Thursday, 29 December 2011

the girl who gets hurt.

There are few things that irk me more than people who are consistently getting "hurt." You know what I'm talking about. They're clinical pity partyists, unconvincing hypochondriacs, and cousins to people who always sing just loud enough to be heard above everything else.

No one wants to date the girl who always gets hurt. You can't play catch with her. You can't take her on a hiking trip with your buddies, unless you either like being miserable or she is much more attractive than you. Only saints and sellouts are capable of hanging out with these people.

Well, a few months back I had a real scare that I just might be one of them. Let me explain. 

Boy and his friends are into dirt biking. (Here I feel it is necessary to say that my only other experience dating a dirt biker was my first kiss when I was 14. He liked Fox racing, was quite sexy and possibly illiterate. Since him I haven't had much experience on the dirt biking front.) So after a few months of dating, he suggested that I come with him and all his friends to the sand dunes. It will be super cool! All the dudes are gonna show off on dirt bikes and the girls can ride around on ATVs and watch us! I agreed to go.

(kind of legit)

After a bit of riding around on my quad I was starting to feel way awesome about myself. Sick bra, I'm so Travis Pastrana right now!! Such thoughts were occupying my mind when I went over a dune that was a litttttttle larger than I'd anticipated. Next thing I know I am face down choking on sand and in quite a bit of pain.

I look up to see every one of his friends sitting at the top of the dune looking down at me, and in my head all I could think was, "I am the girl who got hurt. I am that girl who gets hurt. NOOOOO!!!!!!"


Everything went into slow motion. I had a flashback to the time my nephew got "hurt" and was limping around our house. He kept having to switch legs because he forgot which one was injured.

I remembered a girl I used to take dance classes with. One day she walked into Ballet class late, dressed in street clothes. She stopped awkwardly in the middle of the class and announced to the teacher: "I sprained my ankle."
Riggggggggght.
She immediately turned and began limping out of the class. Our teacher asked, "Well, aren't you going to stay and watch?" But the girl who got "hurt" kept right on limping out the door. I guess her ankle affected her hearing as well.


I came back from my daydreaming to a swarm of very nice, concerned people asking if I was okay. Pshhh, me? Totally fine! That was so funny right? After all, it was pretty funny. It also hurt pretty badly. But I lied my way through it and rode the rest of the day! Later I found out I had a minor tear in my AC joint on my shoulder, which is really not a big deal but does make you pretty miserable for a few days. 

So lesson learned...if you find yourself in a situation where you would like to make a good impression but instead end up injured, remember that you can always just LIE. You (and probably your boyfriend) will thank yourself in the end. 

Tuesday, 27 December 2011

happy late christmas.

Hope you looked as good as I did!


Socks--CVS, Jeans--Levis, Sweater--Vintage Nordstrom, Jingle Earrings-Handmade by Sue J. Groesbeck, Holiday Spirit--Priceless.

Friday, 16 December 2011

Thermador of Death.

Remember when they told you if you left your straightener turned on all day it would burn your life down?

 Welll, this is the contraption that is supposed to heat my apartment. It's called a THERMADOR.


The only difference I see between the straightener and the Thermador is that the former has nice, enclosed, flat heated surfaces while the latter has blazing, smoldery, flammable coils of death.

Also, the latter is a permanent fixture in my bathroom. 

While I am quite confused at the logic behind the Thermador, the fact that it saves me from the freezing cold of un-insulated walls means I have no intentions of quitting it. Please wish me luck, as I am quite over house fires and would hate to repeat this

Thursday, 8 December 2011

all i want for christmas....


....is Betty Hayne's legs. 

Have you watched WHITE CHRISTMAS yet this year?



(Fast forward to 2:16 for the good stuff)

So...Christmas in two weeks huh? All I see is palm trees and I am thoroughly confused. I even resorted to Kenny G's "Miracles" album to put me in the mood but something just felt wrong. You know when it's July 27th and your iPod is on shuffle and "All I Want for Christmas is You" comes on? It felt like that. Only it's December here in this Twilight zone called LA-la land, where the outdoor malls create fake snow so you can feel like it's Christmas whilst spending zillions of dollars on your celeb friends. So strange.

I can't complain about the fact that I could* walk out my door any morning and go running. Or that tonight was my first time wearing my puffy coat. I'm simply in need of a lil' Holiday cheer.

How do you people from sunny climates feel Christmas-ish? I'm in need of a little help.

*could, not do.

Thursday, 1 December 2011

silver lining

Remember that time I worked 24 hours in two days and at the end of all of it the power went out at the agency and I lost half my work? Ok, ok I didn't, but for a minute I thought I did and was about to tear my all of my hairs off. Thank you Bill Gates for inventing Auto Recovery as part of your Microsoft Word software.


(this is what Chiat/Day (& night) looks like when the power is out. creep fest!)


The silver lining in all of this though, is that according to howmanyofme.com, I am approximately the ONLY Rebbie Groesbeck in the US of A. Take a looksie.


I would recommend that you visit that website, but I can't be sure it won't give infect your computer with viruses. Virusi? Anyway, I'm feeling all sorts of one-of-a-kind. Happy December friends!

Thursday, 17 November 2011

queen b.

Right now I want to be-yonce more than I want to be me.

Tuesday, 8 November 2011

Dear newest Twitter follower:



I have a feeling you go to BYU. In fact, I will give you $8,000,000,123,456,999 if not.

Monday, 31 October 2011

Is this real vida??

The other day whilst Spotifying my workday away, I came across this ad.


What else could I think but, is this verdad? I did a little research and, according to Wikipedia, they are indeed a real band. I have this weird feeling they're trying to tap into multiple markets ("I know! You call yourself nacho, everyone knows what those are") in order to appeal to a double horde of teenage girls ("Poeta is only one letter away from poet so, you know, they'll get that we're singing poetry even though they don't know what princessa and besos mean").

The music video for their hit single "NiƱa Bonita" has 33.9 MILLION HITS on YouTube. I tried to keep my finger from clicking and becoming the next victim of this hispanohablante movement, but alas, I failed. I'm keeping your self respect intact by not posting it in this post. 

I guess I shouldn't be so surprised that things like Chino y Nacho exist, should I? I'm just not sure I've come across anything so stereotypically, racially perfect yet terrible since my African American Cabbage Patch doll whom I named Chocolate.

Friday, 14 October 2011

beginner's luck.

When you 'study' Advertising in school, you have these grandiose dreams of doing work for products you actually like. You know--Nikes, Levis, iPods. Cool things you'd actually buy. Nine out of ten ad students enter the real world to find themselves working from 10 AM til whenever the client is happy creating web banners for global business-to-business tech companies. ("Well, I really think we should look at the Call To Action again. Is "Explore" a bit stronger than "Learn More?"") You fake it til you make it and eventually convince yourself that it's not unethical to sell something you hate because someone, somewhere has to like this stuff. Right?

Anyway. I feel incredibly lucky to have worked on this project for Bare Escentuals. If you haven't used their products, you must! I started using it when an esthetician made me feel my bumpy cheeks and promise to never buy Target makeup again. I've been a believer for a few years now and can honestly say it's changed my skin. This campaign was going into production right when I got here. It's full of warm fuzzies, and it works something like this...


(if you pause it at 1:30 you will see my famous face doing that terrible thing i do where i cover my mouth with my hand)

Our team was made up entirely of chicks. Recipe for success right? Call me a feminist, but sometimes it takes cool chicks to spot other cool chicks. It was amazing how strongly these women's personalities came through that wall (especially the sword collector, who was slightly bonkers). One of the greatest unforeseen outcomes was the response from the models. Every one of them mentioned how flattering it was to have a casting director care about WHO they were instead of just WHAT they looked like. I mean, models are people too, right?

The five women we ended up with made our jaws drop. After meeting and interviewing them, there came a point where we were all like, wait...do I suck? By the end of the shoot though, the models seemed to have developed mutual girl crushes on the ladies on my team. (Like I said, warm fuzzy fest). From discussing Buddhism vs. Mormonism with Keri to Darlene making me teach her how to use a Mac, I can personally vouch for the realness and more importantly, the goodness of our five Forces of Beauty.

Here's to being able to promote something I really believe in. And here's to a team of amazing ladies who dedicated bijillions of hours to bringing more real beauty into the world.

Check out the rest of the campaign here. And go buy some B.E. :)

Monday, 10 October 2011

feisty lady.


I've been meaning to post this since her new album came out last week and I'm really cool so I'm always the first one to listen to new music.
Jokes!

But seriously, your quality of life will improve if you download this album. If you are poor like me, download Spotify and listen to it for free. It is hauntingly beautiful.
Happy Monday friends.

Monday, 3 October 2011

almost ryan gosling post.

I almost wrote a post about ryan gosling, then I remembered I am an adult. Then I remembered the time I clicked on a link entitled "every photo ever taken of ryan gosling and his dog," and started writing one again. Then I read this. And realized my post would likely pale in comparison.

So read it!! And all I'll add is the fact that his almost-mormonism makes him so terribly much more appealing. If only I could visit teach him!! I heard he lives in L.A. so we'll see how that pans out.



On a completely separate and more righteous note, how lovely was general conference this weekend? Provo tabernacle = temple? I am so proud to have been born in the spiritual epicenter of the universe!!! Jokes. Seriously though, what a beautiful future for such a beautiful building. I'm so grateful to be able to have my life so incredibly spiritually recharged twice a year.


On another separate note, I have never been so Fall-sick. If you live in Utah, please go on a drive through Provo Canyon. Afterwards, rake up your leaves into a big pile and jump in them. Then send me one. My address is....jk. But appreciate it ok? It's so dang sunny and warm here. Not complaining....but I love and miss my Utah crisp fall air...almost as much as I love mr. R.G. Cuz we totes have the same initials. Fate!

Monday, 12 September 2011

my life...

...consists of writing lots of things. Some of these things are called "MANIFESTOS," in which you tell a brand who they are and what they stand for. It has to really put a stake in the ground you know? Really make people want to rise up and join the fight, to give their life for this brand if it's required. A friend at work sent me this little gem, which gives you a glimpse into our lives.


Thank you to whoever Kimmok is for helping me through a very long evening at work last week.

Sunday, 4 September 2011

if you like kanye, you might hate me.

I'm sure you're all unaware that this weekend in Los Angeles, CODXP happened. CODXP, you ask? To the best of my knowledge I think it stands for Call of Duty X-Perience? Basically it's where thousands of gamerdorks come together to play a new video game. While zip lining and paint balling were also available, I don't think this crowd cares much for physical activity.

Since Chiat does all the advertising for Activision, they let us go for free. Not too tempting, UNTIL they told us Kanye West was playing....hmm... I mean I like Kanye as much as the next white girl from Provo, Utah (?).


Helena and I, the two blond females in the building. This lady has been known to get in VIP at a club for telling them she was the Princess of Monaco...suffice it to say getting us to the front row was not a problem.

What was a problem was when we had to watch a bunch of dudes compete for this trophy with fake dude guns at the bottom, which they won along with $400,000 DOLLARS!!! The whole time I just wanted to run up on stage and yell, "GO OUTSIDE!!"


Finally they took got to the realll dealll. Here's the setup crew.


Here's our krewww.

The videos I took look amazing on my phone and terrible on my computer so I will work on getting better copies of them. At one point Kid Cudi came out and I missed high-fiving them both by inches!!! Blast!! For now, here's where he popped up right behind me.


And where he descended.

First moments on stage.

"I'm lost in the wooooods!!!!"

Ballet + hip hop? Why not. This definitely did not make me miss my leotard-wearing days and I think a few of them unfortunately forgot their spray adhesive. At least none of them had to wear any of this.


Annnnd here's where we made eye contact.


I know I just wrote a blog post about hating internet narcissism, I know that on Monday it may be a different story...but last night my job was a little cooler than yours.

Thursday, 1 September 2011

i met a guy...

...who is handsome, smart, righteous, funny, kind and....
HE LOVES CREED.

Creed, the band. Remember? I almost put their music on my blog before remembering I'd rather die.

HE LOVES CREED! I cannot state that fact more clearly or with more disbelief. It's that tragic moment where you hear the one sentence, slow motion, that confirms you could never make someone happy.

Mine used to be, "Well, I just go to Community College because it's easy and I can hang out as much as I want." Now I'm afraid it's, "I like the band CREED."

Even worse is when it's followed by "I like Creed's evil-twin-step-cousin Nickelback, too."


Aghh this guy! With his Top Ramen hair!

Truth be told, the guy I speak of is only a friend of mine (I know you all got your hopes up) and there's never been romantic interest and I told him I could hate the sin (CREED) but love the sinner (him) despite our fundamental differences. But it's a little easier said than done. I mean I just don't get it, CREED??

Okay, okay I'll stop. But someone tell me you understand....

Sunday, 28 August 2011

The week after vacation....

...feels like an eternal Monday.
Last week in Bear Lake I realized that I basically have the best family in the universe. Here are a very few pictures, brought to you by Instagram.


Our first stop every year is Bob's for some fresh Bob's Raspberries. We O.D. on these things.


View from the deck. Any book read here is 50% more enjoyable.

View from the casita down by the lake. What a beautiful mess we make at this place.

I can't say I'm a fan of dragonflies, but you have to be heartless to not feel bad for this guy. He somehow got skewered on the antennae of our truck and may have permanently ruined my appetite for kabobs.

It's been a terrible adjustment to real life but slowly I'm getting there :) I'm not sure I've ever appreciated enough how great it is to be with the people you know and love most. AND to be completely without internet! What a crazy, lovely thing.

On a somewhat completely separate note, today at church Rachael showed me this quote. I think I read it twelve times. Is anyone getting sick of my heartfelt posts? I sure am. Someday I'll return to the woman I used to be, but for now life is a beautiful, terrifying adventure that I can't ignore. And lucky you, you get to endure it with me!!!!!

"After a while you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul.
And you learn that love doesn't mean security, and presents aren't promises.
And you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes open, with the grace of maturity, not the grief of a child.
And you learn to build all your roads on today because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans, and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you can really endure. That you really are strong, and that you really do have worth. And you learn, and you learn, and you learn. With every goodbye, you learn."

Isn't that lovely? It made me re-excited about being alive. With that said, it's 12:01 and officially MONDAY. Make it a good one friends.

Wednesday, 24 August 2011

my life.

"Hi, I'm Rebbie, I'm new, and I'm incredibly excited to join your team here!!"

"Oh cool, where were you before this?"

"College."

"Really?"

"Yep."

"Where?"

"BYU."

"Oh....Brigham Young? Is that in....?"

"Utah."

"Ahhhhh......."

Wednesday, 10 August 2011

maybe it's midnight and I will regret writing this.

I hope this doesn't come off preachy. I needed to write through my thoughts.

Today I was on the phone with mother and she told me how someone made a comment to her about reading my blog and how I was so lucky to have such an exciting life that seemed so perfect. While I was flattered, and happy I'd tricked someone to think my life is all rainbows and butterflies, I also felt the need to keep it real. If there's one thing I believe in it's authenticity and if there's one thing I hate it's internet-narcissism. So here goes an attempt to steer away from that.

Has the last month been exciting? Yes.

Has the last month meant some giant steps forward in life? Yes.

Has the last month been possibly the hardest of my life? YES.

The other day I mentioned to Rachael how the best part of my day is when my head hits the pillow. As it came out of my mouth I realized I sounded like someone in need of suicide watch. Thankfully, that statement is legitimately due to the intense comfort of my bed, but that being said, I've had easier times.

It's a new kind of lonely here, one I know makes me better but is still painful. It's going from a place of total comfort to a place of complete unknown. It's coming home to a house and not a home. It's meeting a billion people a day and just wishing one of them knew that you hate bananas or you wear fuzzy socks around your house.

Yet while it's been hard, I'd recommend moving away all by your lonesome to everyone in the universe. It took moving to a place where I knew no one to realize how much I'd come to define myself by things that really weren't me. It's the oddest, loveliest kind of simplicity to be alone, basically with yourself and with God.

I don't say any of this as a pity party or out of duty as a cynic, but more because I believe in the reality that no one's life is effortless or ever-glamorous. I believe reality is imperfect and I think that makes it better. I never want to dress my baby in Crew Cuts and I don't trust anyone who looks perfect all the time.

I am so grateful to be where I am right now. I have so many ridiculously amazing opportunities that I hope I'm making the most of. I feel quite confident that after working at this job my propensity to be egotistical will diminish and my offendability will, on a scale of one to ten, reach a zero.

What I have learned in the short time I've been here is that sometimes it takes people asking what you believe to realize why you believe it. It takes moving away to remember how much you love your family and friends. It takes having some idiotic new girl moments to quit taking yourself so seriously. It takes failing a few times to be happy with your best efforts.

Annnnnnd I'm tired. Here's to making this place feel like home.

Thursday, 4 August 2011

Ho-Lee Clow!

So this guy named Lee Clow is kind of a big deal in AdLand.
He's the reason why you buy anything (or everything) Apple makes, why you know about animals like the Energizer bunny or the chihuahua that quieros taco bell. He's been the mastermind behind Chiat for quite some time and I happen to sit right behind his office.


The other day I had a dorky ad person moment when I saw him for the first time and uttered a little gasp. I thought, Holy Cow!
Then I thought, Ho-Lee Clow! and realized I'm in the right job.

Thursday, 28 July 2011

funny and female. feasible?

Today at work two guys showed me a project they're working on (a project which must remain non-disclosed, thank you lawyers) for a car company (which I won't name) and it made me giggle quite a bit. It wasn't a typically comedic brand but the stuff was HILARIOUS.

I got really nostalgic for the days when I could do way funny things like this and call it school. This longing led me to wondering whether it's actually feasible to be female and funny, or whether it's like the WNBA and even women would just plain rather watch boys do it.

It seems this (skill?) would be women's crowning achievement at true equality, and we've made lots of headway lately, thanks to people like Liz Lemon.


But even I, feminist that I am, cannot say we're quite there yet. Case in point--Harvard Sailing team's "boys will be girls" has 3.2 million views, while it's lesser half "girls will be boys" has 1 million. If you haven't watched them, use the links to do so. My money says you'll cringe and give up about halfway through the second one. I did.

I get a little depressed when I realize that all guys really want is for girls to be less funny than them. Because let's face it--the only thing worse than someone being funny on purpose is a girl being funny on purpose. Sigh.

I think it would make some dead suffragettes really happy if we could add the funny merit badge to our sash. Until then, I'll keep laughing at my co-worker's jokes and dream for the day when the glass ceiling will shatter all over his face.
(that was more violent than intended but you know what i mean)

Sunday, 17 July 2011

John Frieda lied.

There have been a few horrid indications of adulthood lately. One of them was not going to the HP7 midnight showing. Even worse than not going to the movie was when I tweeted on July 14th and said, "t minus four days until HP7 comes out and I don't even have a ticket." Shortly thereafter someone corrected me that the movie in fact came out on July 15th. I felt like one of those old people who hasn't heard of the internets.

Another shocking moment was when I put my hair back in a bun the other day to reveal black roots. I kid you not, BLACK. Ok dirty blond but still! What is this?? Gone are the days when my hair was naturally bright blond and I could tell people I only had to color it in the Winter. I thought, "Gee, it sure would be nice to go blonder," which led me to this.


John Frieda to the rescue! This has to work right? They sell it at Target! Plus my sister-in-law used it and her hairs look great. So I tried it. The results were quick, if not terrifying.
I kid you not, John Frieda, I have ORANGE HAIR! ORANGE!!

The only thing to do was to put more in, in hopes that the orange is just a mutation that occurred when the 'blonder' mixed with the blackness of my roots. I looked on the ingredients and it says it contains "citrus and chamomile."

Somewhere, John Frieda sits in a lab squeezing buckets of lemon juice and packets of tea into little yellow bottles and laughs.

I am hoping beyond hope that this can be fixed and I don't look like a foreign exchange student who got hold of some hair dye forever. Until then I will sing the praises of my hairdresser in Utah (who is fabulous and a ridiculous deal and you should all call her-801.380.3334) and rot in my old age.


(ps) I should probably give some sort of life update: I just hit my two week mark in the LA. It feels like three years. Every day after work I go drive somewhere and usually end up lost. It's strange, but since I don't really know where I am, I don't really mind being lost. Usually it results in me discovering some new Winchell's donut shop so I'm ok with it. The other day I discovered Whole Foods and spent $7 on a box of organic grape nuts. Sometimes when I'm stressed I come home and dance around in my living room. There are no mirrors so I have no idea what I look like. It keeps me happy and the neighbors confused. Life is good.

Monday, 11 July 2011

"i think i'm a mermaid. or i was."

I am obsessed with this woman. I have goosebumps, I'm inspired, I will re-dedicate myself to mastering that lunge she does in the Single Ladies video, I will buy anything she sells.


For some reason the video is cut off... If you want to watch it on YouTube, click here.


Tuesday, 5 July 2011

well, i'm alive.


And I live in LA. So weird. I am tired/overwhelmed/happy and exhausted so this will be quick.

I had to blog about a few final events in p-town, most notably seeing HARRY AND THE POTTERS play at the SLC library. I've never been so happy.

(harry potter year 4 with his gryffindor sax)

The band is literally three guys (Harry Potter year 4, Harry Potter year 7, and their drummer) who were struggling to play horrible music and decided one day to rename themselves after the boy who lived. They now sing dorky wizard songs and I suppose make a living touring the country's libraries. Behold the power of branding.

Here is Robbie getting his appropriate t shirt signed, whilst telling Harry Potter year four about his idea for a Wizard Rock band, "Bellatrix and the Crux Hors." They liked it especially for its black leathery undertones.


Robbie, your magic really is real.


I got to help mama babysit these darlings, Emy and Charlie. We went to Seven Peaks and watched way too many movies. Here they are trying on Dad's old glasses.....obsessed.

Gangster Charlie?

My last night in p-town we went out on the lake and I couldn't have asked Mother Nature for a more perfect evening.

Then I drove with my mom and my sis for 12,00000 hours through weekend/holiday traffic with my life packed in two cars.


We painted walls and decorated and laughed and spent a billion dollars at Target and ate dinner sitting on a mattress in the middle of my empty living room.

I will post pictures when the place is looking more photogenic. I love my bedroom but the living room is, for all intents and purposes, a dance studio at this point. The spaciousness and hardwood floors are nice, but hopefully I'll fill it with something sooner or later. I'm realllll excited about decorating this place. Till then, I'm going to bed. Love n' hugz.

Saturday, 18 June 2011

here's to you, pixel snob.

I am positive many of you have heard this story and if so I apologize for repeating it, but I think on an occasion like today it deserves to be told.

This picture was taken after our house burned down in 1988. I am the little baby in the front.

How in the world did this happen, you ask?? Our house was heated by a wood-burning stove at the time, which required the ashes to be sprayed before being put in the garbage can. Unfortunately one night the ashes were a little smoldery and caught our car on fire, which caught its full gas tank on fire, which exploded and caught our house on fire.
Our neighbors called to alert my parents, who had no idea how serious the situation was at first. By the time they got outside they were surrounded by 40-foot flames and I can't even imagine how they were feeling.

As they sat with their neighbors and each other, watching their house burn down and waiting for the fire department, they realized there had been a slight miscommunication--Both my parents thought the other was going to get the baby out of the house....

(I've been told this story many times and every time this part turns to slow motion)
So what does my Dad do? Takes a deep breath and runs inside to rescue his little girl from the fiery flames. Apparently when he got to me I was entirely covered in soot. There was a white outline on my crib from where my body had been laying and when I opened my eyes they were the only thing on my body that wasn't completely black.

Needless to say I am quite grateful to my father. (aren't you?) Not many people can call their Dad their hero in quite so literal a sense, but he's also a hero in lots of other ways.

BOAT HERO: Here he is on some trick skis he wanted to try out.

Don't let the awkward picture throw you--while he's an incredible slalom skier, sometimes he likes to switch things up! The one thing that doesn't change is his prescription yellow goggles and his bullet proof vest of a life jacket.

TENNIS HERO: I don't think I can count how many times he's told me,
a) "Keep your eye on the ball until it hits your racket" and
b) "Have your racket back by the time the ball hits the ground."
I know, Dad!!! I guess I should start doing it so he can stop telling me...

FOOD HERO: When he's around there will be no shortage of delicious food, especially things like fresh fruit and artichoke hearts.

DOCTOR HERO: It's fun to have friends tell me they saw/worked with/were put to sleep by my Dad. They never fail to tell me how kind and at the same time witty he was. His fetish for laffy taffy jokes truly has no bounds.

PIANO HERO: Nothing was more vexing as a child than practicing the piano for hours only to have my dad sit down later and play my piece perfectly on the first try. Sheesh. He has amazing natural talent that unfortunately I didn't inherit.

IMPROVEMENT HERO: I think the man improves in his sleep. I have never met someone who is so diligent at consistently improving in every aspect he can. While I have complained to him on occasion that I just want to coast in stagnant mediocrity for a while, I'm so grateful for his example of never being complacent.

Last but not least, my dad is a PIXEL HERO: More realistically we call him a pixel snob. You better believe he jumped on the Laser Disc train when those things were hot, and since then it's made its way from HD to BluRay to who knows what's next. I could never define the difference between the two and honestly BluRay looks a little too real for me. Say what you will, the man loves his pixels.

I'm so lucky to have been raised by the most hardworking, diligent, and genuine father in the universe! He is an amazing example of humility and love, and I owe him so much more than my life. He cares about his family more than all his hobbies combined times ten and I hope he knows the feeling is mutual.

Happy Father's Day Dadio! Love you much.

Thursday, 16 June 2011

i'm selling my coats.

Welp, I got a job. At TBWA/Chiat/Day in Los Angeles where it's 70 degrees and sunny year round. What in this whole wide world???

While I feel the term 'dream job' is somewhat of an oxymoron, it may be semi-applicable. I was looking over my journal from last year and it's kind of crazy how many times the phrase, "I think I'll apply at Chiat, not that I have a chance but I might as well right?" comes up. I start July 5th. EEEEK.

For those who have no idea what that means or how to pronounce it, here's some stuff they've done.

This spot 'introduced Apple computers to the world' at the 1984 Superbowl.


This was done buy a BYU Alum who is stellar and has been such a help over the last few months and I owe him one of my children, even if I end up adopting them at 40 and single.


This was done last year and is cool because I will most likely be working on Pepsi...


And here's a snapshot of the agency. You can skip through the first part but it's pretty great.


This is obviously just a snippet of their work but I think they're cool. Sometimes when I tell people where i'm working they think I'm swearing or saying a naughty word of sorts. It's pronounced shyyy--uttt--day, so there you are.

As the last few weeks have feen spent between the King Henry pool, Seven Peaks and Utah Lake, I'm more than expecting a swift kick in the face from adulthood when I start working full time, especially since in this industry and at this agency full time is more like infinite-over-time. It's really strange to think I'm leaving Zion!! Leaving my home, my friends and everything that I know and is comfortable. Sigh. I'm full of a billion emotions but mostly just overwhelmed.

As for moving to LA, i'm feeling pretty good. Tanner is convinced I will be a Lakers fan by next season, and while nothing would be nicer for a Jazz fan than jumping on that bandwagon, I don't think he understands the hatred we are raised to feel. I'll most likely be living in Santa Monica so if anyone's been there, could you let me know what it's like? I'm going down this weekend for the first time ever, so let's hope I find a place to live.

I may or may not have read a book by Liz Gilbert and may or may not be treating her words as scripture right now:

"I've come to believe that there exists in the universe something I call "The Physics of the Quest"- a force of nature governed by laws as real as the laws of gravity or momentum. And the rule of the Quest of Physics maybe goes like this: "If you are brave enough to leave behind everything familiar and comforting and set out on a truth-seeking journey, and if you are truly willing to regard everything that happens to you on that journey as a clue, and if you accept everyone you meet along the way as a teacher, and if you are prepared-most of all-to face and forgive some very difficult realities about yourself, then truth will not be withheld from you."

Here's to a new adventure, Lizzy Gilbert. Here's to eating and praying and loving (?) every bit as much as you did. Before this gets too epic, I'll end by saying...
I have a feeling the next little bit of my life is going to be insane.
I feel so incredibly lucky to be doing what i'm doing.
I am so terribly sorry for whoever has had to deal with me lately, heavens knows I've been completely self-absorbed.
I will miss P-town like crazy....slash I hope I never want to come back :)

Monday, 13 June 2011

shportants.

I just remembered that this invention exists.


Mankind thought it was so smart until it realized how dorky it looked in the meantime. Baha!

I remember at my 6th grade science fair Garrett Mckay came up with the same idea. He called them "shpants." If only he'd had a good patent lawyer before they showed up in department stores. Sigh.

Searching "zip off pants" on google images produces possibly the frumpiest set of results I have ever seen. 6.8 MILLION OF THEM, I might add.

Like if you wanna wear one pant and one short you can do that.

Or if you're a cop and you still wanna wear your shpants, you can do that.

Or if you're gothic but you wanna wear some shpants you can do that too.


Cabela's come with a very informational picture. Here is their product description:

Cabelas Guidewear® men's zip off pants are great for travel -- zip off the legs when the sun gets hot, and pack the many pockets with everything from guidebooks to sunscreen and a sacklunch. The waist can gather on a skinny guy, but they're handy travelers. Add atraveler's money belt and you'll be carrying everything you need.
Call me materialistic, but curse the day when I stuff my sacklunch in the pocket of my shpants.

Tuesday, 7 June 2011

and on a lighter note...

Had to share this. Again, proof that real genius exists in the world.


Monday, 6 June 2011

when you're bored, but leaving.

You will wish life had a fast forward button, and then think maybe you'd actually rather have rewind. Pause?

You will go to the gym. As the class is getting out you’ll think I don’t have time to stay for sit-ups and then you’ll realize you could actually stay all day.

You will find yourself at the mall. Your friend who works at Nordstrom will comment at how she keeps seeing you there and you will realize hey, I should stop this materialistic habit before i become all materialistic.

This will make you think about all the people you could have helped with all your free time and you will feel guilty. You will think about Serving Someone and start making a list of who/how you could serve.

You will remember when you were little and you made the mistake of telling your mom you were
bored and she said you could help her vacuum the stairs if you're that bored.

You will think about your friends who have babies who probably wish they were bored sometimes and you will try to take advantage of being bored because once you have babies you probably won’t be bored ever again.

You will realize at some point that the reason you are so agitated with boredom is because you are out of the habit. You wish you had been less productive.

You will think about how you should probably call some of your friends to see them because you are leaving soon. You will think actually maybe it’s better to stop seeing them now so you can get used to it. You wonder if they will miss you when you're gone. You will know it's immature but you will kind of somewhat hope they will be sad.

You will suddenly never know what to wear. You will stand in front of your closet, not caring what you look like but having no ability to choose what to put on.

Your monthly Netflix fee will increase in value.

You will remember times when you wished you had just a few minutes to sit and be bored. You will realize that in a month you will be have no time to be bored and you’ll probably wish you could be bored and even when you will be bored, will you have anyone to be bored with?

You will think maybe I should’ve gone on that blind date. Then you will remember how tiring it would have been and that you’d rather be bored.

You will be overwhelmed by all the time you have to finally read books. You will go to the bookstore and buy five books and read a part of each one every day and be frustrated at never finishing them. If you could just finish something.

You will wonder why you keep spelling boredom 'boredome' and realize your brain has possibly, to some degree, ceased functioning.

You will be trapped inside your head and think too much. You will wonder how you can show up to your job way creative. Maybe you should think weirder. Maybe you should watch some obscure films. Maybe you should get your hipster glasses back even though you got your eyes lasered.

You will realize that the only thing that makes you feel better about being bored is writing about it and then you'll feel grateful you got a job where you could write and then feel scared that what if you actually aren't that good at it.

You will think all this in the space of ten minutes, sitting in your kitchen, wondering what to do next. You will start to do something. And then before you're done you will think it alllll again.

Thursday, 2 June 2011

that one time i got punked by the canadian zoob.

After an adequate healing period, I feel it is finally time for the following episode to be shared with the world.

When you go to BYU, dating is part of the curriculum. I once even had a classmate use as an excuse for not doing his assignment the fact that he "was having a first kiss on a second date." It should probably be said that he wore crocodile boots and I detested his guts, but still you get the point--we date a lot here.

Because dating is such an integral part of a BYU education, I have decided to present you with a little test question:

Which of the following elements does not belong with the others?
a) spaghetti
b) pudding
c) ribs
d) twister
e) food fight
f) date
g) all of the above can be combined to make something romantic and adventurous

If you guessed F, you are correct! If you guessed G, you are either crazy or you are the zoobie who punked me.

Sometimes at BYU people think it's ok to ask strangers out. In my opinion this is never acceptable, unless the stranger happens to be Justin Bieber or something of the sort.

One fateful day, however, on a cold walk home from campus, I was startled by a non-bieber stranger who came up beside me with a chipper, "hey, how's your day goin??" Surprised, I responded and we began to converse. He told me he was thinking of going into advertising, so naturally I got all excited and began telling him the ins and outs of the program. Alas he mistook my enthusiasm for interest and cleverly came back with, "well, maybe we could go on a date and talk about it then?"

What else could I say?

Let it be known that this boy is a totally nice, clean-cut, i'm sure upstanding citizen who will find a great wife someday. I'm just not sure it will be me.
The day of our date (which happened to be April 1st) I received a text from him that said, "Hey, we're going to do some messy stuff tonight, is that ok?"
Messy stuff? Is that a euphemism? Trying to appear cool and low-maintenance, I responded saying I didn't mind getting dirty (not a euphemism) and made some joke about us having a food fight, to which he responded that a food fight would be an accurate mess-level for me to dress for.
Dread! Dread! Fear! Desperate search for excuse!

When we arrived at his apartment it was him, his brother, his sister, and both of their significant others. All five grew up in the same small town in Canada and all five did not laugh at Rebbie's jokes. Likewise, Rebbie did not laugh at theirs.

The first activity was not a food fight but actually its evil step-cousin, the eating contest. The food to be eaten? Spaghetti and ribs, washed down with chocolate milk (common meal in Canadia I presume??) It went like this: The boys went first. They had to sit down at the table and lift their arms up, while the girls reached underneath and shoveled food into their cake holes. Nothing quite like a man with spaghetti slodged all over his face. When it came time for the girls to pig out, I employed acting skills I didn't know I possessed.

I sat down at the table. I lifted my arms. I succumbed to the spaghetti. But after a few bites I felt ill. How do those asians on Coney Island do it? Oh my good heavens!!! For fear of losing my spaghetti, I began to chew politely, much to my competitive date's dismay. I looked up through pasta debris flying through the air. I saw his sister sitting opposite me, her face, hair and ears covered in spaghetti, laughing. At this point I knew I could never make him happy.

After we cleaned things up, he pushed out the table and rolled a giant piece of white contact paper out on the kitchen floor. He retrieved what can only be termed vats of different colored pudding from the fridge. Red, yellow, green, blue. He proceeded to splat dollops of colored pudding on what had now become a twister board. A pudding twister board.

Put your right hand in the yellow pudding!

Put your left foot in the red pudding!

Pudding sludged through our digits and around the paper until eventually it all mixed together to coat the paper in a nondescript greyish paste. Alas, I failed out of the game pretty quickly and watched the remainder from the sidelines. After the men were thoroughly sweaty, red-faced and covered in pudding, the game ended. (I am so sorry I'm still writing this post. I am so sorry if you are still reading it. But the truth must be told.) Wouldn't you know it, that darned Canadian zoobie stood up and yelled, "PUDDING FIGHT!!"

I stood with my arms in the air and let that stranger slather me in pudding. Really, what else could I do? Covering my face, coating my love handles, down the back of my shirt. Pudding.

I left that night feeling like an awful, high maintenance word that rhymes with witch. I have not seen this individual since the incident and looking back now, halfway wonder if it was real life. The fact that it occurred on April 1st has caused many to speculate the nature of his intentions. Did I get fooled? Most definitely. But was it on purpose? He just seemed way too nice (albeit confused) for that to be the case. In keeping with the curriculum, I've decided to give him an A+ for creativity, messiness and innovative means for breaking the touch barrier. As far as other date categories go, I believe I should keep those grades to myself. As thankful as I am to my Alma Mater for such a well-rounded education, I am even more thankful to have left it.

Monday, 30 May 2011

i heart books.

Usually I heart making them. But I've just discovered the beauty of destroying them. Anyone seen these? I want to try.