I am what you call "Super Classy".

I have mastered the art of the super-high messy bun paired with a headband. It's pretty much the only position in which my hair resides on weekends. And nights. And whenever I don't do my hair for work. And some afternoons when it's hot. Saturday mornings when I don't feel like, ahem, showering  I'll just tousle hair into said hairstyle and slap on a pair of dark glasses. There! Ready to run errands*!










*Going to 7-11 for a morning Gulp is considered an errand, right?

Reason #29 Why Kim is a Very Useful Friend

I know the meanings of gang/prison tattoos.

The other day my roommate and I were out shopping (at Walmart, where else?) when we passed a guy with several tattoos.


"Omiword!" I whispered, "That guy has totally killed someone!"

"What?! How do you know?" she asked.

"Um, look at that tattoo. You only get that if you've whacked someone!"
 

She didn't entirely believe me until we went home and looked it up on Wikipedia (ha! nerds). When I was proven correct, she awed at my extensive street knowledge. I didn't mention that the only reason I know this stuff is because I've seen Con Air like 20 times.

But still—valuable information to have, amiright?

Birthday Week!

Isn't is sad that as one gets older, one is expected not to make such a fuss over one's birthday? And one is expected to just let is pass without much fanfare except maybe a passing, "Oh, it is my birthday." And when one demands special treatment for one's birthday one is seen as a lunatic, to say nothing of demanding it for an entire week month.

Well, one can't always do what is expected, can one?

I think I'm about the luckiest person in the world because I live with Gretchen who happens to own the birthday the very day before my own. And so I am at liberty to suggest outrageous things to do all the while claiming, "But it's for Birthday Week!" and then in a confidential whisper, "It's what Gretchen wants to do." And I get away with doing whatever I want while appearing like the very soul of charitableness and long-suffering as I sacrifice my birthday for Gretchen's. It's quite alarming how much I enjoy this!

"You said what now?" Gretchen demands.

Birthday Week this year included:

A date with Lizzy!

Turkey sandwiches with mustard! 

(Have I ever mentioned my deep and undying love for this delicious yellow substance?)

A food processor which has been formally dubbed Sir Reginald Choppington III! (Thanks, parents!)

Riding around in an automobile! And making pig noises!

Dinner with the roommies where I accidentally elbowed our waiter in the crotch and then he "forgot" to bring me another Diet Coke!

Game night where we played my very favorite game and through which I discovered that all my friends are really smart and they don't let me win. Not even on my birthday.

A couple of my favorite guys cementing their place into my All-Time Favorite People Ever by giving me a giant box of butter for my birthday! More on that later, be assured,  because it is my belief that the gift of a giant box of butter deserves its own post. And who could disagree with that?

And what could a girl ask for more than this, I wonder?

Summertime Blues

Does this summer seem to be slipping away before it even began? It's August, y'all. And I haven't even lain by the pool and read People once! How is that even possible?

Where are my lazy summer days? School starts in two weeks and I haven't even begun to relax yet! I demand a re-do! I call "interference"! I want my summer back!





One more time, Chandler Bing-style: Could this summer BE going any faster?

I Believe

My boss and I discuss religion regularly but I think she gets really frustrated with me. I can tell she tries to goad me into an all-out battle-of-the-denominations but I'm not having it. (Pretty odd because I'm certainly feisty about everything else.)

See, she's a Bible-thumping, cross-wearing, Praise-the-Lord!-saying, true-blue valiant Christian. And I'm a Mormon. (Can ya tell how fun it is here? Can ya?) She loves making little passing comments about my faith and then reminding me that if I ever want to "really know Jesus" I am always welcome to her Bible study group. I nod and tell her that sounds interesting and then I change the subject. I think to a lot of people that looks like a cop-out on defending my faith and a missed missionary opportunity.

But guess what?  




(Are you ready for my big confession?)





(Really?)




I don't care who's Mormon and who's not. I don't care if you're Jewish or Muslim or Buddhist or Unitarian or whatever. (Yeah, I guess I'm not cut out to be a missionary.) I don't care if you believe in Prop 8 or global warming or that Spongebob Squarepants is real. I don't care if you believe in magic or ghosts or lolcats. I don't care what you believe.

I really love Dan Brown. One of my favorite of his books is Angels & Demons where you'll find this:

"Skepticism has become a virtue. Cynicism and demand for proof has become enlightened thought. Is it any wonder that humans now feel more depressed and defeated than they have at any point in human history?"

I hate that we've become so resistant to faith. Why is it now unfashionable to admit we actually have something to believe? Why do those of us who are religious squabble amongst ourselves about who believes the right way or the right things? Why is it more socially acceptable to scoff at an idea than to believe it?


And this all comes back to my assertion that I don't care what people believe. I just want them believe in something. And that's why I don't argue religion with my boss. Because I'm just glad she has something to believe. I wish everyone believed something as strongly as she does.

My name is Kim and I believe in something.

I believe in Jesus Christ.
I believe in being nice.
I believe that a pair of heels and a little dab of perfume can make your whole day.
I believe science-fiction is one of the greatest media of all time.
I believe in buying generic.
I believe in babies.
I believe in harsher punishments for child abuse perpetrators in the state of Utah.
I believe that good literature can change your life.
I believe that sweatpants are the finest achievement in the history of textiles.
I believe in lazy weekends.
I believe in prophesy from God.
I believe in air-conditioning.
I believe in compassion.
I believe in second chances.
I believe in modest and well-regulated social programs. 
I believe in loving yourself.
I believe that bringing chocolate-chip cookies to your new neighbors is the only way to truly welcome someone to the block.
I believe in angels.
I believe in different strokes for different folks. 
I believe in making someone's day.
I believe in buying the world a Coke. 
I believe in placebos.
I believe that someday (someday!) I will master the art of making risotto.
I believe in reflexology.
I believe that you must learn magic tricks if you wish to be labeled a "cool aunt". 
I believe in using your turn signal.
I believe in forgiveness.
I believe in human beings' capacity for good.
I believe in myself. 
I believe in you.



Tell me, friends, what do you believe?