PSA: Spin Class? Sucks.

Want to know a funny story? In an attempt to live a healthy lifestyle (because apparently that’s in), I joined a gym and started eating “clean and lean,” a term I heard from some super fit chicks I know.

I decided that since I paid about a million dollars to workout at the DAC, I was going to take full advantage of every perk, including the free classes. So I went to spin class.

Y’all, spin class was the literal worst thing I’ve ever done in my life.

It started out fine. I was just pedaling away on the bike, and then my thighs started burning, and then the instructor said to turn the resistance up to a 9 because “we’re going to climb a hill” and I was like, whaaaat?

9?

So I did. And it sucked so bad.

THEN, she stood up on her pedals and started running. RUNNING.

On a 9!!!!

She also said a lot of other things I didn’t understand, like “turn 3!”

Turn 3 what?

Anyway, this is a picture I took of myself at the end:

Never again.

On This October’s Eve

Look, October is my favorite month and what do you do when it’s the eve of your favorite month?

You celebrate. Live it up. Party. Whatever the cool kids are doing, you do it, because IT’S OCTOBER! Well almost.

Arkansas hasn’t caught wind of the seasons changing and today was another warm one, so I opted for some large-print flower power. And sandals. Yes, all of you Fashion Police are like, “IT’S AFTER LABOR DAY!”

Whatevvvvver.

.

Tonight we whipped up some homemade Butterfinger’s. Which reminds me, tonight I discovered Pinterest. Let’s just call it what it is: an obsession, and I’m taking no prisoners.

Recipe? Only if you’re prepared to go into an intense sugar coma, because these things are no joke.

You’ve been warned.

 

Oh boy this night get’s better: we watched Bridesmaids, played The Marriage Game (one of the only card games I’m good at it) and that led to a lot of secrets being divulged.

As Brette says, “What happens on free travel stays on free travel,” so I’m saying: “What happens in Searcy 205 stays in Searcy 205.”

Welcome October, it’s good to see you again.

 

 

I am and cue the name jokes! “Hey, it’s YOUR season.” Right you are.

Alabama According to Al

 

The road trip home from Florida taught me many things about Alabama.

1) There are random stoplights everywhere.

2) There are 50+ million Dairy Queens.

3) It’s cool to say “Roll Tide” after everything.

Elaboration time:

1) On this Holy Ground that I sit on, at the hour of 10:40 PM, I do declare that Alabama’s road system is bunk. Get me into the Civil Engineering office, residents of Alabama. There are stoplights every 500 feet for a good two-hour driving stretch. It is kind of ridiculous.

2) I was craving a Blizzard like nobody’s business the entire week we were in Florida. But for bathing suit and beaching purposes I denied myself. Finally, on the way home I said ENOUGH! Give me the DQ! But then it was really early when we left, we couldn’t find a DQ where we stopped for lunch, and I was resigned to DQ for dinner. Except by dinner time we had passed every Dairy Queen (and each time we passed one I yelled “Dairy Queen!”) in Alabama and were now in another state—Tennessee. Don’t worry, the story had a happy ending after all, but the moral of the story is: Alabama, share your Dairy Queens.

3) Roll-freakin-tide. By the end of the trip through the whole state of Bama (that’s what the locals say, I’m just being current) our sentences were something like: “Another red light. Roll Tide.” or “DAIRY QUEEN! ROLL TIDE!”

Or sometimes randomly I would say, “Decatur Alabama, Roll Tide” in my deepest southern accent like my friend Emily says.

All of this to say, I’m leaving for Alabama in the morning and won’t be in this blogging universe for a few days.

Instead, I’ll be sitting at stoplights, eating Blizzard’s and saying Rolllllllllllllllllllllll Tiiiiiiiiiide.

Or something like that.

 

 

 

I am and can you hold down the fort while I’m gone? I’d bring you a Blizzard but Alabama is holding them hostage.

This Post Took Some Humility (my best quality)

Sometimes I pretend that I know it all.

Yes, I know how to change the oil in my car.

Yep, I sure do know how to get the static out of my hair.

Of course I can answer any question about Christianity.

Pa-ha!

Truthfully, I am not the most humble person I’ve ever met.

I often take pictures of myself with my built-in webcam. Dell made it so easy!

I do not post them on Facebook, thank you very much. That get’s annoying. Can I get a hallelujah?

I swear I was going somewhere with this post…

Like I was saying, I am not the most humble person, which translates into another endearing trait of mine: I am never wrong. And also, I know how to do everything.

Except, a few days ago I was having a rather deep conversation with my dad about faith and honestly, I didn’t have an answer for his questions.

And I hated that.

AND THEN (I’m getting worked up) I was reading through 1 Peter last night and got to a verse that didn’t make sense to me.

I re-read it three times in an effort to understand. Finally, I was defeated and had to open my ESV study Bible to look for the answer.

As usual, the good ole’ ESV provided the answers I was looking for, but my arrogant self was upset that I didn’t just know.

But I got the message loud and clear. I need to study more.

Knowledge of The Word only comes from studying it and searching for answers when I don’t understand.

That’s what I get for praying for humility.

GPOY!

 

 

 

 

 

I am Al and old habits die hard.

Can I Get A Decade Check?

I was walking to the caf today to meet my roommate for lunch, minding my own business, when I heard a low rumbling noise behind me.

I swerved to the edge of the sidewalk in just enough time for a girl on rollerblades to whiz by me.

I did a double-take.

Rollerblades?

Yes, for the love of all things 1999, she was rollerblading to class.

I pulled out my iPhone and typed up a quick tweet:

“People who rollerblade on campus.”

That’s all I said.

Self-explanatory.

#weird

Bless my sweet roommate who gets my tweets to her phone.

As soon as I opened the door to the caf foyer, there my roommate was, reading my tweet and laughing.

“Dude,” I said. “I just saw a girl rollerblading.”

My roommates eyes swelled.

Then she gestured behind me.

Girl with her rollerblades was standing right behind me.

Foot in mouth.

Thank You For Pointing Out My Misspelling's (and Coincidentally, Misgivings)

Want to know what’s sad?

Why yes Anonymous, it is “cuatro.”
Don’t bother checking to see how I spelled it you curious blog reader you. I spared myself further embarrassment. But what’s sad about this?

I took two semesters of Spanish.

Want to know what else is sad?

My brother and I ventured to Starbucks in the late afternoon yesterday and my caffeine enriched drink had me tossing in bed until 3 a.m.

Side effect: I was 30 minutes late to work today.

Maybe Joseph Smith was on to something?

Want to know what else is sad?

I have listened to Swallowed In The Sea by Coldplay 242 times since October. What? You don’t think that’s sad? Here, take this and call me in the morning.

This just in (via text from Brette):

I digress.

Black Friday

Black Friday is my favorite holiday because competitive shopping is the only sport I'm good at. Bring it on, soccer moms.

Thankful For 'Elf Yourself'

Today I am thankful for Elf Yourself because it is simply hilarious.

Which Came First, The Chicken or The Egg?

Favorite birthday card:

The front reads,

"And lo, the Lord gazed upon the chicken and upon the egg..."

The inside reads,

"And not knowing which should come first, shoveth'd He the egg up into the chicken, and it was good."

-3rd Nephi 3:11

Have a wonderful birthday!

-Ali

*Ali didn't mean the Nephi verse offensively. But come on, old English sounds like that.*

Corndog Pizza?

This is why you're fat

Best.website.ever.

p.s. Wouldn't it have been easier to take the sticks out?

I'll Risk Everything To Save My Shoes

There are many perks to being born the day after Halloween.

Other than the obvious reasons of candy and caramel apples, I mean.

For one, it's All Hallows Day, or All Saints' Day.

How appropriate.

The day has also never left me high and dry when it comes to birthday party planning. When all else fails, a Halloween party will suffice.

Which brings me to All Hallows Eve, October 31 2009.

My friends and I got gussied up in sweater dresses and tights and dined at Chili's to celebrate 19 years of my precious existence.

We then decided to visit Little Rock's most notorious haunted house.

The location: an old, abandoned hospital for the mentally insane.

It was a dark chilly night. It was Halloween. It was a mental hospital. The setting was just right.

Chills chased their way up my skin as we walked up the sidewalk towards the entrance. The man at the door taking money was dressed in old patient garb.

Awesome.

We entered into a small room. There were people grouped up in anticipation. I stood behind my friend and fisted the back of her shirt.

"I'm standing behind you the whole time," I informed her.

Then the "tour of the hospital" began.

It was completely dark and I blindly followed my friend.

Half-way into the tour I decided it wasn't that bad. If I kept reminding myself that it "wasn't real," I would be fine.

People would grab my feet.

It's not real.

Objects would fly out.

It's not real.

We finally got to the end of the tour and I relaxed, releasing my friends shirt.

We were laughing at how scared we were when we heard a loud noise.

RRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMM!

I glanced behind me to see a man running towards us with a chainsaw. Terror I had never known filled my body and my feet started moving faster than they ever had.

Everything was whizzing by me.

I was aware of things jumping out to scare me.

Oh no, nothing was stopping me.

I was getting out of there.

My feet continued to propel me forward when,

WHAM!

I ran right into a glass door.

My body flew backwards from the force, knocking my shoes off and ripping my tights in the process.

In a flash, a friend picked me up and drug me as she ran.

"My shoes!" I screamed and ripped away from her.

As I ran towards the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, I realized that I am the dumb blond bimbo in horror movies that people throw popcorn at.

That's me.

I was risking my life (ha-ha) to save my pink flats.

My personal revelation didn't slow me down any. I had my flats scooped up and was back to my friend before the man hacked me to pieces.

We reached the car and looked at each other as the moment came rushing back.

We were breathing heavy and the October air was coming out in wafts of steam.

Then, we burst into hysterical laughter.

I never saw that door coming.

Reasons I Am Changing My Chapel Seat Next Semester

1. Chapel Couple

Remember, I sit behind the most affectionate couple in chapel? I had to take a picture of them today. It has reached epic ridiculous proportions. Seriously, I think we can all tell who wears the pants in this relationship. Man up, man. And maybe brush your hair. Just a suggestion.

Muffin line

2. Muffins

Today was muffin chapel, which means FREE muffins and orange juice. Even if I wasn't a fan of muffins (which I am), I would still get one, because I'm in college and they are FREE. Anything free, count me in. Except I sit very close to the stage, which is very far away from the doors in the back, which is even further from the steps of the Benson where the muffins were. Which means a very long line of eager students. You better believe I was dashing through people to get closer in line. A girls gotta do what a girls gotta do. That's what I always say.

Happy Weekend!

I Steal SpaghettiOs

My parents always told me that it took different kinds of people to make the world go round.
That was proven to me in college.
I have met (and lived) with some interesting people.
My suitemate is a perfect example.
She has given me some good laughs this semester.

Exhibit A-

SpaghettiOs.
Did you know these are a precious and rare good?
She went home one weekend, and when she returned, I guess she had a hankering for SpaghettiOs.

I was sitting in my room, minding my own business, when she came through my door.
"Hey Autumn, did you eat my SpaghettiOs?"
"No girl, I have my own, how come?"
"Because they were there when I left this weekend and now they are gone."
"Oh, well I didn't eat them."
"Are you sure? If you did I won't be mad."
"I really didn't eat them."


Exhibit B-

Shampoo.
I was using my towel to dry off in the shower.
In the process I accidentally knocked over some of our shampoo bottles. (We have like 1,000.)
I picked them back up and placed them randomly on the shelf in the shower.
Obviously they weren't in their original places.
My suitemate was next "in line" for the shower.
I stepped out, she stepped in.

"Hey Autumn, why is my shampoo in a different spot?"
"Oh, because I accidentally knocked some bottles over with my towel so I just put them back up there."
"Did you use it? I won't be mad..."
"No, I used mine."

Exhibit C-

The incident of the hole punch. In my opinion, this is the craziest to date.
I was sitting on my bed doing homework a few weeks ago when said suitemate waltzes into my room.

"Hey Autumn, remember when you used my green hole punch?"
"No?"

She scans my desk and shelf, looking for her ridiculous green hole punch.

"You used it one night and never gave it back."
"No I didn't."
"Yes you did. I just want it back."
"I really didn't use it. I haven't needed a hole punch all semester."

She leaves.
5 minutes later:

"Are you sure you don't have it? Can you look?"
"I don't have it!! I'll look, but I don't have it!"

Exhibit D-

SpaghettiOs. Yeah you're thinking, "she already wrote about SpaghettiOs."
Why, yes I did. Yes I did.
Beth and I were working out (30 Day Shred!) and using SpaghettiOs as weights.
Enter suitemate.

"Are those my SpaghettiOs?"

I looked at Beth. Really? REALLY?

"Nope, they are mine."
"Oh."

She leaves.

****

To add to her craziness, I find out from a source that she hid SpaghettiOs in a plastic bag underneath her desk and then claimed they were "gone" when she returned. NO THEY WEREN'T!

Exhibit E-

I like to call this Exhibit, "Immature Trash."
The suitmate has an annoying habit of taking a full trashbag out of the can and putting it on the floor beside the can. You're thinking, "Ew, why?"
Exactly.

One day Beth and I came back from chapel and our entire suite smelled like a dead body. After gagging, we figured out that it was her trash. Naturally, we put the bag in the hall so she would see it and take it downstairs.
There it sat, right by her door, for 2 days.
Finally I wrote her a note that read (and I quote)

"Suitemate, can you please take your trash downstairs? We put it in the hall because it smelled really bad. Thanks girl! -Autumn & Beth

She didn't come back to the room that night, and the next day we noticed a note on our RA's door that read,

"RA, I signed out for the night. Just couldn't be in the room."

****

I think my point is proven.




Suitemate, if you ever read this, I HAVE NEVER TAKEN ANY OF YOUR STUFF!
P.S. I'm not "talking bad about you." This is all factual information.