Life. Better.

There are a very few network TV shows I can watch without rolling my eyes into oblivion. Unfortunately, most of the shows I enjoy are the shows to get canceled after a while ala Pushing Daisies and Arrested Development. [insert sad face]

Better Off Ted is my new favorite this season. It's clever and witty and hysterically off-beat. Cross your fingers for this one. I don't think I can bear the disappointment of another cancellation.

I hope these clips are as funny to you as they are to me. I honestly can't stop chuckling. Lem is my favorite character. Who's yours?






Sorry. Just one more!

How Salt Lake's Road Construction Works (I'm absolutely certain this is true.)

Construction Guy #1: We need to do some work on a 3-foot patch of road.

Construction Guy #2: Okay. First step is to block off traffic for a mile in each direction.

#1: Really? One mile?

#2: Oh, you're right. Better make it two.

#1: That's more like it. And just one lane?

#2: Hells bells*, no! All but one.



Three months after road work is complete . . .

#2: Hey, did we ever send someone out to pick up those cones?

#1: Idk. Prolly.*


_________________________________________________

*I'm convinced construction workers talk like this.

And people think I'm odd . . .

I think many names of diseases would be lovely names for women. Just think about it: chlamydia (beautiful, right?), jaundice (just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?), bronchitis, leukemia.

Just think about it for a second. If you didn't know that they were horrible disease and you just heard the word, they could totally pass for names.

"Hello, I'm Jaundice."

"Lovely to meet you, Jaundice. I'm Cholera and this is my sister, Ebola."

"I'm pleased to know you. Shall we go meet Influenza?"

"Yes! I hope she brought little Herpes, too."

"Me too. Herpes is just as cute as my little Diarrhea."



Oh, geez. I just broke my personal "no diarrhea jokes" rule.

TMI Tuesday

I've had several requests for another installment of Too Much Information Tuesday and I am nothing if not accommodating.


Fact: While at dinner last week, I hit on one of my friends. (My apologies, Paul.)

Fact: A few nights ago, I fell asleep spooning with another friend. (Sorry 'bout that, Jake.)

Conclusion: This dating dry spell of mine needs to end pretty darn soon.

In other news, looks like it's a great time to be my friend, gentlemen. *wink*

First Impressions

I met a woman the other day and within ten minutes of being introduced I had:

1. suggested she have a cage-fight with another girl and

2. told her about that time I went cow-tipping on a date and ended up making out with the guy in the back of his truck.


Basically, I don't know where the "appropriate conversation topic" line is. Oh, Miss Manners, what you must think of me! (Guys, I love Miss Manners. Perhaps a little too much. Actually, not "perhaps." Really, too much.)

My Life is Now Complete

My mother said, "Fo' sheezy!" today while we were talking on the phone.



Love, love, love it.

Shelly-Shelly

Michelle Leigh Raynor is my youngest sister. She is sixteen. Ack! Can you believe it? 16? Ick. I don't like how old you are, dearie.

Shelly is silly and fun (whaddaya expect from a Raynor?).

Shel loves her family and her friends fiercely and unconditionally (and also Zac Efron). She is a great big sister to her younger brothers.
She also has a low tolerance for stupidity. Here we see her classic "you're an idiot" look. I get this look a lot.
But at the end of the day, she's my best buddy. Love ya, sis!

Crime & Punishment

We had a flood at school recently. It was caused by an eight-year-old who's dang lucky he'll see his ninth birthday because I almost killed him when I caught him red-handed, purposefully overflowing the boys' bathroom. Again.

That is the second time to-date I've sworn at a child.

Walking down the hall, another teacher and I noticed water all over the floor with no apparent source. I solemnly whispered, "Perhaps we have a basilisk." (Lady didn't even laugh. I'm so sick of associating with people who've discarded juvenile fantasies.)

I trailed the water to the source and found my little friend MacGyvering the toilet to continually run water without emptying the bowl. It was a pretty clever jerry-rig and I would've given the kid props on the whole contraption if it wasn't, ya know, destruction of school property and a serious offense and what the h were you thinking, kid?

Also, if you've ever wondered if I can strike fear into the hearts of children with a single glance and pretty much scare the ever-loving shiz out of them, turns out yes! Resoundingly so.

When I grabbed his shoulder and spun him around to face my gritted teeth and steely glare, I saw it: the sheer, unabashed terror of a trapped animal.

"Mr. ****," I hissed softly, "Get down to my office right now and if you're not there in exactly thirty seconds I'm coming after you and, I promise you, that will. not. be. pretty."

Off he ran, leaving his sphincters behind.

Chuckling, I turned to the other teacher and said, "Will you go find the janitor? I need to go yell at a kid now."

And a yelling it was. I’m usually the kindhearted and compassionate teacher. I give hugs and cuddles and tenderly kiss their owies and, when they misbehave, we talk about our feelings and together make a deal to do better next time. Yes, it’s all very rainbows and cupcakes. But this kid flooded the freaking bathroom and his scolding will go down in the annals of history, I swear.

I passed the kid on the stairs the next day and recognized the wave of dread wash over his face as he saw me but I winked at him as I walked by and said, "What's up, bud?" and he grinned so we're still friends.

Got to keep up my reputation as a pushover somehow. But I have been practicing my scary teacher looks in the mirror. They're a pretty handy tool to have.

Let's Go Exploring!

Last night, during one of my organizing-of-the-clutter rampages, I spent a little time down in our basement. Basements are a curiosity to me; they don't have 'em where I grew up and they've always seemed to me a foreign and magical world, ripe for exploring. Turns out, you can discover a lot in basements.

I discovered that when my roommate told that cute, outdoorsy guy in the ward she "totally would be into fishing because [she's] always wanted to do that," she wasn't kidding.
I discovered what my roommate reads in her free time.
I discovered that no one in this house is allowed to buy another lamp.
I discovered why I always get the creepy feeling that someone is watching me when I'm doing my laundry.
I discovered that no matter how many times my roommate tells me this chair "totally went with the theme of the room," I will never stop snickering at it.

I discovered this thing. Upon inspection, I found it to be a ceramic planter. My first thought when I saw it, however, was "chamber pot."
I discovered what people needed to survive in 1962. I was disappointed to find this was empty.
I discovered my roommate is one of the eight people who enjoyed She's All That enough to purchase the VHS.
Partial Basement Inventory

Vacuums: 2
Lamps: 6
Microwaves: 2
Christmas Trees: 5
Chairs/Stools: 17
Televisions: 4
Kitchen Tables: 2
Foosball Tables: 1
Containers of Laundry Detergent: 7
Cans of Paint: 22


What's in your basement?

"You Look Tired"

Some idiot says this to me today: "Geez, Kim, you look so tired!"

Really?

"Thanks! Hey, your ass looks especially huge today. Nice 'n saggy, too!"



No, I didn't say that. I just thought it.

What I said was, "Oh really? You look like someone who's about to get punched in the head."



IT'S OFFICIAL, FOLKS. I just don't care anymore.

My Guy, Brian

Good ol' Brian Eric Raynor is my thirteen-and-a-half-year-old brother. He is just the bee's knees. Brian is the musically-inclined Raynor. He plays the trumpet, the guitar, the clarinet, the piano and one other instrument which I can't remember right now. Someone help me out . . . ah, I'll remember later. Basically this kid can play anything he picks up.

He is also an incredible athlete. He plays soccer (dare you to find one Raynor who doesn't play soccer) and softball. He also beats me at basketball every time I come visit. Brian, next time I'm bringin' my A-game and you are going down! Maybe.

SAXOPHONE! That's the one I forgot. He plays that, too.

Brian is a smart one as well. Mom claims he's her brightest kid, but she made me promise not to tell the other ones. (I won't tell them, Mom.) Brian is an awesome example to his other siblings. He's probably the nicest kid I've ever met and is a good friend to everyone. He's also WAY righteous. Like unusually so. The kid goes out of his way to be good. Just 'cause. I know, mind boggling.

Brian, you are awesome! Love you so much it's kind of nauseating!

Women's Trouble Wednesday

So guys, let's talk about PMS.

A lot of women get testy during Special Week. That's not really my MO. Sure, I get a little on edge but I can usually control that particular side of my mental state which is a pretty good thing. Otherwise you might see on the news "Dozens injured when woman attacks East High students with a two-by-four while shouting, 'Why don't they just LOOK before crossing the street? And why do they take so freakin' long to walk across two lanes? WHY?'"

No, that's not my problem. I get rather irrational during Special Week. "What?" you say. "But you're usually so rational all the time!" I know, I know. It can be quite a shock.

How am I irrational? So glad you asked . . .

Yesterday I heard my boss approaching my office door and for some reason (I can't remember now) I didn't want to talk to her SO . . . I hid under my desk until she walked away. I freakin' kid you not. Me, a grown woman in my skirt and heels, curled up in a ball under my desk to avoid talking to someone. Yeah, I did. Because it seemed like such a judicious thing to do at the time.

And for some reason I was irritated at all the school zones on my morning commute today and shouted, "Why do we even have school zones? Look, if these kids don't know any better than to avoid speeding vehicles, they're idiots and deserve to get hit by a car!" Yes, I said these things. About children.

Luckily, Irrational Kim sticks around for exactly two days so she'll be gone tomorrow. Today, though, she's here in full force which is why I'm sucking down Diet Dr Pepper like it's oxygen and rocking back and forth in my chair while my eyes dart around at every sound like those of a frightened feral child.

Yep, today's gonna be a great day.

'Sup, Doc?

I had my annual physical recently. Turns out my cholesterol has gone down a few points which is surprising considering my regular diet of lard and chalupas. Blood pressure's gone up a tad, although this might be stemming from the fact I've taken to injecting caffeine directly in my eyeballs.

Maturity

The guy speaking in church yesterday said "prostate" when he meant "prostrate" so that was pretty cool. My buddy Keith and I were the only ones giggling behind our hymnbooks because, apparently, we were the only twelve-year-olds in the congregation.

And if you're wondering if I can eat 2/3 of a bag of Reese's Pieces by myself the answer is maybe, but also yes.

Happy Easter

I usually don't go into much detail about my faith on this ol' blog but on this Easter morning, you'll have to forgive me going all Mormony on you.

I know that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and the Savior of the world. I know that He lived and died that we all might live again. Christ is the embodiment of love and compassion and kindness. He knows us and He loves us. He is my day and my night, my whole world. I am nothing, nothing without my Redeemer. Wishing you all a wonderful Easter!



Not into Jesus? That's okay. Here's a horrifying website to look at instead. Enjoy!

The Great Andrew

My youngest-save-two and oldest-save-three brother is Andrew Cole Raynor. Andrew is eleven and pretty awesome (bless me, takes after his big sis). I hope the other siblings won't be upset when I say that Andrew is the funniest Raynor. By far. This kid is a riot. He likes lots of things, including:

PIZZA,

SPORTS,

ME,
THE BEACH,
LAUGHING AT HIS ELDER SISTER'S ANTICS,
(Let's face it, though. She's pretty hilarious.)
AND MAKING BUNNY EARS ON ME.
I, on the other hand, enjoy having a double chin. Hubba-hubba! Ow,ow!

Andrew, you are the cat's meow. I'm so happy to be your sister.

P.S. When I talked to you on the phone on Tuesday I totally heard you fart even though you denied it and, dude, that was gross.

I quantify how much I am loved based on the number of followers of my blog.

You may think your mother loves you, but is your mom a follower on your blog?

Mine is. Twice.


I'm just saying.

Some News

I distrust men who use excessive exclamation marks.

In other news, my boss asked me today if Mormons like baked potatoes. I told her the Church is still on the fence about the issue.

In other other news, someone asked me if I knew what the brachial plexus is and I asked if that was "some kinda dinosaur." P.S. It's not.

In still other news, dude, my mom is so freakin' cute.

Dear American Consumers:

I love Alla Tsank a lot. Her work is lovely. But I cannot afford Alla Tsank.

So I buy from theblackapple. Because I can afford theblackapple, and it's quite nice as well.



Do you understand what I'm saying?

Bedroom Quandry

I'm thinking of buying new bedding.

BUT:

If I buy new bedding, I'll have to buy new sheets.

And if I buy new sheets, I'll have to get new curtains.

And if I get new curtains I'll have to repaint the walls.

And if I repaint the walls, I'll have to move all my stuff downstairs.

And if I have to move all my stuff downstairs, I'll need some big strong guys to help me.

And if I get help from big strong guys, I'll need to show my appreciation by having them over for dinner.

And if I have them over for dinner, I'll have to cook something amazing.

And I just don't feel like cooking right now.

Confession

Sometimes I wish my life was a musical because then my penchant for breaking into song at random times wouldn't be so alarming to passers-by.

Secrets

Sometimes I wish my blog was anonymous so I could share some of my secrets here and not be embarrassed when I bumped into people who read my blog. Secrets I would never tell people in real life. Things like:

You know those headbands with the big giant flowers that people put on their baby girls? I think they look really stupid. Really really stupid. And I feel kinda bad because everyone puts them on their kids and everyone else thinks, "Aw! How cute!" and I think, "That baby looks stupid."

I have a friend who is just a darling. Super sweet and never has anything negative to say and is simply a wonderful person. And sometimes I just want to punch her just a little. Right in the face.
I think pretension is one of the most annoying qualities in people and I fear I'm really pretentious sometimes.

I judge people who are bad parents. I know I don't have any kids and so people say, "Well, you can't make any judgements until you do," but I know a helluva lot about child development and developmentally appropriate practice and therefore I will judge. you. all. BWWAH-HA-HA!

I watch smutty Lifetime movies. And I'm horribly ashamed of it.


Yes, these are all things I would never tell people.

Mysteries in My Life, part 3

How on earth does our garbage can fill up so quickly? What phenomenon is at fault for the constant overflowance (a word? not a word?) of trash?

Are there people sneaking into the house and unloading their refuse on us? Are my roommates digging a tunnel out of the house and concealing the dirt in the kitchen garbage*?


The world may never know.



*I wouldn't put it past 'em. Buncha weirdos.

Thank heavens for Tivo.

This weekend is General Conference.

But it is also Lovers and Liars Weekend on Lifetime Movie Network.



Decisions, decisions.

Sweet Nathan

Nathan Dwight Raynor is my second-to-youngest brother. He is nine years old as of today! Happy birthday, darling Nate!

Nate loves playing soccer and reading adventure stories. He likes working on Scouting and jumping on the trampoline. (He can totally show me up on backflips, by the way.) He also likes Star Wars, wrestling, pizza, the color green, and performing science experiments.

When Nate was about 2, he came into the bathroom where Mom was washing up. She had just cleaned all the hair out of her hairbrush and tossed it into the commode. Nate walked over to the toilet, lifted the lid, stared down into the bowl, s-l-o-w-l-y lowered the lid and whispered, wide-eyed, "What...was...THAT?" I love hearing Nathan tell that story because he always starts giggling halfway through and can barely get through the end.


My dad's favorite thing about Nathan is his obedience and his kindness. My mom's favorite thing about Nathan is his goodness and his intellect. My favorite thing about Nathan is his sweetness of spirit and his loyalty and friendship.

Nate, happy birthday! We love you!

A Lesson on Conversation Segues

We've all been there: the lull in a conversation. Maybe you've exhausted your body of information about the subject at hand. Maybe someone has made a conclusive statement and you find yourself at a loss for a response. Whatever the reason, a lull means it's time for a new topic. But how, you might ask, does one begin a new topic in a conversation? The answer, of course, is by implementing a segue.


Here are a list of examples of things you could say when you're ready to begin a new subject: (All these examples come from personal experience, i.e. I've actually said all of these things in recent conversations with other humans. I'm so not making this up.)



"So, you heard about Hitler, huh? Man, that's messed up."



"You know that one part in Braveheart when William Wallace's wife is killed? Dude, that part is so freakin' sad."



"What is up with musical theatre anyway?"




What do you do in a conversation lull?

Slip of the Tongue

General Conference is coming up this weekend (woot! woot!), so it's about time for me to soften my hardened heart and loosen my stiff neck and everything that entails. I tell ya, it's not easy to be humble when I'm this amazing. But we all have our crosses to bear, right?

To help myself prepare for General Conference, I've been listening to old Conference addresses on my iPod at work this week. (This one is really good.) I thought this was a pretty unobtrusive activity until my office phone rang just as one of the talks was concluding. Rather than answering with a mundane "hello," I picked up the phone and brightly greeted the caller with a cheery "Amen?"


After the conversation ended (and after assuring the caller he must have misheard me because I said "hello" like a rational human and perhaps he should get his ears checked), I collapsed on my desk in a fit of giggles. I called my mother straightaway to provide her with another installment of "Stupid Things Your Daughter Did." We're thinking of compiling them into a book. I think we've got fodder for a few volumes already.