Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Monday, May 30, 2011
Assassins 2011: C.T.U.
The mission started today.I recieved my target at midnight.
Had a horrible dream about razor sharp flying whisks stabbing me in the back.
Prepared my whisk.
Encountered an agent.
RAN AWAY FOR MY LIFE.
Ducked behind cars.
Gasped for breath.
Everyone is suspicious.
I can trust no one.
I must stay in the game.
Mission Objective:
Kill all targets without getting killed yourself; last agent standing gets a pay check
Rules:
1. You may not play this game on property owned by any religious denomination. This includes facilities of worship, temples, religious parking lots, seminary buildings, etc. Playing Assassins on religious property will result in your immediate termination from the Counter Terrorism Unit, no exceptions.
2. No agent will play on school grounds while classes are in session. If your assigned target leaves school grounds to go off campus they are free game to kill
1. 3. Each agent will be assigned a target via email. To kill your target you must touch them with a wire whisk.
4. Agents can only kill their assigned target.
6. Play at your own risk.
C.T.U. Operations:
As shown , each agent will receive a randomly assigned seat in a circle of new agents. Each Agent will be given a target within that circle. Looking at the diagram, Agent 1 must kill Agent 2; Agent 2 must kill Agent 3, and so on.Hypothetically, say Agent 1 kills Agent 2; Agent 1 will immediately report the assassination to director Jolley, and will then receive their new target via text message. Agents will only know their target and not the entire circle- meaning Agent 1 will know they are assigned to kill Agent 2, but Agent 1 will not know who Agent 3 is assigned until Agent 2 is dead. No Agents will know who is tracking them, so they must stay alert.
Let the game begin.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
"And I Present....
Most Likely To Be Eaten By A Whale....
To:
Shelby Frampton!"
WHAT?!
What?
Ya. I have no clue what that's supposed to mean.
At the Senior Dinner Dance last night, out of the 700 seniors at Lone Peak High School, the fifteen or so awards given, "Most Likely To Be Eaten By A Whale" just had to be one of them. And it had to be presented to me.
Even though I am secretly happy just by the fact I got any sort of award at all, I'm still in confusion.
One explanation I received:
"Whales eat seals. They must mean you look like a seal."
Another:
"Maybe it's because you are lying and deceitful and don't follow God's will like Jonah. He was eaten by a whale."
(Ouch)
And a third:
"It's cause you always have such CRAZY stories to tell to people!"
I think I will go with the latter. What do you think?
Then I got slightly worried. Since, you know, it was supposed to be the end of the world tomorrow. Maybe it wasn't the end of the entire world. But it could have been the end of MY world. Eaten by a whale?! Yes. I probably would have died. And that would have the end of me. The end of my blog too. So be grateful. Although, being eaten by a whale would be a sweet death story...
No worries. I survived.
So did everyone else.
Sorry if you wasted money of outlandish things or got injured doing something crazy before "the end of the world". But good for those who repented! Don't procrastinate!
I'm alive.
Confused.
Mildy pleased.
And REALLY hoping people don't think I look like a seal.
To:
Shelby Frampton!"
WHAT?!
What?
Ya. I have no clue what that's supposed to mean.
At the Senior Dinner Dance last night, out of the 700 seniors at Lone Peak High School, the fifteen or so awards given, "Most Likely To Be Eaten By A Whale" just had to be one of them. And it had to be presented to me.
Even though I am secretly happy just by the fact I got any sort of award at all, I'm still in confusion.
One explanation I received:
"Whales eat seals. They must mean you look like a seal."
Another:
"Maybe it's because you are lying and deceitful and don't follow God's will like Jonah. He was eaten by a whale."
(Ouch)
And a third:
"It's cause you always have such CRAZY stories to tell to people!"
I think I will go with the latter. What do you think?
Then I got slightly worried. Since, you know, it was supposed to be the end of the world tomorrow. Maybe it wasn't the end of the entire world. But it could have been the end of MY world. Eaten by a whale?! Yes. I probably would have died. And that would have the end of me. The end of my blog too. So be grateful. Although, being eaten by a whale would be a sweet death story...
No worries. I survived.
So did everyone else.
Sorry if you wasted money of outlandish things or got injured doing something crazy before "the end of the world". But good for those who repented! Don't procrastinate!
I'm alive.
Confused.
Mildy pleased.
And REALLY hoping people don't think I look like a seal.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
Hakuna Matata
Care free? No worries? Mmmmhmmm.
I am happy.
I love old people.
Especially my Grandma Frampton.
And dancing at old folks homes.
I love the sun.
I love public speaking.
And graduating seminary.
My dad and grandma spoke at their seminary graduation!
I like following in their footsteps.
I love sliding down walrus statues.
And eating snocones on tailgates.
I love the art show!
Mostly cause I'm in it. WOO!
I love Hannah Banana.
I love my family.
A LOT. More than usual.
I love St. George trips with a bunch of girls.
And hot tub parties.
And chick flicks.
And other mysterious things that go on at girls parties...
I love this new self-serve ice cream CRAZE.
I love sentimental objects. Old keepsakes.
I think I'm being knighted tomorrow.
Watch out.
I am happy.
I love old people.
Especially my Grandma Frampton.
And dancing at old folks homes.
I love the sun.
I love public speaking.
And graduating seminary.
My dad and grandma spoke at their seminary graduation!
I like following in their footsteps.
I love sliding down walrus statues.
And eating snocones on tailgates.
I love the art show!
Mostly cause I'm in it. WOO!
I love Hannah Banana.
I love my family.
A LOT. More than usual.
I love St. George trips with a bunch of girls.
And hot tub parties.
And chick flicks.
And other mysterious things that go on at girls parties...
I love this new self-serve ice cream CRAZE.
I love sentimental objects. Old keepsakes.
I think I'm being knighted tomorrow.
Watch out.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
HA!
HA!
HA HA HA!
Take THAT.
WOO!
HUEEEEE-YOW!
Tha'ts right.
I never have to take an AP test again in my life.
EVER.
NEVER EVER.
You six that I took. Oh YA.
I SLAMMED.
DONE.
High School Academics: Check.
HA HA HA!
Take THAT.
WOO!
HUEEEEE-YOW!
Tha'ts right.
I never have to take an AP test again in my life.
EVER.
NEVER EVER.
You six that I took. Oh YA.
I SLAMMED.
DONE.
High School Academics: Check.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
My Middle Name Is Certainly NOT Grace.
I am not graceful. Whenever I accidently don't sit in my chair but sit on air instead, or my ankle is almost broken by my incorrect heel-usage, or I fall down a mountain and land on a tree, or I try to move my chair like a train but it snags the carpet and I do a half circle through the air and get stuck in between my desk and the floor, or when I am laughing SOOOOO hard that I get all sweaty and have to pee and I run out of the classroom, etc. When these things happen, I laugh jovially and with a charming smile I look up at the person closest to me, flip my hair and tell them in a sultry voice "My middle name is grace, you know?" And I almost wink. But I don't.
This is a defensive mechanism.
My middle name is not Grace. It's Alyse.
Also, I am not saying this because I actually believe I am in any way graceful.
It's a defense mechanism. (Something to do with saying the exact opposite of what you really mean.)
This realization was confirmed Saturday. I can go a couple months convincing myself that I can be lovely and eloquent; then moments come along that....DESTROY ALL LADY-LIKE PROGRESS.
And now I present: One of Shelby's completely ridiculous embaressing stories that happen frequently, but bring much joy and laughter to all who occupy the same relative space.
Once upon a time, Hannah and I play this game called Iron Chef. It's wonderful. Saturday morning we had this completely charming new friend of mine come and play with us! Secret Ingredient: Bananas. After battling for the banana cream pudding in the closet and throwing flour on each others backs, I pulled through and won. Woo! We then decided to sit on the sun-kissed roof and discussed Dumbledore taking the light out of the lamp post across the street with his Deluminator. It was perfect time of day to frolick through a meadow. So, in the sunset we skipped and laughed in a meadow. With some daisies. Then we pet a llama and it almost kissed my friend. We traveled to the top of the valley and let the cool breeze blow through our hair.
Everything was going swimmingly. I felt pretty. I felt smart. I felt witty. We went on adventures. It was sunny and blue. What could go wrong right?
We are then cordially invited to a SUMMER/GRADUATION BASH! We decide to drop by. Fashionably late, of course. This is where we went wrong.
At first things are fine. We played some soccer and jumped on the tramp. Then the hostess pulls together a game of Wiffle Ball. (Baseball with one of those plastic holey red balls and a really small field). Progressively through the day my digestive system is working, as digestive systems do, and in the middle of the game I realize I REALLY have to go to the bathroom. So I wait for the teams to switch from being up to bat to playing the field. This time arrives and I tell everyone to wait for just a minute as I quickly relieve myself. As I am in a wonderful mood, I don't want to keep people waiting, and I am slightly distracted; I RUN up the porch stairs and through the open door into the house.
In reality, that doorway had two doors. One was open. One was a screen.
SMACK.
That is the noise created when I ran, RAN, into the screen door.
RIP.
That is the noise of the screen door ripping in half because the force of my weight plus the momentum of my body was too much to handle.
Eeeeeeeerggggphm.
That is the noise of me falling onto the floor in the middle of the kitchen with the hostess' family waiting inside.
HAHAHAHA.
That is the noise of everyone laughing at me.
...At least I didn't pee my pants.
I begged for forgiveness.
Cried laughing for a while.
Then fell into a thorn bush and ripped a bleeding gash into my leg.
My middle name is NOT Grace.
This is a defensive mechanism.
My middle name is not Grace. It's Alyse.
Also, I am not saying this because I actually believe I am in any way graceful.
It's a defense mechanism. (Something to do with saying the exact opposite of what you really mean.)
This realization was confirmed Saturday. I can go a couple months convincing myself that I can be lovely and eloquent; then moments come along that....DESTROY ALL LADY-LIKE PROGRESS.
And now I present: One of Shelby's completely ridiculous embaressing stories that happen frequently, but bring much joy and laughter to all who occupy the same relative space.
Once upon a time, Hannah and I play this game called Iron Chef. It's wonderful. Saturday morning we had this completely charming new friend of mine come and play with us! Secret Ingredient: Bananas. After battling for the banana cream pudding in the closet and throwing flour on each others backs, I pulled through and won. Woo! We then decided to sit on the sun-kissed roof and discussed Dumbledore taking the light out of the lamp post across the street with his Deluminator. It was perfect time of day to frolick through a meadow. So, in the sunset we skipped and laughed in a meadow. With some daisies. Then we pet a llama and it almost kissed my friend. We traveled to the top of the valley and let the cool breeze blow through our hair.
Everything was going swimmingly. I felt pretty. I felt smart. I felt witty. We went on adventures. It was sunny and blue. What could go wrong right?
We are then cordially invited to a SUMMER/GRADUATION BASH! We decide to drop by. Fashionably late, of course. This is where we went wrong.
At first things are fine. We played some soccer and jumped on the tramp. Then the hostess pulls together a game of Wiffle Ball. (Baseball with one of those plastic holey red balls and a really small field). Progressively through the day my digestive system is working, as digestive systems do, and in the middle of the game I realize I REALLY have to go to the bathroom. So I wait for the teams to switch from being up to bat to playing the field. This time arrives and I tell everyone to wait for just a minute as I quickly relieve myself. As I am in a wonderful mood, I don't want to keep people waiting, and I am slightly distracted; I RUN up the porch stairs and through the open door into the house.
In reality, that doorway had two doors. One was open. One was a screen.
SMACK.
That is the noise created when I ran, RAN, into the screen door.
RIP.
That is the noise of the screen door ripping in half because the force of my weight plus the momentum of my body was too much to handle.
Eeeeeeeerggggphm.
That is the noise of me falling onto the floor in the middle of the kitchen with the hostess' family waiting inside.
HAHAHAHA.
That is the noise of everyone laughing at me.
...At least I didn't pee my pants.
I begged for forgiveness.
Cried laughing for a while.
Then fell into a thorn bush and ripped a bleeding gash into my leg.
My middle name is NOT Grace.
Monday, May 9, 2011
I often go walking
in meadows of clovers. Frolicking joyfully while the sun is setting. With a new wonderful friend. With daisies in my hand.
I gathered an armful for you.
On Saturday, I ran into a screen door and ripped it in half on accident. Embaressing moment of the year: yes. But it gave you a good laugh yesterday.
I'll run into more. If you really want.
I opened my yellow daisy lunch box today. It had strawberries and a brownie and a bagel. Eating food at lunch always makes my day go better.
Thank you.
I did some service yesterday. You taught me to serve people. You taught me to love people too.
I can't wait to be a mom. I'll teach my kids the same thing.
I really don't understand the American Girl dolls and creepy easter chicks for decoration on the kitchen counter... they are slightly embaressing. But they make me laugh.
And they make you, you.
I looked through my baby book. I was a dang cute baby. Thanks for putting that book together so I can see all the things I did as a baby.
Thanks for reading me stories.
Playing cards is always a good pasttime. Or baking cookies together.
Mother, I give you my love with those daisies.
I love meadows, and stories, and baking, and cards, and serving, and laughing, and children, and friends, and daisies.
And I learned how to love them, dear Mother, from you.
I gathered an armful for you.
On Saturday, I ran into a screen door and ripped it in half on accident. Embaressing moment of the year: yes. But it gave you a good laugh yesterday.
I'll run into more. If you really want.
I opened my yellow daisy lunch box today. It had strawberries and a brownie and a bagel. Eating food at lunch always makes my day go better.
Thank you.
I did some service yesterday. You taught me to serve people. You taught me to love people too.
I can't wait to be a mom. I'll teach my kids the same thing.
I really don't understand the American Girl dolls and creepy easter chicks for decoration on the kitchen counter... they are slightly embaressing. But they make me laugh.
And they make you, you.
I looked through my baby book. I was a dang cute baby. Thanks for putting that book together so I can see all the things I did as a baby.
Thanks for reading me stories.
Playing cards is always a good pasttime. Or baking cookies together.
Mother, I give you my love with those daisies.
I love meadows, and stories, and baking, and cards, and serving, and laughing, and children, and friends, and daisies.
And I learned how to love them, dear Mother, from you.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Creepinest Creepin' Internet Creepers
You know those times when you know something, but you don't really care, then one day...your belief perseverance, ignorance about life, and intentional blindness of creepy people BLOWS UP IN YOUR FACE?!
I mean, I've always known the internet was public.
Duh.
I'm writing a blog for goodness sake. Yes, I too participate in the new (old) social network of facebook. It's got it's pros right?
And yes, I admit, I completely facebook stalk and blog stalk my friends and sometimes complete strangers. Look to your right for evidence.
So, I confess, I can be a creeper. But it's all done with good intentions and love and people put up there stuff for a reason and I suppose that reason is so I can stalk them.
Today I realized people cross the line of creepin'.
I walk into school, excited about the prospects of the day. After all, it was my first AP test! And I SLAMMED it. I even had forty minutes to sleep after I finished the test before they would let me leave! So it was all good and exciting.
As I am walking through the halls during a lunch an acquaintance stops me and tell me how absolutely gorgeous my picture is in the school newspaper. This is a little confusing to me because I never recalled having my picture taken....especially not an "absolutely gorgeous" one. I tried to question her. But she had places to be and people to see so I didn't get any info. Immediately, I begin my search for the paper.
What is the school being exposed to? Should I be worried? Is it really an "absolutely gorgeous" picture of me? Where in the world would they FIND one of those? No one ASKED me if they could put my picture in the paper.
I find it.
A rack full.
I'M ON THE STINKIN' FRONT PAGE.
The papers gently slide down the rack as a pull for one revealing 30 different pictures of my face smiling up at me in the most unnerving way possible.
But the worst part. The most horrifying thing.
It's not just me in the picture...
Yes. That's Christian. And yes. That's MY prom pictures. Not the schools. Not even Christian's. MINE. MINE MINE MINE. I didn't sign any sort of consent form. I didn't give any permission for MY prom pictures to be taken off facebook and used in the school newspaper. CHRISTIAN DOESN'T EVEN GO TO LONE PEAK!? What is this.
So then I was determined to figure out who was responsible. Obviously, it must be one of my good friends who knew I wouldn't mind to have my picture in the paper and was running out of time for a deadline and couldn't find me to ask me about it.
Nope.
Someone I don't even know.
Talk about creepin'.
That's not the only picture either. It reappears in the middle of the paper!
Couldn't find it? Here:
Part of me is entertained. Part of me is slightly violated. And part of me is embarrassed.
But mostly, I am totally creeped out.
Maybe I will get rid of my facebook.
Or maybe I will stop writing on my blog.
But....oh that would be such a shame!
So I say this creeper and I reach a compromise. I'll be careful about the things I say and post (I thought I already was.....but security has INCREASED) and you, creeper, will not take my pictures and put them in the school newspaper without my permission.
Deal?
Thank you.
I mean, I've always known the internet was public.
Duh.
I'm writing a blog for goodness sake. Yes, I too participate in the new (old) social network of facebook. It's got it's pros right?
And yes, I admit, I completely facebook stalk and blog stalk my friends and sometimes complete strangers. Look to your right for evidence.
So, I confess, I can be a creeper. But it's all done with good intentions and love and people put up there stuff for a reason and I suppose that reason is so I can stalk them.
Today I realized people cross the line of creepin'.
I walk into school, excited about the prospects of the day. After all, it was my first AP test! And I SLAMMED it. I even had forty minutes to sleep after I finished the test before they would let me leave! So it was all good and exciting.
As I am walking through the halls during a lunch an acquaintance stops me and tell me how absolutely gorgeous my picture is in the school newspaper. This is a little confusing to me because I never recalled having my picture taken....especially not an "absolutely gorgeous" one. I tried to question her. But she had places to be and people to see so I didn't get any info. Immediately, I begin my search for the paper.
What is the school being exposed to? Should I be worried? Is it really an "absolutely gorgeous" picture of me? Where in the world would they FIND one of those? No one ASKED me if they could put my picture in the paper.
I find it.
A rack full.
I'M ON THE STINKIN' FRONT PAGE.
The papers gently slide down the rack as a pull for one revealing 30 different pictures of my face smiling up at me in the most unnerving way possible.
But the worst part. The most horrifying thing.
It's not just me in the picture...
Yes. That's Christian. And yes. That's MY prom pictures. Not the schools. Not even Christian's. MINE. MINE MINE MINE. I didn't sign any sort of consent form. I didn't give any permission for MY prom pictures to be taken off facebook and used in the school newspaper. CHRISTIAN DOESN'T EVEN GO TO LONE PEAK!? What is this.
So then I was determined to figure out who was responsible. Obviously, it must be one of my good friends who knew I wouldn't mind to have my picture in the paper and was running out of time for a deadline and couldn't find me to ask me about it.
Nope.
Someone I don't even know.
Talk about creepin'.
That's not the only picture either. It reappears in the middle of the paper!
I Spy: Shelby and Christian at Prom
Couldn't find it? Here:
Part of me is entertained. Part of me is slightly violated. And part of me is embarrassed.
But mostly, I am totally creeped out.
Maybe I will get rid of my facebook.
Or maybe I will stop writing on my blog.
But....oh that would be such a shame!
So I say this creeper and I reach a compromise. I'll be careful about the things I say and post (I thought I already was.....but security has INCREASED) and you, creeper, will not take my pictures and put them in the school newspaper without my permission.
Deal?
Thank you.
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