the midnight-showing people must have gotten online and boosted the ratings since last night.) Twilight, which was a horrible film, got a 49% on the same website.

Do the math. New Moon has a 20% lower percentage, which means that it has a 73% chance of making me laugh 43% more than Twilight did. Or it could just suck. Hard.

That's why it's better to go to an early bird showing and get a discount, right? Right.

How about I break it down into a pros and cons type of list, hmmm?

Pro:

They got someone else to do the music, (Alexandre Desplat, who has done some good stuff with Golden Compass and Curious Case of Benjamin Button) and this really helped. My ears weren't assaulted by a constant drone of cheesy, over-dramatic 1980's electric guitar music. Instead, they got to listen to over-dramatic string music. And I am perfectly fine with that.
There was plenty of this in the movie:

Robert Pattinson wasn't in half the movie. Hooray!

Cons:

Robert Pattinson was in half the movie. Boo! That meant you got to see a lot of this:

I'm having a hard time understanding why the producers decided that Edward Cullen, the vampire with the body that is supposedly chiseled out of marble, needed to keep his chest hair, while Jacob, the werewolf, got to be hairless. *Shrug*

Unfortunately, Kristen Stewart was in the whole movie. Of course, this could be a pro, if you're into that whole awkwardly delivering lines in a slow monotone voice thing. I'm just the type of person who appreciates good acting. Call me crazy.

Well, I'll stop now. But, I am going to leave you with the best New Moon spoof I've seen. Please watch the trailer first (which, coincidentally, is all you'll need to see to get the gist of New Moon), and then watch the spoof. It's great.

Gobble Gobble

2009-11-18T20:52:00.000-08:00

So, it's no secret that I am not exactly the queen of domesticity. I'm pretty sure that if I wanted any chance at all to be allowed into the Royal Court of the Domestically-Inclined I would have to be the Court Jester or something.

Sometimes, I forget this. Today was one of those days.

I'm in charge of planning activities in my ward, and this week we decided to have a Thanksgiving Potluck. Guess who volunteered to cook the turkey? Guess who has no idea how to cook a turkey?

Oooh! Ooooh! Me!! Pick me!! *Jules jumps up and down, frantically waving her hand in the air.*

And, while I'm at it, why don't I make a sweet potato casserole? Yes. That sounds like a brilliant idea. This is going to be great, Jules.

(These must have been my thoughts, if I was thinking at all.)

And so it was that I found myself in the kitchen today, struggling to fit both a sweet potato casserole and a turkey in an oven that was too small. And this was after I a) realized that I don't own a potato peeler, b) realized that peeling sweet potatoes with a knife is hard, and c) realized that my lack of potato-peeling skills will likely keep me out of the army. Oh. I also realized that sweet potato peels clog up the garbage disposal.

DRAT.

No worries, though. I figured that all out and got everything cooked. Surprise: the turkey was so pretty...until I carved it.

Yes. Carved. That is an excellent word to describe how I delicately cut the succulent meat.

Who am I kidding? I brutally massacred it. I tried to be all delicate and junk, but then I just got frustrated, ripped the legs off and hacked the breasts off. It was a terrible scene of turkey carnage.

(I'm sorry for the graphic images that may have just been conjured up in your mind. I hope there are no children present. )

Despite all of this, the turkey ended up being a success! Hopefully the people in my ward don't all get salmonella. That would be nice.

Oh, and I hope you're reading this, Daddy, because you will be so proud of me. I figured out how to unclog the garbage disposal--all by mine self! (Well, with a little help from the internet, too.)

Am I still the Court Jester of the Domestic Court? Probably, but the whole thing could have gone a lot worse....

Oh, Imogen. I love you.

2009-11-14T21:52:00.000-08:00

My love for Imogen Heap has increased ever so much.

If you don't know her stuff, you really need to go check it out. Go. Leave this blog, listen to some of her stuff, and report back to me.

Ok, you can stay if you want to. I don't mind. Imogen might not be your cup of tea, anyway. Here's an example of one of her performances, for those of you who haven't gotten to experience her live. (And, yes, her outfit is very different. Give her a break. She's "creative".)

She played a show on Thursday, and I am so happy I got to go. She was fantastic. I did have one problem with the show, though....

Drunk people.

I don't understand why you would pay to go to a concert and then pay more money to get completely wasted. Chances are you won't really remember the show the next day, and you're going to ruin the concert for the rest of the audience. I think one of the funniest parts of the show was when some girl in the audience got fed up with the large group of inebriated people, and shouted out "SHUT THE *&%$ UP!" Then Imogen smiled and, in her cute British accent, said, "I couldn't have said it better myself." I felt like I was back at a high school assembly.

Humans are strange.

Yay America.

2009-11-11T20:19:00.000-08:00

Happy Veteran's Day, everyone.

I have a confession: Someone had to tell me it was Veteran's Day. I feel so unpatriotic.

In an effort to make up for this, I am posting this very patriotic image:

Go America! I love you very much.

As part of my penance, I have a few other confessions:

I ate six muffins today.

Yesterday, my poor depth perception got the best of me, and I sort of scraped my car along the side of the house. That was not my brightest moment.

I'm tempted to give all of my students an A just so I don't have to deal with complaints or questions. (Does that make me a bad person?)

I secretly hope that I can win tickets to the midnight showing of New Moon. Part of me wants to see it, but I would rather not support it with my money.

Alright. That's enough confessions for one day. Do you think I'm forgiven? Just in case, here's another patriotic video!

Just Haven't Met You Yet

2009-11-07T17:56:00.000-08:00

Taren showed me this music video the other day. Love it! It's definitely my new theme song.

I have a few thoughts:

1) Michael Buble's facial expressions concern me. He's cute and all, but there's just something about the darn faces he makes. I constantly feel uncomfortable when I watch him sing.

2) Where is this grocery store, and why am I not shopping there?!

3) The man's pants at 3:34 are also very concerning. That cut is getting precariously close to the nether-region. I don't know which genius in the wardrobe department thought it would be brilliant to put a pair of ripped, butt-tight pants on a dancing man, but every time I watch this I can't help feeling that something disastrous could happen at any minute.

That's all, really.

Oh, and Michael? It's true--you haven't met me yet. But just you wait. Once I find that extremely awesome grocery store, it's going to be magical.

Somebody Needs A Time Out

2009-11-06T16:19:00.000-08:00

I would like to know what Elizabeth Lambert was thinking during this soccer game. Did the BYU players steal Elizabeth's boyfriend? Call her mean names? Eat the last of the Rocky Road at the pre-game ice cream social?

I can almost hear her thoughts before she grabbed the girl's pony tail. "That was MY ice cream. MINE!"

Come now, Elizabeth. That was just uncalled for. Now, if it had been BlueBell Homemade Vanilla, that would be a different story.