Vomit

When I was in the fourth grade, I was accepted into the "Challenge" program at my elementary school. The "Challenge" program was designed to push the more academically inclined students in their schoolwork. I remember on one particularly sunny day our teacher used a word that I had never before heard--vomit. Vomit?! "Is that even English?" I thought to myself. Indeed vomit is an English word and last night on a blind date I, unfortunately, came to understand the word in an all too intimate way.
The other week, one of my sister missionary friends asked me if she could set me up on a date with one of her friends. As I am currently not dating anyone, I happily accepted the invitation. We went out last night and I had a really enjoyable time. She was fun and cute and she was easy to talk to. After going to a Palestinian lecture at the Wilk (don't ask) and dinner at the Creamery on 9th, we went back to Camille's (my sister missionary friend) house. I was just sitting on the couch chatting with my date when my stomach started rumbling in an unusual way. It was one of those things that I knew could not produce a favorable result. We got up to go back to her apartment and I felt light-headed. I was thinking to myself, "What in the world is this? Why I am I feeling like this?" After looking something up on her computer (all the while the rumblings became shorter and more constant), we stood to leave. Everything became really bright in my head and I could feel something coming up my throat. I knew this couldn't be good. Instead of following her out the door, I walked straight into her bathroom as I could feel "vomit" coming. As a tender mercy, no one was in the bathroom and I was able to keep the vomit in my mouth without making a sound as I quickly walked into her bathroom and closed the door. I immediately turned the faucet on (to muffle any awkward sound) and I delicately spit out some of the spicy fries with cheese sauce that I had enjoyed just an hour earlier. After disposing of the contents, I looked at myself in the mirror and thought to myself, "I am in the bathroom of my blind date's apartment. I just vomited. What am I going to say and how am I going to get out of this?" I did the only thing I could think of doing. I walked out of the bathroom with a big smile, told her roommate it was nice to meet her, and told my date that I wasn't feeling well after dinner and I rushed into her bathroom as a precaution. True statement--just without some of the more descriptive elements. Charming...I know. Shortly thereafter, we ended the date with a hug and I went home. Oh how I wish the story ended there! Right when I walked into my apartment, the rest of my french fries and I think some of my hamburger exited my body in a rather violent manner. Five times last night that very same exit was made by everything in my stomach and I had no other choice but to sip Sprite and watch "Titanic" on TBS until 4:30 in the morning.
As I've reflected on my experiences last night, I started thinking about what might have been. What if I had not been able to make it to her bathroom in time or there was someone already in her bathroom? Throwing up in your date's apartment on a first date?! The Lord's mercy has no bounds.

Singing and Dancing

I grew up playing sports. I played baseball, soccer, football, basketball, and I even ran cross country during junior high school for good measure. I like action movies, I like to compete, I like to eat fast food, etc. Simply said, I like to do "guy" things. However, as I've grown older, it is becoming more and more apparent that I have a softer side. Dare I say a not so "guy" side? I am a sucker for singing and dancing. I love the television show "So You Think You Can Dance? I love the play "Wicked." I love the movies "Grease," "Hairspray," and of course the "High School Musical" trilogy. Not really the typical manly entertainment. Naturally the following question is, "Should I deny who I really am?" "Should I suppress my love for singing and dancing, all in the name of masculinity?" I think in this case, my actions have already answered this question considering last week I listened to the "Wicked" soundtrack, and I watched the movies "Grease," "Hairspray," and "High School Musical 3." Now listen. Let us not be so quick to judge. I still love sports. I love playing intramural basketball. I love running. I love throwing the football. I like to do manly things. But I also love watching singing and dancing on TV while dancing jazz squares. I just have a softer side, okay?

The Roommate Switch

Jerry: "It can't be done, huh?"

George: "The switch?"

Jerry: "The switch."

George: (shaking his head) "It can't be done."

There are many ways to arrange a date. You can meet someone in class and ask for their number. You can examine the "ward menu" and call someone from your ward. One of your friends can ask to set you up or you can ask one of your friends to set you up. The list goes on and on. However, no matter how you arrange a date, after the date has taken place there is a certain "dating code." The code is unspoken, yet it is expected to be observed. One of the principle elements of the dating code is known as "the switch." The switch involves dating one of the roommates of the person you are currently dating or were recently dating. I, as a participant in the game that is dating, have always followed the advice George gave to Jerry on Seinfeld and I have never attempted to break the code and attempt "the switch." That is--until I was "blinded," and the switch happened to me.

A couple of weeks ago I was set up on a blind date by one of my friends. The girl I went out with was awesome! She was nice and smart and cute and overall the date was really fun. I, however, chose not to immediately pursue. The following week I was set up on another blind date by one of my mission friends. The girl was fun, easy-going, and cute and the date was very enjoyable. Once again, however, I chose not to immediately pursue. When I arrived home from the second blind date, my roommates were asking me about the date and of course about the girl. The girl from the second blind date and I had just become "Facebook friends," so my roommates wanted me to show them a picture of her. The picture on her profile didn't satisy my roommates so they wanted to look at her other pictures on Facebook. One of the first photos that came up was a picture of the girl I had just gone out with that night and another girl who looked strangely familiar. The girl who looked strangely familiar looked really cute and I couldn't figure out where I had seen her before? My roommates, not yet satisfied, wanted to see a picture of the girl from the first blind date. I searched her name on Facebook (I know this seems like we are stalkers but sadly such conduct has become all too normal) and when her profile picture came up I was all the more confused. It was the exact same picture that we had just looked at from the second blind date's profile--The girl I had just gone out with on the right and the girl who looked strangely familiar on the left! Well no wonder the girl on the left looked familiar! I had gone out with her less than a week before! And then I went out with one of her friends less than a week after I had gone out with her! Judging by her photos on Facebook, I am almost positive that they are not only friends but roommates too! I had pulled "the switch"--blind date style! I couldn't believe it! I thought to myself, "What are the chances?" Being a finance major, I quickly calculated the odds. I don't know how many girls go to BYU but the chance of going out with one girl and then going out with one of her roommates unknowingly is three divided by the number of girls at BYU. I only have two conclusions:

1. Those are small odds.

2. I am a lucky guy.

To see Seinfeld's view on "the switch" please visit http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x55ouYYMUu4 (just watch it until the 3:15 mark).

Taking out the Trash

To take out the trash is simple. It simply requires one to take the garbage bag out of the garbage can and carry it to the garbage dumpster. All in all, it probably takes one minute, two at the most. But if one were to walk into my apartment of six males, it would quickly become painfully obvious that this one to two minute task has not been performed in over a week.
The accumulation starts simply enough. When a fresh trash bag has just been inserted, life is good. You can simply throw away your trash without any fear that it will bounce out of the trash can after hitting trash that is already there. Once the trash can becomes full, then the cereal boxes and Wheat Thins boxes and cookie boxes begin to surround the trashcan like presents around a Christmas tree. Still, fairly harmless. In addition, the empty boxes surrounding the trash can become mini-trash cans of their own that can be stuffed with everything from candy wrappers to banana peels to unpopped popcorn kernels. You might even say using old trash to serve as trash cans is downright economical. I don't see any reason to complain so far. Unfortunately, the saying holds true: "All good things must come to and end." Although the trash can and mini-trash cans have been stuffed to the brim like a turkey on Thanksgiving (or for that matter our stomachs during any one of many holiday seasons), you just become so accustomed to being so economical (or lazy) and saving trash bags that the trash on top of and surrounding the trash can builds. It builds to the point of stink and that is when irritation enters the playing field. The same people who had faithfully added to the accumulation of trash throughout the week become irriated and in the name of "service" perform the one to two minute task of taking out the garbage. A new trash bag in inserted, peace is restored, and the cycle begins again.