Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Button (Conclusion)

It went to my pants.

The pants are retired, and don't fit anymore.

But at least I know where that button came from.

The end.

Sunday, July 29, 2012


There is a lone button sitting on my kitchen table. I don't remember where it came from, or what it went to. I vaguely remember pulling the button off of something because its threads had gotten loose, so I know at some point it belonged somewhere, had some purpose in this universe, but right now it is sitting on my kitchen table, looking out of place and useless.

The end.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012


Is there anything more delightful than a hot crispy churro, coated in cinnamon and sugar, fresh from a Disneyland churro stand? I think not.

I have loved churros for as long as I can remember. In fact, when I was in junior high and happened to visit multiple amusement parks on a frequent basis (for whatever reason), I did a comparison of churros from Disneyland, Knott's Berry Farm, and Six Flags Magic Mountain. I analyzed texture, flavor, and price. Disneyland won for the texture and flavor, but Knott's Berry Farm came a close second, and was also the cheapest of the three. Magic Mountain was right out.

"Churro" is the first word I ever discovered missing from an English dictionary, and at Disneyland I can smell a churro cart a mile away (or at least before I see it).

Elegyrl knows how much I love churros. One time, she purchased a churro from Disneyland just as she left, drove home, vacuum-sealed the churro, and mailed it to me. I wish I could say it tasted as magically delicious as it would have at the park, but it was pretty hilarious anyway.

Another time, Elegyrl sent me a box churro mix, which I brought with me on one of my visits to Tuffett manor. Queen Tuffett consented to allow me to make the churros in her kitchen, and together we whipped up the mix. The resulting dough was incredibly thick and stiff, but neither of us was sure whether it was supposed to be that way or not, so we left it alone, trusting to the directions.

The churro mix came with a plastic pastry bag and pastry tip so the dough could be squeezed out into its typical churro shape. I had pressed about 4 inches of a churro through the tip when the bag blew a hole. Queen Tuffett and I fixed up the bag and tried again, but it blew another hole. It was just no use--the dough was too thick.

Then I had a brilliant idea. I asked Queen Tuffett if her children had any Play-Doh presses, and she said they did. I chose carefully from the various shapes and settled on a star to start with:

Amazingly, it worked. The hard plastic held up against the force of the dough (though some still squeezed out the sides), and the churro-making commenced in earnest. Hurrah!

Here is a comparison of the original box-mix-pressed churro (on the right) and the Play-Doh-pressed churro (left):

My favorite part--the sugar-coating:

Finished products (I know, they look like French fries):

They didn't taste nearly as good as the churros at Disneyland, but they were still pretty scrumptious. I ate way too many of them, at any rate.

Ah, I need to go to Disneyland again. It has been far too long since my last churro encounter.

Friday, July 20, 2012


Sometimes it is actually lonelier to make new friends than it is to remain a recluse with your heart safely guarded.

Sunday, July 15, 2012


I am not a person who embarrasses easily. I am no stranger to tripping over my own two feet, falling down, running into walls, dropping things, and other such typically "embarrassing" events. That sort of stuff I can just laugh off and move on. What really embarrasses me is things that I regret saying or doing.

For instance, today at the beginning of church (in Relief Society) there were announcements as usual. One sister got up and announced, "Because of the ward activity this week, we're going to be cleaning the building on Thursday at 8:00, instead of on Saturday."

"AM or PM?" I asked.

"PM," she answered.

And then, before I could connect my brain to my mouth, I said, "Yes! I can't make it!"

Everyone laughed, of course, but after I said that, I realized how terrible it sounded. I have been attending the church cleanings as often as I can, as I think it's important that each church member take responsibility for his or her church building, but it's always frustrating to me because so few people show up, and so little work is done. Volunteers look at things and say, "Oh, that's not too bad," rather than saying, "Hey, let's make this cleaner because this is the house of the Lord, and it should be spotless."

This past week, I somehow found myself the last person in the building, just me and one other guy. How had this happened? There was an entire section of the church that had been skipped over (because our ward doesn't use it), but I didn't have time to clean the whole thing myself. Shouldn't there be someone in charge to check things and make sure they're done properly before everyone scarpers off? That's what I did as a manager at the BB&B: when we closed at night, the employees in each department tidied up, and then I checked to make sure they'd done an ok job. Entrusting church-cleaning volunteers to check the thoroughness of their own work is great, yes, but I don't think it's very effective. A church should be cleaned, not wiped down once a week.

At any rate, I was embarrassed at having said that, because I really do enjoy cleaning the church. I try to clean the areas that I think could easily be glossed over, like the chalkboards, window sills, baseboards, and so on. And while on the one hand I don't mind not being able to clean the church this week, on the other hand I never should have said that aloud--it doesn't justly express my full feelings, it demonstrates an improper attitude, and it's just bad manners.

That is what brings me the greatest embarrassment and shame: things I say that I shouldn't have said.

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Pet Peeve: Literally

The word "literally" is overused and often misused too. Most of the time, the word need not be used at all.

Due to my strong dislike of this word, I am henceforth banishing the word "literally" from my personal vocabulary, except maybe to allow myself the odd use of the word in jest.

Monday, July 2, 2012

Just Act Normal

Once upon a time I was set up on a blind date, and for some reason I was really nervous. I asked my friend Elizabeth for advice on what to do and how to act.

"Just be yourself," she said.

Then she looked at me with a thoughtful expression on her face and said, "Actually, don't be yourself. Just act normal."

In the end, it didn't matter how I acted, because the guy was about as exciting as a stick, but I thought that was still good advice. I've found it best to reveal my true "me" to others in doses, not all at once--otherwise, I can be a bit overwhelming.