it's a true story kids

When I was a senior in high school I took a sewing class...no doubt to fill one of those purposeless artsy credit requirements set up by school board directors nationwide in an attempt to "well-roundify" their student populations. Do pardon me, but if a human does not wish to be an artist, the artwork you force he or she to produce will only inflict (perhaps significant) damage upon the other, (perhaps more agreeable) inhabitants of the planet. But this is neither here nor there.

When I was a senior in high school I took a sewing class. I was assigned a machine station betwixt two lovely girls of latin decent. (Allow me to interject that I have absolutely nothing against hispanic culture nor it's community members. I love them. Almost all of them.)
On my right sat Katrina, on my left Anna. (Names have been changed for protection. Even though they don't deserve it.) Throughout an entire semester these two "chicas" spent every B3 period making fun of me in their native tongue of Espanol. "Oh my gosh...this girl sucks at sewing." "Are those the same jeans she wore last week?" "Ay Caramba! Esta muchacha no puedo aser nada! Ole!" etc. etc. All very biting comments as you can see. I bode my time as patiently as an emperor penguin in Artarctica during the 4 bitter winter months it spends fighting for not only his own life, but the life of it's soon to be infant emperor penguin, as the mother leaves to find food and stuff herself silly on a variety of fish so that after making the months long trek back to her little family she can regurgitate said fish into her new infants mouth and save it from starvation, thus forming a truly secure mother-child bond. That patiently.
During the last week of the term Katrina turned to Anna and asked her in Spanish, "Anna, when is our portfolio due?" I turned to her calmly and said, "Next Thursday." I then proceeded to shrug my shoulders, smile slightly to myself and send a quick silent thank you into the sky to all of my former Spanish Immersion teachers. Love you Sra. Ware.
The looks on their faces were oh so priceless, and not unlike the look J.D. so frequently dons after Dr. Cox calls him Shirley and puts him in his place with an incandescent rant. Sigh.

Also perhaps not unlike the face you now wear after reading this post. My best to you.
In summary... I still think I want to be a spy when I grow up. I'd be radder than rad at spying. I'm so good at being patient and lying. And also staying on task without straying through useless tangents.

i'm a billionaire...almost a lot of times

I would be the most awesome inventor if people would just stop coming up with my ideas before me.

Example number one: Three years ago during a swimming phase I went through, I decided that if runners got music, I deserved some too. This spawned my endeavor to invent the underwater ipod. Unfortunately, some turd beat me to it. (uh...*whisper* but thank you for my underwater ipod).

Example number two: Today I was sitting here in deep thought when all of the sudden brilliance struck me once again. "Hey!" I proclaimed, "Wouldn't it be rad to hang a fishbowl on the wall?! And stick a real fish in it?!" Guess what?....
*Sigh* Jerks. But I still want one. Although, do you think this fish lives in a constant state of terror/confusion?

Not to flatter myself, well actually...that is the reason I wrote the post....so yes, in order to flatter myself, I will simply tell you that these examples of things I invented without due credit could go on all night. Color isolation on cameras...floating trampolines... internet on phones... cake flavored ice cream (which certainly sits at the top of the list)...zip on-zip off shorts/pants (not so proud of that one)... were all thought up by the brain of yours truly. Just not at the opportune moment.

I will have you all know, however, that the armpit-lawnmower-sprinkler-face dance move remains a Kristen Muirhead original. Well, I may or may not have had a little help from Vanessa....the 5 year-old.

uno, dos, tres...etc.

I have 4 very important orders of business to discuss.

1. I hate showering, this is a well known fact. I REALLY REALLY hate it, I'm talking to a loathing degree. But want to know what I hate even more? I knew you would. It's washing my hair. All truth must be confessed at some point, why not now? So, there you have it. The reasons why I commonly reek of and asian food and oil (please avoid being misled and make sure to separate those two. Asian Food. Oil. Not Asian Food and Asian Oil).
2. You know the song "Chasing Pavements" by a one Adele? It has very recently come to my attention that this bit of music is not in fact entitled "Chasing Penguins"... ahem.... And all this time I just thought the laughter from others, whilst I sang along came from the common mocking of such a ridiculous notion. Now I can see the unfortunateness in my all too common response of "I know! What a crazy song! They must be running out of ideas...penguins....pah! (yes I 'pah!' quite frequently)." And let's be truthful, if it really came down to just giving up or chasing penguins, the choice is obvious, no? Need we sing about it?
3. After watching V for Vendetta last night I think it is safe to say that if the need should ever arise for me to have a girl crush it would most definitely have to be on Natalie Portman. Here's to your brilliance. And baldness.
4. My mother is conspiring to start a blog for the sole purpose of posting humiliating quotes which seem to escape my mouth multiple times a day. Boycott this with a vengeance.

dear criminal

Yes, this is coming late. I am aware of my behind the times-ness, okay?

I would like to personally thank whomever the human being was who finally said, "Down with this madness!" and released the draft of the final book in the Twilight series and saved the world from it's own stupidity and yet another literature calamity of epic proportions. Bless your soul forever and ever and may the sun shine down upon you in all the days to come. I can truly say with full conviction that you do not suck.

And speaking of literature and things that don't suck.... (weird, what are the odds that would work so well here?).... go to your nearest bookstore/library and buy/borrow THE FOUNTAINHEAD. It's by Ayn Rand and....(hmm, how weird and fortuitous)....she also doesn't suck.

mysteries unfolded...finally

I played with Mer's boys again for a little bit today. This was a highlight from craft time:

Cam (age 5): Kai, don't eat those purple beads or you'll turn purple!
Kai (age 3): What?
Cam: I'm just teasin' ya. But seriously Kai, don't eat the brown ones.
Kai: Why?
Cam: Cause you'll turn brown. I don't know how exactly it happens, but I've seen brown people before.

and it was love

Next time I find a 15,000 dollar bill on the ground, 

I know exactly what I'll be purchasing.

confessions of a puddle jumper

Today is the best day of my life. Want to know why? Because I am a girl, and today is the day I discovered that Target sells 98 different kinds of rain boots. Ahoy!

um...yum

Guess what I ate for breakfast AND lunch AND dinner today? 

That's right, my new favorite food.

feel the burn

Remember in high school chemistry how you use to dare each other to find out what it's like to use that weird yellow thing in the corner? The one that looked like this?:

Well, today was my lucky day. And by lucky I of course mean that someone ran into me at work whilst I carried a large tray of chili paste, and said paste of chili did greet my left eyeball with a vengeance. Another day, another harder than I'd originally anticipated-earned dollar.

On a brighter note, this experience was far less painful than the one where I ate a chili pod during training while answering the question "What should you always tell guests about Kung Pao Chicken?" with "Never eat the chili pods, unless you wish to find out what it is like to rue the day you were born." I now know what it is like to be on fire. Almost literally.

my favorite season

Autumn.

It's the first day of Autumn.

I walk alone through the park today.

Crisp. Cool. 

Inhale.

Bright. Warm.

Exhale.

Sun rays dance on my skin.

Green. Blue. Red. Yellow. 

Intensity.

Have I seen color before?

A moment worth a thousand pictures.

A breeze kisses my face.

Laughter tickles my ears.

Roller blades, soccer balls, picnics.

Trees meet high above,

linking arms across my path.

Shade. Pond. Geese. Hills.

I smell, I see, I feel, I am.

The perfect day...

I finally found you.

but for everything else...

Gorgeous Red Grandma Shoes: $5.00
10 Pack Colored Play-Doh: $3.00
"Chuck Norris Beat the Sun in a Staring Contest" folder: $.50




Yet Another Successful Wal-Mart Venture: Priceless

on my mind

1. The Carpool Lane: I have decided it is my new calling in life to teach Utahns the definition of a carpool lane and how to use one. I'll break it down for you... Double white line equals A WALL. You cannot drive through A WALL people.

2. Newscasters: Do they really need to come up with such clever links between two stories which are so blatantly obvious in their unrelatedness? "Dog owners around the country say they will make their voices heard by filing petitions." "Thanks Joanne. And speaking of filing things, a local nail salon was robbed today in West Valley." Can't they just say, "In other news, which has nothing to do with my previous sentence..."

3. School: If you decide one day to open up a college and you invite people to come and gain knowledge, let me go ahead and give you a heads up. If you try to shove 60 full grown humans into a dance studio and teach them some moves, or teach fine arts in an auditorium, your students will most likely throw their hands up and leave your school. Also, if you hire teachers which use words such as &,#, and $% when addressing one your students in front of a class and then send said student home early from class, that student may or may not use choice language back at previously mentioned teacher and again....quit school.

4. My Roommates: When one considers the prospect of living with two 18 year old freshmen in a 3/4 size studio apartment with 1 less bed than would normally be considered appropriate, one's spirits might seem a bit dampened. Not so for me I must say. I thought I hit the jackpot with roommate number one, but then roommate number two moved in and I think we might have to end up getting a triangle marriage or something equally vulgar and disturbing. I am in LOVE. Perhaps an excerpt from this week will help you love them too: I am walking through the toilet area (having no doors or shower curtain... I can't in good faith or technically call it a "bathroom") to go get in the rinse off station (seeing as how the water pressure is equivalent to a backyard drinking fountain's I can't in good faith or technically call it a "shower") and as I pass Courtney, she pulls down my pants. She laughs her face red and through fits of giggles spits out, "Oh my gosh... how embarrassing! I hate getting pantsed! Ha-ha!" I calmly pull up my knickers, turn to face her and say, "I believe you have forgotten that you are the one naked on the toilet right now." Yes, the number of inhibitions in our household has reached the negative digits.

5. Life: Yeah, I think I'm gonna go ahead and skip over this part.

6. The Up and Coming Presidential Election: I'm writing in Gob Bluth.

7. 3D Sidewalk Chalk. A-MaaaaaaZING!!
8. P.F. Changs: It's my new job. It is in the contract I signed that I am allowed to blog about the restaurant, on the sole premise that I first inform my readers that what they are about to hear is strictly personal opinion and does not reflect the views of the China Bistro in question. So, I would like to inform you, dear readers, that what I am about to write is strictly my own personal opinion and does not reflect the views of P.F. Changs. Well, actually I already said what I wanted to say, which was to simply to inform you that it was in deed in my contract that I couldn't blog about work, unless it came with a disclaimer. Oh! Wait, I do have one more thing to say here. Yesterday at work my trainer was giving me a test at the end of my shift. Question 6 was "Why is it important to know if customers are deathly allergic to certain ingredients?" My answer: "To protect the customer from illness and death and to insure they have a pleasurable experience. Also to protect the restaurant from legal issues." Trainer: "Close. But the main reason is that a P.F. Changs customer that is dead, is no longer a P.F. Changs customer. And we can't lose customers." I laughed. No one else did. It was not a joke.

9. And speaking of jokes, I am not going to finish this post now. Ba ha ha! Just kidding! Jokes on you!

dear readers

A young, teenybopping pre-teen has decided to engage in a battle of sorts with your faithful author, me. Well...semi-faithful as of late. Anyway, I would simply like to preface the devastating announcement below with a disclaimer informing you that what is about to be revealed is purely a response to already fired shots. I act in pure self--defense.

Anyone remember Muirhead Survivor? Well take a good look into this eye:
That's right, take a deep gander into that deceitful little eye because it is full of LIES. You my dear friends, are looking at a cheater pants, and it's name is Michelle 'pockets full of chocolate chips and crackers' Muirhead. Oh the injustice in the world.

Dear M: I'm on to you child. And don't say I didn't warn you about the brutality of war.

i'm awesome? what?

Okay children. Go outside and look to the east. There is a mountain there. I'm pretty sure that it is in fact the largest mountain in the world. See it? Yeah, mmm-hmmm. That would be the mountain I did summit two days ago. And it's name is Timpanogos.

To summarize an eventful event, I'll leave it at this: 7 hours, 20 miles, 1 sunrise, 31 degrees, 4 naughty words, 40 mile per hour winds, 28 swedish fish, 2 snuggles, and 1 possible mountain top public pant changing, and a goal from my top 10 list is reached. And that's that.

Here's a photo I found on google of some random guy at the summit shack:
You're welcome, by the way.

oh woe is me

This past week I've found myself in a state of depression not unlike the one I encounter during a good J.K. Rowling read. Allow an explanation. Harry Potter minus the almost unbearable writing equals all my dreams come true. There is nothing I would love more than to go to Hogwarts. This deep-rooted desire leaves me standing (barely) with a short-end-of-the-stick feeling at my horrible luck of being a muggle. (And just so you know, you people thinking I've lost it...I know for a fact I'm not alone here...Shannon came home in tears from the first Pirates movie because she could not be a scallywag.)

Here are the reasonings behind this particular installment of Sulk Yourself Silly: The Olympics...namely women's (little girls'?) gymnastics. As I watched Shawn Johnson and Nastia Liukin fly through the air performing stunts that would make little circus runaways gape in envy, I could not help but do a little envious gaping myself. So here it is: I want to be an olypmic gymnast and I want a gold medal and I preferably want to do it in four years because I hear they're all going to London in 2012 and I really really like London. I know what you're thinking right now: "Kristen, of course you could be an olympic gymnast! Why are you sitting here on the computer when you could be at the gym training! Goodness, you are so silly!" But you have forgotten two small bits of information. One: I am a tall drink of water. Take the tallest gymnast to ever be an olympian (yes, I looked it up) then add about 6 inches of head. The result will be me. Two: I am no longer 4 years old (I know, shocking). And apparently that would be the age one must be taken from home and begin their training. and Three (so I'm adding one, get over it): I have no house to mortgage twice to pay for classes.

What to do? Sometimes it blows when you realize at age 21 that your hopes and dreams in life are to rewind 17 years. And also to be Chinese.

Anyway, Please contact me if:
A. You are an olympic gymnastics trainer and are looking for an adult prodigy at the beginning level.
B. You have a house I could borrow and mortgage.
C. You are selling shortening drugs (Illegal is fine).
D. You have found how to get to Hogwarts and are selfish and not sharing. It's time to spread the wealth amigo.

P.S. I know at least one person from each of these categories is reading this blog. Don't be a stranger. Come out of hiding.

hirariousness

In honor of the Beijing Olympics I have decided to bring you a selection of my favorite Asian to English translations. Please consult engrish.com for more cachinnation opportunities.

a rude awakening

Michelle (age 12) and I played a mean game of 20 questions last night. This particular round secured her win in the "Kristen's Favorite Human" competition:

Kristen: I'm thinking of a person.
Michelle: Are they dead?
Kristen: Yes
M: Were they a man?
K: Yes
M: Famous?
K: Yes
M: Politician?
K: Yes
M: President?
K: You are good at this game
M: Taft?
K: No
M: Van Buren?
K: No
M: Madison?
K: Are you guessing real presidents?
M: Polk? Harrison? Tyler? Fillmore? Buchanan? Adams? Johnson? Bush the First?
K: Seriously, are you kidding me?
M: Garfield? Grant? Hayes? Harrison? Cleveland?
K: I have no response to this.
M: Oh! Lincoln?
K: Yes, that would be the one.

What are they feeding 7th graders these days?

conversationing is not easiful

A recent exchange of words I had whilst stopping to view a waterfall on a motorcycle trip:

Man at waterfall (seeing me in my "Click it or Ticket" get-up): What's your ride?
Me: I'm sorry?
Man: What's your ride?
Me: Um, I don't think I know what that means.
Man (sigh of annoyance): What are you guys riding?
Me (feeling proud of catching up to speed here): Oh! We're on motorcycles.
Man (with a look of "you are the dumbest human on this planet"): Yeah. I know that. Never mind.
Me: No, I'm sorry! I don't know what you mean. You mean what kind of motorcycles?
Man: Just forget about it kid.
Me: No! Um... We are on a two seater...It's black....Has some storage racks on the back....
Man (Starting to walk away): Seriously. Please just stop.
Me (yelling after him): I'm sorry! I"m so sorry!

Yours Truly,
The Dumbest Human on the Planet

to she who must not be named

(you know who you are)

My DEEPEST of apologies for my total LACK of blogging as of late. You can add it to the list of things for which I owe you penance. And yes, one more thing. I LOVE LOVE LOVE you!

Love, Moi

(Please note that this is being put up two entire hours prior to midnight. Yes, I'm amazing.)

33

That is the number of degrees (F) the river which I floated atop this afternoon contained. I have a lot to catch up on, but I'm not going to. My number one concern and order of business is to inform you that I was nearly drank (drunken?) by a real live moose today. And also that a strange boy jumped on my tube from a large river boulder. Whilst I was still on said tube. Goodnight.

not much...just some travels and the end of the world

Apologies extended for the recent MIA activity. I am prone to absences...please ask any of my teachers grades 8 through 12. (Jared also loves to give the facts and figures). When I stop running around like a chicken with its head cut off, I hope to catch all 4 of you up on my recent trips through the (mid)west...yes including Mt. Rushmore (or "those old guys heads" to a certain 5 year-old) Anyway, it's not going to get much better seeing as how me and my homeless hair (it gets that way on the road) are off on a few more spontaneous get-aways. So suck it up and try your best to be brave and make it through a few more days without me. I know it's hard. Perhaps take up knitting.

In other news, birds 4 and 5 flew into our back window last week bringing the death toll to an all new high. Moses and the frogs comes to mind. Head on over to our house if you wish to witness the apocalypse.

Hmmm... I'm thinking I probably shouldn't say "chicken with its head cut off" at such a devastating and terrible time in the world of the fowl. How disrespectful.

happy first birthday blog!

What a glorious year. I don't want anything more. 365 days. Don't they go by in a blink?

adios amigos!

Well, I'm off for a few days of America touring on the back of my poppa's motorcycle. The iPod's charged...the Desitin's packed. We'll see you later crocodiles!

One last thing....I am reluctant to share with you how awesome I look in biking getup because I know how hard it can be to see someone in an amazing outfit and not a) covet it or b) hate them at least a little bit. But try your best and just be happy for me that great fortune has found its way to my doorstep. If you do, Andrew Thunderbolts just might let you off with a warning when she pulls you over. (it is hard to make out the attached helmet microphone in this particular shot...but oh it is there)

dear santa

If I'm really really REALLY good for the rest of this year, and perhaps even apologize for the spaghetti incident... can I pleeeeeaaasssee(pretty pretty kind) have THIS for Christmas? And preferably a few months early...you know, in time for amphibious motorhomeboat season?

in loving memory

What is up with the birds of this world? Or at least of our front yard? I mean come on!

CLICK HERE and let it play while returning to read this post.

It was a somber day at the Muirhead home. We did, unfortunately, lose another member of our avian family this afternoon. Well....(s)he wasn't so much our bird as (s)he was a bird. Mom spotted it outside the office window flopping around on the ground and I was sent to attempt a rescue. The poor thing shivered and twitched in my hands for a good ten minutes, and despite our valiant attempts at feeding and watering, and whispering magical spells into its ears, it kicked the can at 12:03 PM.

This is "Birdie" still alive.


This is Birdie dead.


Now we may be known for our lack of ability at keeping animals alive, but we certainly give them solemn farewells. Allow me to recount Birdie's funeral services for you, dear reader(s).

Birdie's casket, made custom by Champion Footwear.


How the girls felt about Birdie's tragic and untimely death.


The program for Birdie's funeral.



The pallbearers.


During the opening remarks.


We all said our final words to Birdie while sprinkling birdseed onto his/her grave and then Nichol graced us with an improvisational poem.


Birdie was buried as Michelle made up a very moving song on her violin. All in attendance were deeply touched.


Music brought to you by Kristen's iPod and Dewalt Power Tools.



Bye Bye Birdie. R.I.P.


In leui of flowers....please send candy.

p.s. I would not recommend digging graves today. It is much too sweltering out.