impedimenta

I told you this would happen! Today, after Thanksgiving dinner with 40 of my closest family members, I hauled a load of my stuff over to my mom's since I have to be out of my place in 2 weeks. I found a box that has a few of my toys from my childhood in it and was discussing with my mom what I should do with it. I'm inclined to toss it. She suggested I put them on my bed.

Seriously.

Because she's in the middle of some weird I-need-to-relive-my-childhood thing. She's nearly 60 (don't tell her I told you that). She painted her bedroom all baby pink and white and put up white lace curtains and has a pink quilt on her bed and her carpet is the color of raspberry sorbet. And she just bought a four-poster bed. I can't sit in her room for too long or I start craving strawberry ice cream.
It's bad.
She's collected rare and porcelain dolls for a long time (her whole life.) And I was really in to them as a kid and pre-teen, but definitely got over it. But I have 2 dolls that she handmade for me. And there's no way I'd ever throw them out, because they're really beautiful and my mother made them for me. But what on earth do you do with stuff like this when you don't plan on having anything to do with them until you have kids of your own and...

What if I have all boys???

Hey ya'll, take a moment to check this out:

Chocolate is my boyfriend

I've been having a stereotypical girl weekend. The problem is that all my girlfriends are out of state. I went to buy face wash yesterday and ended up with 3 new eyeshadow colors, a new lip gloss, and delicious rosemary mint soap. Not to mention the 3 different lotions I tried on. Tonight, my poor visiting teachers had to listen to me rant and rave about my life's mission to help the masses discover their true beauty. And today was the first time in, well, I don't know how long, that I actually missed having a boyfriend. Or at the very least, a cuddle buddy. Instead I curled up with a chick flick and a snicker's bar. It's all good though, tomorrow I'm going to help my sister figure out how to style her disastrous new haircut. That should set everything to rights.

Johnny Lingo this, sucker.

This post is prompted by Jon's comment on my last post about me taking the "reverse Johnny Lingo" approach.

Johnny Lingo can lick my dirty socks for all I care. I'm sick and tired of girls thinking they need to wait for Johnny Lingo to show up with his mangy cows before they know how beautiful or valuable they are. I was interested in a guy once who, when we were sitting and talking alone, told me I was intimidating. When I asked him why, he said it's because I'm the first one to say how beautiful and great I am, but that should be his job. Well, he obviously hadn't done it yet. Why should I wait for him to get up the nerve to state the obvious? Because he never did. It's not like my natural beauty is hidden and will automatically appear as soon as he says it. That's what happened in the Johnny Lingo flick and I think that's warped. Buy yourself some cows and some Frizz Ease and wash your face. That's all he did for Mahana. Geez.

I wrote my last post mostly because it's funny and mostly because it's true. Do you know how many of the "beautiful" people that we worship on TV and in magazines are seriously plain looking in real life? It's make-up. And publicity. How many times have you thought someone was just ok until someone else raved about how gorgeous, talented, funny they are and then you thought so too? It's all propaganda. Preach your own propaganda. You deserve it.

Here are some fantastic quotes from a funny and somewhat crass little book called, "The Sweet Potato Queens' Book of Love," by Jill Conner-Browne.

"They shouldn't be handing out awards for being lucky enough not to be born a dog ball. Life holds few pleasures, if any, more exalted than riding on a float in a sparkly dress with a crown on one's head... What matters, however, is how you get that crown. We're not about to do tricks on national TV for a crown. In life... it's vitally important that you buy your own crown and declare yourself Queen, and then spend the rest of your life living in to that. Pretty will last a short time, at best, but stupid, that can last forever. Fortunately, so can smart."

Don't get me wrong, I love it when men tell me I'm beautiful. And I do think it's part of their job. But if it's their job to tell me I'm great, then it's my job to pay in kind. But I refuse to wait for a gentleman to tell me something before I'll believe it. If I'm already convinced by the time the right one comes along, it won't be news, like it was for my mother. He won't have to constantly try to convince me. I'll accept his compliment with a knowing smile and tell him how absolutely fantastic he is.

My favorite Jon quote:
"You're a pack o' dynamite and I wouldn't have you any other way." Jon, you truly are the Jimmy Stewart of my life. Handsome, talented, funny, and a gentleman. Thanks.

Leah's Guide To Happiness

Lesson 1

If you tell people you are beautiful, they will believe you.

Example:
It's obvious that I'm a remarkably beautiful person, but how would the blind population know if I didn't tell them?

Exercise:
Practice telling yourself how beautiful you are. Then find ways to work it into your conversations with others. Be subtle one day and blatant the next. Find a style that suits you and that you're comfortable with.

Remember: Repetition is the key.

The more you tell others how beautiful you are,
the more beautiful you will become to them.

You are a Social Liberal (65% permissive) and an... Economic Liberal (5% permissive) You are best described as a: Socialist Link: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid Also: The OkCupid Dating Persona Test

200!

I've actually written 200 posts! That's craziness! I couldn't think of anything clever for my 200th blog so I decided to post these photos. Because I love elephants. And I love National Geographic.

In other news, I'll be in Utah tomorrow. I'm peeing my pants with anticipation.