My blog in the past few months has been....struggling. At first I blamed it on my largely bathetic lifestyle even though that never really stopped me before. I mean, who else could dedicate an entire blog post on a Norwegian troll? (Where is it, by the way?)
So, in effort to reconnect with my faithful and starving blogging audience, here is my penance to you. Below are a couple anecdotes from the last five months of my life, complete with rusty wit, unpracticed sarcasm, and a little taste of Tadd.
Did anyone tell you about...? - For me, moving apartments is about as fun, exciting and rewarding as watching three weeks worth of Michael Jackson on CNN. For those of you who are Michael Jackson fans, just think about how you would feel if John Denver got the same amount of media coverage for his untimely death. Get it? Well, after a fair amount of searching, we signed contracts at the Le Grande apartments (better known as the “La Grunge” apartments for obvious reasons). Eric, the previous tenant, was very nice and diplomatically took it upon himself to break us in to the new complex. “Did anyone ever tell you about the boy problem?” Luckily, the apartment manager did inform us of the reality that there were actually three boys for every girl in the ward, a near impossibility at BYU. A few minutes later, Eric said again, “Did anyone ever tell you about the dishwasher problem?” This one caught us unaware. On the door of the dishwasher was a handmade sign that said something to the effect, “Do not open or you will die.” Apparently anthrax and its closest relatives had invited itself to cultivate the inside of our dishwasher. Lastly, Eric asked, “Did anyone ever tell you about the bird problem?” At this point I either wanted to shove Eric out the door and suffer an ignorant fate or cancel my contract with the apartment manager on the way to getting detoxified from exposure to rare and threatening spores.
As it turned out the “bird problem” was really just a code for naturally occurring 4 am alarm clock complete with “window dressings” that conveniently reminded us that the birds were still in business.
Man vs. Wild, Provo Edition - Right after I moved into my new third story apartment, my roommates and I put in a homely garden complete with nine small tomato plants. After only a few days, we noticed that instead of getting bigger, our plants were actually getting smaller, by the chunk. We blamed everyone but ourselves for the reason behind this new discovery including the girls in our ward who were growing a rival garden. One glance out the bedroom window, however, told us exactly who the perpetrators were. Our friendly birds had carefully hung our tomato plant out of their rain gutter nest so it was in plain view from our window as if to say, “we killed your tomato plants and want you to know it!” Their snooty arrogance was quickly met with vengeance and a large broomstick.
We had a little remorse.
There was no more “bird problem.”
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