When we're little we all have our dreams. We all dream of growing up and being something awesome; little girls everywhere aspire to be doctors, ninjas, and fairy princesses. When I was a little girl I dreamed of being a horse. Everyday I practiced for my future career as a great mare! I ran around on my hands and knees and neighed at the top of my lungs whenever the opportunity presented itself. I was the best horse on this side of the Mississippi! I would gallop from room to room at top speeds, and leap from couch to couch with unparalleled agility.

One day I decided this was not good enough. I had pushed the boundaries as far as I could. My physical body could not take me any closer to being a horse without the aide of supplies. I needed more! One day while on my quest to become closer to my equine roots I saw the perfect hoof supplement.

It was a glass. Specifically speaking it was my mom's glass. She was watching a movie, and had drunk all of her water. Basically the glass was calling out to me, just asking me to put it to good use.

In my attempt to become a horse, I took that glass and put it on my foot. What else would I have done? I still remember it as if it were in slow motion... My little foot lifting, fitting perfectly into a glass, as if it were Cinderella's glass slipper. I felt so awesome! I had found my hoof! The perfect hoof! I prepared to take my first monumental step as half-horse half-girl.

Deep breath... Ready and .... AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!

I had taken that first step, but instead of being a turning point in my transformation towards a horse it turned into the first step in disfiguring my ankle. The step I took immediately broke the glass and harpooned a piece of it into my ankle.

When my parents realized what was going on panic ensued as the sounds of my screaming mother filled the room. Calmly, I leaned down and pulled out the sizable piece of glass from my ankle. My dad scooped me up and set me on the counter so he could get a better look at my ankle. I remember sitting on the counter, being so high up, and having my older brother bring my dad a washcloths so he could try to stop the blood pouring out of my leg.

Later, when he asked "why in the hell would I stick my foot into a glass?" I explained to him as clearly as I could that it was a perfect hoof.

I still don't understand why he couldn't get it...

When I was little I wanted a sister; so my parents bought me a fish.

I still remember how excited five year old me was! I remember walking down the aisle of the store and getting on my tip toes so that I could pick out my Sister-Fish. I picked out a lovely blue beta and named her (I didn't then realize that the pretty betas they sell at the stores are in fact male) Angel. She was my best friend!!! We did everything together; I took her to kindergarden with me once and also designed castles that (in my mind) I would insert into her tank, so she could live in high style. She could do tricks, and would play with me all the time! She was the strongest, coolest fish ever.

Once, while I was downstairs watching Star Wars, she decided she wanted to come watch it with us too. So she jumped out of her bowl... When I came upstairs after the movie I was horrified to see her lying lifelessly on a sheet of paper.

"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD! DYIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING! DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!!! DYIIIIIIIIIIING!!!!!"

Screaming unintelligibly was probably not the best idea, but it was the best I could at five (and probably the best I could do now). My parents ran into my room to see what the hell was going

on. I pointed to Angel lying helplessly on the paper seeming to weakly be saying "pleeeease, save me."

"SAVE HER DAD! SAVE HER DAD!!!!!" Since he obviously couldn't understand Angel's pleas I thought I would translate them to him in a loud voice while jumping up and down. As my dad began the delicate procedure of putting Angel back into her bowl, my mom escorted me out of the room. Apparently screaming five year olds are not conducive to high-risk procedures.

That night I didn't sleep in my room. I was too scared. I still did not know what Angel's fate would be; to live or to die? I anxiously waited the next morning while my mom went into my room to see how Angel did over the night, my dad told me not to get my hopes up... The hall never seemed so long as that day when I watched my mom walking back towards me to deliver the news... Thank goodness it was good!

"SHE'S ALIVE!!!!" I ran into my room as excited as could be to see mysismybuddymypalmybff! She was alive, and looking better than ever, minus a few scales which had remained stuck to the paper.

I still remember the tension and the terror of the day my sister almost died...

The day she actually died is a different story (actually much worse and extremely traumatizing).

'Tis the Season?

Its almost that holiday time! Where we are all supposed to spread cheer, joy, and love to everyone we know! It is a time for families to come together and appreciate the things they have. So why do the sentiments of peace and love often get swept away in the commercial madness? I believe that America has lost Christmas. Christmas, formally known as one of the most religious holidays of the year, has been taken over by commercial mayhem. The focus is fixed solely on THINGS. We want things from our loved ones, we demand things that we don't need! We have become consumption monsters that do not care what gets devoured in our wake! What happened to the old saying, "Tis better to give than receive"?! Whatever happened, it is long gone and has been replaced by the ugly face of Greed. We give our family and friends long lists of things we want and gripe about giving gifts ourselves. We only want to take.

Hell, this craze even starts around Halloween! Does anyone remember a small (admittedly insignificant) holiday by the name of Thanksgiving??? If not I will refresh your memory. Thanksgiving, while based in America's dark and ugly past, is a holiday where you sit down with your family and give thanks for all of the blessings in your life, and often people would share blessings with people less fortunate. It was a holiday for giving, not taking. It brought people together in a simple way, over a meal, to realize and reminisce about what is important in their lives. These days no one speaks of Thanksgiving, except in terms of not having school. The once sacred holiday is now being steamrolled by capitalism. Thanksgiving used to be a day designated to family, now it is the day companies use to springboard their holiday shopping. This year, for the first time, Sears will remain open on Thanksgiving. And, don't even get me started on Black Friday. People die! They get trampled to death people! All for what? Having the latest and greatest iPod?

I propose that as a society we take back Thanksgiving, and the real meaning of Christmas. Think about giving to the people you love, as well as to those who are in need. Lets all take this as an opportunity to show that we are not in fact Commercial Robots. Lets take this as a moment where we can reach out to our fellow humans to better their and our own lives. Instead of going and buying things, use your purchasing power to NOT go to Sears, and other stores open on Thanksgiving.

Take a stand, and try to think back to the days where the holidays where full of family, friends and sharing moments rather than things. Give it a try and see if it doesn't feel good. If it doesn't... I will personally take the blame for your shitty Christmas and give you a jar of Peanut Butter.

Sometimes I get an idea in my head and I just cannot let go. Despite my loved one's (mostly Megan's) best efforts to persuade me to change my mind, I remain obstinately steadfast in my resolve. Some examples include the time I thought it would a great idea to steamroller battle down the halls of my high school, the time I dyed my hair blue/pink/purple, the time I pierced my belly button or the time that I thought it would be awesome to throw my underwear at John Nolan.

Why did I think it would be a appropriate to throw my pair of lace panties, accentuated by stars and moons at my favorite artist? That's a good question. One I have yet to find the answer to.

I don't even know how it all got started. But, lets be honest? What better way is there to show your love of music? Do panties not automatically translate into "You are Awesome."?

The saddest part of the story is not the resolve I had to give the gift of panties... but the fact that once they were given they were largely ignored. I still remember leaving the concert...my panties unnoticed on the stage. Lonely. Sad. Forgotten. I wanted to crawl back on the stage and claim them. To take them back with a screw that attitude. If they weren't wanted there, they would have a home in my drawer, happy among other panties. But, no. I left them to their fate. After all what could I really do?

Apparently, a facetious attitude gets you nowhere.

Peanut Butter Monster.

We fear monsters of all shape and size. Our battle cry has become "Tigers, Lions, and Bears OH MY!!!" But, much like our good friend Dorothy we will discover there are far scarier things lurking about in the dark, things much more ominous and threatening than our furry friends. I think we all know to what I'm referring. The Peanut Butter Monster.

The Peanut Butter Monster is not a foe to be trifled with. One taste, nay one sniff, of peanut butter goodness and the Monster is created. Quickly turning into an unstoppable force, inhaling all the peanut butter in the house, and everything that stands in the way of said inhalation. Like a recovering alcoholic the peanut butter monster will be sent into throes of corruption with just one hint of their vice.

I hope some of you can relate to my trails, if not some I'll settle for one sympathizer. You've been there yourself? I was there several times myself last...week. My brother was making a sandwich and before I knew it I was shoveling peanut butter into my mouth. From here it gets fuzzy, as I passed in and out of awareness, but I have brief recollections of my brother attempting to pull the jar out of my hands, he now mourns an arm (kidding, it was only a finger). I remember waking in a puddle of my own drool with peanut butter smeared across my face, in my hair, and caked on my fingernails (explained by matching prints along the sides of the jar).

I hope to say I have recovered since then... Its been three hours and I remain peanut butter free. Its a struggle everyday, but I remain strong.

Hmmm... what is that haunting aroma.....

I hope this can help explain to some of you...Just how much I really, really love PB.

(Some, if not most, of the details in this story may be partially or totally fabricated)

November is here! It's almost winter! I can't believe it! Thanksgiving is coming up =) Thanksgiving, Tofurkey galore!

I can't believe so much has happened, I don't think I have processed it yet!

I went to the Zombie crawl with some friends last Friday (Oct. 29). It was a blast

! I've never really done something like that before. We dressed as zombies and roamed the streets of Ogden spreading chaos and zombie-ness in general. Francis (hard hat zombie) and I were not the best zombies. We were easily distracted, which slowed us down, and spoke real people words. For John, who never broke his zombie character (except when he dropped his keys in the middle of scaring a child) this was unacceptable. So, he left us to fend for ourselves! We could have been attacked by unruly zombies from the hoard! Lucky for us we knew how to defend ourselves with our zombie skills.

After the crawl there was an after party at the union station. It was kinda shitty, except for the raffle. John did the Jaw-Drop, which is where you get as many tickets as you are tall from your chin to the floor. He kept winning over an

d over! He had over $50 worth of gift certificates, when he noticed the little kids sitting in a circle eagerly around the announcer and prizes. He turned to share some tickets with the kids in his close proximity, but as soon as the other kids saw this they stormed the floor! Instantly he was surrounded by 20-25 zombie children chirping for tickets. It was like bees on honey, fat children on cake, white on rice, moss on wet Texas tree stump, or if we're being honest... It was like many greedy children hoarding someones generosity. It was hilarious! He was surrounded with no way out, so he dropped the tickets. In one swift movement the children fell to the floor to retrieve them. This of course resulted in some crying, some blood, and dissevered limbs (just kidding). This was all made up for of course when the kids won quite a few p

rizes themselves. It turned out great for everyone. The kids got prizes, I got to laugh my ass off, and John didn't seem like a douche for taking all the goods.

After the party we went back to John's house to watch some scary movies! Instead Francis and I decided we wanted to watch Supernatural because... the boys are hot of course. So we sat around eating tacos, passing ...Grape juice back and forth, and absorbing the sheer terror (gorgeousness) of Supernatural! Eventually, which is code for way too late, I decided it was time for bed. Morning came way too soon, and before I knew it I was shaking John awake to take me to work.

Anything decent from this story ends there.

Other than being a zombie on the weekends, a zombie to school work during the week, and eating human flesh in my spare time...