you can't throw his head, you can only throw your own head!

this morning, i woke up with some crazy hair. it looked like this:it was the side that was pinned that freaked me out the most. it just stuck out a lot. (you see? on the left side? ok.)

for some reason, when i looked at myself in the mirror, i was reminded of this guy:photo courtesy of
i had a sudden urge to take off my head and throw it.

they wanted me to go to rehab, but i said no no no.

i have an addiction.

but you know what? admitting it is the first part of solving the problem.
i have to succumb several times a day.
this morning my defenses were broken down at 9:00 am.
that early.
i try to fight it, i really do,
i tell myself that i will not do it.
i can make it through the day,sometimes succession doesn't even help.
it's just not enough

you may have guessed it,
maybe not,
but i am addicted to napping.
i feel the need to take a nap daily
if not, i'm grumpy, slow, unresponsive and distant.

and i wasn't lying about the 9:00 am thing,
i got up at 7:00 and was napping by 9:00.
it's become a problem.
but i love the vice.
i don't want to stop.

sorry, i would tell you where the photo came from, but i got it during fall semester, and now i don't remember. either corbis or getty.

fun fact number 12

i don't like self flushing toilets.
they're icky.
i feel like big brother's watching me.
creepily.
ugh.

Oliver Reed Bulleigh, welcome to the world

i have a sister named jeannine.

she has four very cute babies.
the three older look like this:Dahlia, Luke, and Allen
yeah, they're adorable.
but, this morning, at 3:48 am,
Oliver Reed Bulleigh was born.
he's a tiny guy, but he's beautiful and perfect.
this is him:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g1C7gA5BTi0&feature=player_embedded

oh baby oliver, how you be so tiny and sweet?

honeysuckle and fireflies.

photo courtesy of

i know that i've said before that i miss oklahoma. but for reals, i do.
yeah, i wasn't allowed to sit in the grass, i could get chiggers,
but there are so many other things in the summer that make it ok
most of all, though,

it's the honeysuckle and fireflies. i miss them the most.

photo courtesy of

gives you hail.

8:30 am: I woke up and looked out the window.
rain.
9:15 am: I walked out of my apartment and to school.
snow.
10:50 am: i started walking home.
hail.
11:20 am: i walked to the store.
LOTS of hail
12:55 pm: i'm sitting in my room.
sun shiney and cold.

i'm not really sure what's going on.

there is someone i would like you to meet.

this is my bamboo plant.
we are very good friends.

my bamboo plant and i have been through a lot together.
he (i like to think it's a male) saw me through my entire college career thus far.
and i have seen him almost die.
he is currently living in its third pot,
i am currently living in my fourth apartment.

my mom gave him to me when i first moved to provo.
i feel like we share a connection.
i just thought you'd like to meet him.

isn't he pretty?

oh woof.

i may have said it before, but i am afraid of dogs.

a lot of people don't understand this. how can anyone be afraid of dogs?

let me tell you.

when i was little, my family had a dog named bingo. bingo hated kids and girls, both of which i was. she bit me and my sisters any time we touched her.

when i was about 10, my neighbor's dog bit my bottom lip. yeah. my bottom lip.

every time someone tells me their dog doesn't bite, it will inevitably bite me.

and the newest reason:

today, on my way home from class, there was a dog. it was little and followed me, so i stopped to pet it. i took a chance. this went well, for a couple of minutes. then the people i was pretty sure were its owners started to go inside, so i kept telling it to go with them, but it wouldn't. i tried to check its collar to make sure that it did for sure live next to me. as soon as i touched its collar, it FREAKED OUT! it barked and yelped, and scared the freaking crap out of me. i screamed.

then i thought...this is why i'm scared of dogs.

things i love #7 (or people i love)

i love michael jackson. seriously.

not his crazy antics, but honestly, his music? amazing.

his dancing? awesome.

he's just cool.

photo courtesy of

watch this. it will make your day.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F2AitTPI5U0

i have a sudden hankering for red vines.

(mr. pibb and red vines equals crazy delicious)

photo courtesy of

it's not a craving i've ever had before.

i've wanted good and plenties,

i've wanted twizzlers,

i've never all of the sudden said "i want red vines."

i also want to go to the movie theatre with my red vines.

do you know what it feels like, lovin' someone who's in a rush to throw you away?

today i uncovered a talent.

ping pong.

all my life i thought i wasn't good at ping pong. i never understood the attraction or why people felt the need to play this weird game for hours on end.

but today, i was shown the light. i like ping pong. i'm not bad at ping pong. shocking, i know. i'm not a pro, by any means.

i won't go to the 2012 olympics for table tennis. (maybe 2014, you never know).

but i can hold my own. and with me, that's saying something.

(for those of you who don't know, the title of this post is taken from the ping pong song by enrique iglesias)

photo courtesy of

inhibition-less.

i am a senior in college. a senior. weird.

today, i realized something.

i graduated high school with inhibitions.

then, i came to college and all the inhibitions went out the window.

now, i am not afraid to sleep on the floor (not my floor, the floor of class buildings. or the library. or the grass)

i'm not afraid to cross the street without a cross walk. or light.

i'm not afraid to talk to random people.

i'm not afraid to sing to myself when there's no one around.

i'm not afraid to sprint down the street when i might miss the bus.

so, if you ever see someone sprinting down the street in the dark singing to herself and talking to random people, then lying down on the floor and taking a nap,

don't worry, it's just me. and i am not afraid to be that person.

cuz that's what college does to you. it makes you inhibition-less.

i am green with jealous rage right now.

i'm jealous of everyone else right now.

all of you college students outside of BYU.

you kids who are finishing finals right now.

i don't envy your tests, i envy your freedom.

you see, while you lucky kids are pulling all nighters and studying for the imminent tests,

you are also looking forward to summer.

freedom from classes.

no more school.

BYU relinquished its hold on the students of winter semester almost a month ago.

all other summers, i was ecstatic be finished so soon.

it was glorious.

however, this year, i'm taking spring and summer classes.

and we started classes 6 days after winter classes terminated.

so, now, while you are finishing the last of your tests,

i am taking my first.

i am influenced by star wars.

today, i rode the bus. also, it was raining. this is a wonderful combination because busses have really awesome windshield wipers. they look like this:

then, when they move they look like they're doing some crazy dance. they look like droids. i felt like i was on the millennium falcon and the droids were dancing for me. it was awesome.

things i love #6

the ukulele.

i know, that's kind of weird, but how can you not? seriously. it's just happy and fun and it sounds like sitting on a beach and watching the ocean.

also, this is my friend Dent May and his magnificent ukulele. alright, we're not actually friends, since we've never met, but i would be friends with him. i love him. i'd like to meet him. and take uke lessons from him. beautiful.

the video's kind of weird, but still cool.

plus, everything looks cooler when john lennon holds one. he exudes cool.

sometimes i wonder...

...why do we celebrate birthdays? it's not like it's an accomplishment. congratulations, you are still alive! so is everyone else on the planet. it's like celebrating a kid who has yet to get out in dodge ball. so nothing hit you and got you out of "the game," good job.

why don't we celebrate the mother on the birthday? she's the one who did all the work.

then i remember that we're celebrating their life. not that their still living, but that they're alive. that we get to spend time with them.

i'm torn.

don't get me wrong. i LOVE birthdays. especially mine. they're great. i love cake and presents and getting to say "it's my birthday" and getting to say "no, i'm 21. not 20." and i really like balloons. i also like gathering. i like spending time with people. and being pampered. cause when it's your birthday, you're pampered.

i just sometimes wonder. for no particular reason. just wondering.

things i love #5

toast.

i love toast. it's ridiculous.

toast with butter.

toast with jam.

toast with honey.

toast with peanut butter.

toast with nothing.

i just really love toast. i thought you should know.

validation.

i saw this for the first time last year. i really love it. it's just great. pretty inspiring. it won all kinds of awards. and, yes, that is Hodgins from Bones.

i know it's 17 minutes long. it's worth it.

adventure of a lifetime

ok. not of a lifetime. sometimes i speak in overstatements. but here we go.

today, i decided that i needed bangs. i blame it on my current obsession with Zooey Deschanel and my lifetime (since middle school) love of Gilmore Girls (Rory's hair, season 6. look it up. actually, i'll just show you)

alexis photo courtesy of

zooey photo courtesy of

so, today, i decided i was in desperate need of bangs. however, i'm poor. i didn't want to spend 15 dollars for someone to cut my bangs. so i called my trusty sister. she's awesome. and i said, can i do it myself? and she said...

... yes!

so i did. it was an adventure. i also promised kathleen that i would show pictures. so, kathleen, here you go. this is my handiwork.

please don't call me at 7:00 in the morning.

a little belated celebration.

ok. i had plans.

big

huge

plans.

we're talking crazy plans. confetti. pinata (pretend there's a tilde above that n). funny hats. face painting. petting zoo. pony rides. maybe even a clown. crazy crazy plans.

ok, maybe my plans weren't so big. maybe there wasn't a clown. but i was going to mention it. i was going to say something. then i missed it. i had something else to say. obviously meaningless, since i don't even remember what i said.

so i'm sorry. i missed 50. then i missed 60. these are huge milestones in a blogger's life. 50. big times. 50. and 60. bigger than 50. not as important, but numerically bigger.

so, on this, my 62nd post, i offer celebration. pet a zoo, bash a pinata (again with the tilde), and laugh at a clown. because i am prematurely 62.

and, of course, ride a pony.

photo courtesy of

things i love #4

i want to share something with you that i feel everyone should see. it's a beautiful display of musical and cinematic genius. seriously, if you haven't seen it, you are just not living.

watch it. enjoy it. laugh. cry. it is beautiful. and glorious.

fun fact number 11

there is something that i can't stand.

it sends me into a clothing frenzy.

i'm not saying that i'm a fashion maven.

i'm not obsessive.

i don't shop like crazy.

(i actually was 19 before i liked to shop)

but i have one issue.

girls who wear tennis shoes with their jeans.

it's ok if boys do it. call me shoe sexist, i don't care.

i also don't care if they're sneakers. i like sneakers.

vans, converse, keds, any kind of sneakers.

what i'm talking about is running shoes.

i don't like them with jeans.

it almost kills me to wear them.

it takes a lot of coaxing.

and a lot of bribing.

and a lot of crying (on my part).

and then i still don't do it.

slap a belly on me and call me pregnant.

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Dana K. do not read this post! i'm serious. i'm doing this for your own good. this is not the monster at the end of this book. it will not end up being a good post for you in the end. it will make you cry. i repeat. DO NOT READ THIS DANA K!
*************************
occasionally i have cleaning rampages. i start, i go, and i just can't stop. i (once again) blame my mother. she's a clean freak. and i love her for it. fun fact about my mother: when she was a teenager and going to bed, if she needed to remember something in the morning, she would move something out of its place, and in the morning, the fact that it was moved would remind her. (that was a really long sentence). anyways, she kept a very clean house. i'm not my mother, but i do like clean things. i can deal with clutter and chaos, but once i start, i go. like nesting.

today, it started with suddenly running out of dishwasher detergent (k, it wasn't so sudden, it was a long time coming) but i started with cleaning the dishes, and then i didn't stop.

then i got to the bathroom. i needed to take out the trash. it was important. then i actually emptied the trash. and saw what was at the bottom of the trash.

(***dana, if you think you are grover and have continued to read this, stop right now. stop stop STOP!***)

here's an interesting fact about living with dana. she is afraid of hair. this is a very transmittable fear. maybe not fear, but nausea? yes.

anyways, the trash. at the bottom of the trash, there was hair. lots of it. and somehow, it was wet. and smelled. it was gross. i gagged. (good thing i'm not actually pregnant. it would have been bad)

just so you know, it was here when i moved in. it wasn't my fault. just gross.

maybe this was too much information. if so, i'm very sorry. you don't have to read this post. it is a tad on the gross side. actually, it owns gross street in gross town in grossland in the country of gross on the grossest planet. a lot of gross.

holy freaking crap with the pancakes.

i am a pancake girl.

it stems from my mother's deep obsession with whole wheat waffles. they are healthy, but quite heavy. and crispy. personally, i feel that my sugary syrup doused dough should be fluffy. and white (if you're going to drown it in thick maple flavored sugar water, why try to make it healthy? just go with the fattiness. it's fun).

then i met bianca. she introduced me to the mexican pancake. (for you kids at home, this has exactly the same makeup as the regular pancake, bisquick, ya know. however, it's 10 times the size. it takes 2 spatulas to flip it. as bianca says, white people pancakes are too small).

however, as much as i love the giant mexican pancake, i have found my pancake lover. a pancake to punch all pancakes in their faces and make them realize that they are just not good enough to don the name of pancake.

the cinnamon bun pancake with maple-butter icing.(note: butter is in the title. butter=delicious)

this is the king of all pancakes. actually, with it's excessive sugar content, let's call it the queen. it takes the cake (pancake). it's delicious. it's ridiculous. and yes, i did have to go off my sugar hiatus. but i had a hankering for pancakes. so, i went to my trusty pioneer woman (read her high heels to tractor wheels, it will blow your freakin mind!!) and searched pancakes. as she is the queen of all things delicious, she supplied me with the pancakes i needed.

beautiful.
delicious.
divine.
sumptuous.
downright sinful.

if you don't go make pancakes right now, i may not be friends with you anymore. ok, i will be friends with you, but i will question the pull of your taste buds.

p.s. bianca? can we make these as mexican cinnamon bun pancakes? that might send me into euphoria.

things i love #3

don't get me wrong, i like technology.

(yes, i love technology.

but not as much as you you see.
always and forever)

i have a compy.
i have an ipod.
i have a cell phone.
i have a digital camara

i am very grateful for those things. they make my life easier. however, i really really like typewriters.
they just seem whimsical and romantic to me. i can't describe it.

but i'd really like to own one of these:

photo courtesy of

they're really pretty. plus i would feel like Cary Grant's co star in His Girl Friday.
maybe there is a part of me that would still like to be a journalist. but the old timey kind. the kind that wrote on typewriters.

i've seen really cool things done with typewriters.
like this:

photo courtesy of

well, this doesn't actually show what it is. this is from a wedding. instead of having a guest book, they had a typewriter. i'm a fan.

however, since i'm poor, and antique typewriters run between $75-$300. i will settle with these:

photo courtesy of

they are hairpins made out of antique typewriter keys. the asterisk (*). and they're substantially cheaper than the whole typewriter.