So it was Christmas.
Just fyi.
I'll sum up my Christmas experience for 2011:

Not great, humbling, or bad. Shocking.
Why so shocking?

1. I realized some people are absolutely ridiculous in every way possible.
Ridiculous I tell you!
I am so darn fed up with people that are just plain lame. I'm now writing a list of people that will never be lame.
Here's my list so far:
1. Heavenly Father
2. Jesus
3. Santa.
4. The Pillsbury Doughboy
5. The guy who made Dr. Pepper
6. ______

You can fill in the blank. Because right now I have no idea who to put there.
OH! The prophet. He can be number six. 
Sorry I forgot about that...

If you think you belong on my list of unlame people. Then you will have to persuade me. Which will take a long time. 
There is just this one person. No they don't know that I'm talking about them. I promise. 
And I just want to tell them to GROW UP and be my friend again... 
That would be golden. 

2. My young women's group went to Salt Lake City to see the sights. Like we've never seen them before.... And I was very spectacle about the whole thing. First thing I did wrong was approach it with a bad attitude. EH. that was bad of me. I know I know. But in previous years when we would go to SLC it would become quite boring. 
But I didn't let people know I wasn't so thrilled about the activity. My mind was quickly changed when I realized how much fun I was having. Here are a couple of picture showing how much fun I had. Can I just say that I am a very overwhelming girl? I would say that I'm an acquired taste. 

Ps. I do not know why I called it a marriage picture instead of a wedding picture.... I may or not be a freak.

3. My father ordered the WRONG hat for dear old Bryce. It was my second pick, so I wasn't angry. And it looked pretty dope on him. HA. Totally said dope. hahaha...

4. I had SO SO SO much fun at my Dad's family party. We had to share a talent. Shocked I pulled out the most pathetic thing in the book. I whipped out my mexi stache smile. Maybe. One day I'll show you. 

5. I received an iPhone 4S. YES. 
So I totally thought I was getting a kindle. I have to admit. I snooped. I looked at my mother's Christmas list. And it said kindle on it for me! Christmas morning. Unwrapped the present. Kindle box. Opened the kindle box. Found a white iPhone.  Let's just say I screamed.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
-White chick. 



So. It's Sunday and I have church in like an hour. I should be getting ready so I can look H.O.T. but instead. I'm sitting on my bed typing this.
I know I should be in the shower right now. But I completely lack motivation. Not even a boy at church is enough motivation for me to get off my butt and walk ten feet into the bathroom.
My mother keeps on yelling up the stairs telling me to wake up and get up.
I am awake, and technically I am up, right? I'm not laying on my bed. So I win.

She just barely barely said: "Sam get in the shower!! What have you been doing?!"
"Umm nothing." Which obviously is a lie. I'm blogging. 

 I know I'll sit here for another good ten minutes until I see that the time is 9:50 and then the anxiety will kick it.

So. What should I talk about for ten minutes?

I am so thrilled.
So so thrilled.

Shoot. I better go. My mom is coming up the stairs! AHHH.

So that was yesterday.
Now it's Monday and I do have a FANTASTIC reason for not finishing my blog right after I got home from church. I was reading the very first book of the Hunger Games. AH. So great. I started it on Saturday and finished it yesterday. I didn't dare start reading the second one because I would have been up all hours of the night last night. So that's why I didn't blog. So sorry.

I have a secret.
I'll share it with you. Only you though.

Everyday when I get home, I throw my hair up, put shorts on, and a giant sweatshirt. Then. If I go and hang out that night I have to change back, redo my hair and make up, and pretend like I never looked like a hobo earlier that day.

Here are some very fantastically blurry photos of me and my brother, Max,  after we got home. Yes. We do this when we are bored. Pathetic? Maybe, but you know you do it too.

So there you have it.

We be family.


Hasta la vista baby.
-Older sister.

Want to know more about my family? Check this out. 



I know I've already posted today. But just a thought. 
People ask me why I blog.
I don't get paid. It's not for a class. And no, my parents don't force me to do it. 
I just love to. CREATE. 
Create laughter.
Create thoughts.
Create smiles.
Create warmth.

I hope that someday. You start to create.
You don't have to be Mormon, Christian, or even religious. 
Just do it. And love what you do.
Because I sure do. 



My stomach is the size of Santa's.

So. Yesterday was my little sister's birthday. She's now 13 and it's bizarre.

How bizarre.
How bizarre, how bizarre

Ooh baby
(Ooh baby)
It's making me crazy
(It's making me crazy)

Every time I look around
(Look around)
Every time I look around
(Every time I look around)
Every time I look around, it's in my face
It's in my face

Please tell me somebody else remembers this song from the 90's. I loved it when I was two-ish.

I love her too much.
She wrote the phrase above ^^^ while my laptop was on my bed and I was off in dream land.
Silly Gracie. I do love you though. No worries.

She's cute. It runs in the family.

Since it was her birthday there was a lot of food, a lot of un-healthy food. And I ate all of it. That was yesterday. And I am still feeling the effects of it. 

  • I'm stuffed, resulting in me looking like Santa.
  • Not only do I look like Santa, I weigh as much as Santa.
  • I'm really tired, and drowsy.
  • I'm REALLY tired. 
  • I think I have a billion and two sicknesses/diseases. I woke up thinking I had a cold and during lunch I thought I had a fever. Seriously? I'm crazy. 
  • Hallucinations have been a regular thing today. Actually, hallucinations isn't the right word. More like stupid moments...  I was sitting there. And I thought: "What is squeezing my foot?" I looked down and realized I was wearing a sock. No comment.
  • I'm seeing fortune cookies everywhere I turn.
One more day.
Till what?
Till the Christmas break!!!!
I cannot contain my excitement. I'm so sick of school. And two weeks away from it sounds pretty darn amazing. I literally cannot spend one more day with my teachers without having the urge of punching them in the face. All they do is give out useless homework that ruin my life. I may be acting a little dramatic..

Oh ya! Remember my Facebook stalking speech?  100% baby. It was great. 

Sorry this is such a short post. But I have a headache and the ruuuuns. (Can anybody name the movie?!)
I don't really have the runs. That's gross. And I sure in heck wouldn't tell you about it. But really, I just have a headache, not the runs. I'm so sorry that I'm a little icky. But really, no runs.

In a while crocodile. 
-Older sister.



That would be my car.

Meaning: Dear, loved one.

Such a fantastic movie.
Anyways this is Darla and me.

I think we look great together.
Other than the fact that I'm twice her size.
She's the Darla to my Alfalfa.
My honk to my horn.
My brake to my gas.
My song to my radio.

Those get old super fast. FYI. 

She has this distinct odor. No. It's not gas, B.O. or Pina Colada. It's.... crayons. Yes, those things you use to color with, they get stuck under your finger nail, and the things that Russel Anderson used to shove up his nose in the first grade. 
That would be the smell of my dear car.
Every time somebody that hasn't experienced my car hops in this is what happens.

Their eyes look around the little space available. 
Take a few sniffs.
Have an awkward pause.
"Does it smell like crayons?"
I glare at them.
"Yes, it does. But I love her, and don't complain."

I've had people get sick because of the smell. And I've had some people absolutely love it. Weirdos... 

She takes diesel. 
And sounds like a truck.
So I just say that she takes steroids that make her sound manly. 
Also. Her horn is super super low. Like a semi-truck in the distance coming through the canyon low. 
Practically, she's a man named Darla.
Kind of like a boy lady bug. But less awkward. 

Do you ever feel bad for boy lady bugs?!
I sure do. A Bug's Life. One of my all time favorites! The lady bug is a boy! And boy is he a pain in the rear end. But if I was a girl with a boy's name I'd feel the same way. Oh wait...

Don't worry I love my name.

It's Sam by the way....

Fear Factor.
Finally it's back!
I used to always find myself giggling when I found a rerun that I could record. I mock those people who eat stupid things all for the love of money! 
But now they have an ALL. NEW. SEASOOOON. I hope you said that super special. Because I know I did. I also moved my head back and forth, it was extremely cute. 
I'm such a nice friend that I let Mr. Bryce come and watch it with me. 
Aren't I the nicest girl in the world?! I know, I know. You can praise me if you reallllly want. 
Actually It came with a price.
The price? 

Can I just say I got the better end of the deal.

Over and out.


Sunday Stalker.

The day you go to church. Or at least, supposed to...
The day you end up doing your homework.
The last day of the week, or the first day of the week.
Is usually ruined by the thought of Monday.
The day to watch football.
No not the dessert. Silly.
The day that Sam gets to wear high heels.

Can I say that I OWN at high heels. I can walk the walk. Let me tell ya.
I'm 5' 9.5". Yes I wear 5" heels. No I don't care that you hate when I wear heels. I love it.
Don't complain about how I'm taller than you. No duh I am. I love wearing them. And Sunday is truly the only day that I can.

This would be me in heels. 
You can't see the heels. But I am in them.
Oh and my family and I have this thing where when ever we see a camera we have our thumbs pop out. I wrote poop instead of pop. No, thumbs don't poop out Sam! Gosh.

Now this is really what it feels like.
I could do anything in heels!
Run, jump, hurdle. I've got it covered! 

Yes. Those are little heels for me. 

I just love them so darn much. 
In fact, they are going on my Christmas list. I'm going to post it soon enough. Don't fret.
I want some sparkly ones.
Ones that blind you with their sparkles. Yup. Those ones.

Sometimes they hurt your feet. 
But sometimes friends hurt your feelings. You learn to forgive. 
My feet have actually become immune to pain resulting from high heels.

Rap I just came up with:
You know those heels?
The ones so high.
Ya they so hot.
They so fly.


I wish I could rap.  Actually. I can rap two songs. And if Taylor Swift had some rap songs, I could probably rap those ones too.

So in Honors English we had to write a speech. She gave us the opportunity to talk about WHATEVER we wanted. Complete freedom in my hands? Booyah. 
Side note:
Last year we had to write a speech. I wrote mine about verbal abuse, and can I just say it rocked?! I was docked a point because of how I was dressed. My teacher was super conservative and I guess a lepord print tight pencil skirt did not please her... But other than that. It was awesome!

So I was tempted to just use mine from last year. Kind of a heavy topic and super personal for me. But heck, it was a great speech. So being a good student and all I didn't do what my evil side wanted to do. I ended up writing a whole speech on Facebook stalking. 

On Friday during class, some kids gave their speeches. 
99 percent of them were serious. Ask me if I am nervous to be the black sheep with the non-serious speech. Yes, well kinda not really. I guess I was expecting it. 
Some girl talked about love.
Another about cancer.
Then comes Sam.

"Hi. Um. My speech is about Facebook Stalking."


I have to present it to the class on Tuesday. 
What a joke.

You may be wondering why randomly I jump from high heels to Facebook stalking. 
Because. I think I have one.
I'm not threatened. Just concerned for my life. Wait. Say what?

Within a week, if I don't post again you will know what happened to me.
Call the cops. Tell them I've been kidnapped by a Facebook stalker. 
And tell everyone that my life has been ruined by Facebook.
Then sue Facebook.
Then Facebook will try to find me so they aren't sued for so much mula.
Then when they find me. 
I'll post again. Don't worry.

I'm going to put alarms around my house.
And I'll wear heels so I can kick them and puncture their calves. Gross...

If I don't return, avenge my death!
-Girl on the go.



My day.

Sam #1:
I wake up. That instantly throws my day into a pit of despair. But Sam, you wake up every morning! Way to state the obvious. I just somehow pull my body out of this lonely pit at around noon. So waking up ruins my morning. Sometimes I wish that I could just stay put in my warm, brightly colored bed with Shamu. Don't worry, I'm not being a scandalous lady. Shamu is a whale. A fake one... Usually I fall asleep in the shower. Yes, It is possible, I do it almost every single morning. Just put your head against the wall, and BAM, you have now mastered the talent of fake narcolepsy. After rushing to get to school I either have AP Biology or Chemistry. Really? Both science classes, both hard, both stupid. Dun dun dunnn. The pit of despair is now filled with spiders or some sort of creepy thing, maybe clowns, or vice principals.... After that I have a ton of boring classes. So Sam #1 resides in my body until noonish. Tip: Stay away from Sam #1. She will rip your head off or completely ignore you. Hopefully it is the second one, for your sake.

Sam #2:
I'm floating on cloud nine. My last class for BOTH days are super easy. Resulting in a pretty happy Sam. I often ponder during Sam #2 time. I usually don't have a lot on my mind to ponder about though, so I sit back and dream about Dr. Pepper rivers streaming through hills made out of Ben and Jerry's Ice cream. Sounds pretty darn wonderful doesn't it? 

Sam #3: 
This Sam is a blast. Just saying. I often transform into Sam #3 right after school. I usually find myself singing very very loudly. Just imagine your fat grandmother siting on top of a goat, and the sounds coming from the goat's mouth is better than what I sound like. But I don't care! I feel unstoppable! Usually this is when stupid things come out of my mouth, unfortunately.I spelled unfortunately correct the very first time without a dictionary or spell check. Winner? I think YES! One thing you should know about me. I don't have a filter. If I think about it, I will say it. No matter what it is. I just vomit out everything that is inside my brain. Ew. Sometimes my brain vomit humors people. And sometimes people get extremely offended. And sometimes I deserve a good punch in the face for what I say. I'm trying to start thinking before I speak. It doesn't work for me.

Go to the store and buy eggnog Creamies. You will thank me later.

Sam #4:
Sam #4 comes out at night. I think about what has happened throughout the day, resulting in a very fickle Sam. Sometimes I cry, but mostly I laugh. I laugh at all the ridiculous things that happened to me. I'll tell you what I'm laughing about right now.

Coming home from the Utah State Developmental Center I see that Darla is about to die of thirst. In panic I search for money anywhere possible. Pockets, seats, bras. A bra is made to hold things. Thus, my phone being constantly in my bra. Be disgusted. I don't care. It's a fantastic spot for things. After ten minutes of rummaging through my car I find 12 dollars. I park Darla in front of a little pump thingy. What are they called? Blonde moment anyone? I see that the cashier is sweeping and I assume that it is closed. So ever so slyly I poke my head in. The cashier looks up, and smiles at me. 

This dude is probably 20. And not bad looking. At all. He started talking to me, about my car and school. I do get the feeling that he is hitting on me. Not to be conceited, but he was. After a couple of minutes and a goodbye I walk towards the door. "Have a good night!" He hollers and I turn my head towards him for two seconds. 
Two seconds later I was getting to know the door a lot better. I didn't look up. I just kinda booked it out to my car. It hurt. And I broke a blood vessel on my hand if you want proof. 

So now. I'm sitting here. Laughing about how dumb I am. Thank goodness I'm not THAT easily embarrassed. Thank goodness I don't care about what other men think about me. Thank goodness I'm Sam.
So Sam #4 made some Orange Juice. And boy do I love orange juice. Except my family downs it in about three hours. And I'm sick of it. Solution? 

If your eyesight is not choice, the tape has: Sam's oj. Written on it. Booyah.
Smartest thing I've ever done.
Dang. I should have spit in it too.
Just for the extra security.
I guess you could say Sam #4 is the inspired Sam.
Orange juice with tape and spit?! Brilliant.



Just a kiss.

I am so sorry.
I feel like I have deserted you. and for a matter of fact. I know I have.
I wish I had some amazing excuse why it has almost been a week since my last post. But I'm going to be honest. And say I don't. Because... I don't. Make sense?
Oh goodness.

Boys are weird. Really weird. Thus they are attracted to weird people. So that gives you, me. An exceptionally weird girl that weird boys are attracted to. Please don't think I'm saying that I am the hottest girl alive and if they are male, they are obsessed with me. Because I'm not, at all. I'm just saying, some interesting people tend to like yours truly.

I may seem semi normal.

And boys fall for that.
Just like you did.
You are thinking:
Give Sam a camera and she will be like every other human being and take a fantastically awkward picture of them smiling. 
This is exactly what happens to little people of the male gender. Oh. Sam seems like a pretty normal girl. No.
Surprise! This is what you really get.

You really get some pretty interesting pictures. Slightly embarrassing. Yes. But I'm chill. I know I can't say chill. I'm trying to be cool. Please forgive my absurdity.
If we put this into the context of boys liking me. They finally have a moment of realization. Sam scares me.
Boys oh boys. What am I going to do with you?

Sometimes. Silly boys have this epiphany and do nothing about it. They ignore it, exactly how I ignore my math teacher's constant blabing about parabolas. They choose to be eh-okay with my... originality. Poor boys. 

Strangest things that have ever happened to me ever concerning the humans with a lot of testosterone:

1. Get this. We are sitting there. I asked him what he wanted to do. With an ever so slow head turn our eyes met, brown. My favorite. And as my dear dear dear friend would call it, poop color. Though I completely disagree. Feeling awkwardly comfortable, I waited for a reply. His glance kept on bouncing back between my eyes and my lips and I could just feel his nerves. Nothing was said. He started to say something that no boy should ever say. An "ever so smooth" look upon his face came extremely close to mine. "I want to do this" regretfully fell out of his mouth.  His head moved in. I want to do this, I want to do this.  Replayed inside my head over and over within milliseconds. Moments away from his "first" kiss. (A girl had kissed him, but he never made the first move.) Laughter came out of my mouth. I was laughing hysterically while he sat there ever so quietly. Did I feel bad? Yes. Was it funny? HECK YES.

2. Thursday. Yes. Thursday. A week day. I know. Okay. Our school had this charity thing and on Thursday it was Kids in the Cold. Pretty much we stood outside waving signs around until we got an X amount of money for the charity. It was about 11 pm. Austin and I were driving around after the little "freeze our butts off" charity work.  Somehow we started talking about my balcony that is connected to my room. He kept on saying how he thinks he would be able to climb the vines up it. It's winter darling. They are dead. Still being a boy and all, his confidence was through the roof. (Did I mention he is a sophomore. And about two inches shorter than me?) He also assumed that as soon as he got to my balcony I would plant one right on his kisser. I'm not sure why he thought this. When we got there I had to go inside to pee. I drink a whole lot of water. I'm constantly peeing...not gonna lie. He was standing under my balcony contemplating how to master the vines. So I thought he would be okay for a minute outside alone. *A minute later* I walk out. Bam. Austin's gone. Worried. I called his phone. Before he picked up I heard a little noise. I looked up onto my roof and saw him. Please keep in mind my roof is one of the steepest that I have ever seen. Resulting in my house being a loner without lights during Christmas. Lame. He somehow climbed onto my roof. Half monkey? Probably. From the roof he got to my balcony. I had to let him through my room to get out of my house. At midnight. On a weeknight. No. He never received a kiss.

Oh the things boys do for a single kiss!

I went to Trafalga with my dearest friend. Bryce. Trafalga is a a mini golf place with games, laser tag, and hand sanitizer. My personal favorite. Second round of mini golf we decided to bet. We didn't know what the stakes were, but we didn't want to lose. Unless you were Bryce. He made it painfully obvious that he wasn't going to let me lose. Did I sit there and laugh at him while he "bumped" my golf ball closer to the hole? Yes. I did. Stop being so nice! I'm a tough girl. I can lose. But I was grateful that he cared so much. Did I win? No. Did he say I won? Yes. Who is right? me. Definitely me. We did those little arcade games. Those silly ones that rip you off. The one he was obsessed with? Push a button that drops a ball into some holes with the allotted amount of tickets above him. Jackpot was in his sight. And he was a tiger ready to reach his goal. He would push the button and watch the ball drop, his eyes glowing with the color filled lights coming from the game. He resembled a little kid at a candy store. Or a pervert at Victoria's Secret. I prefer the first one. But it was great. Four dollars later we landed 206 tickets. Booyah. Can I also say that we played laser tag and he was saying how wonderful he was at it before hand. Did I beat him? You can bet your little button I did! He will never live it down.

See. Bryce is at the phase where he thinks I am somewhat normal. As soon as his moment of realization kicks in he will run for hills. I'm going to start taking bets on it.

Na na na na. Hey Hey Hey. Goodbye.

Ps. I bet you sang that goodbye didn't you.