Thrifty Thursday

Puritan shirt? $3.00

Pants that USED to be $70.00....$10.00

And awesome shoes. The brand is Mushrooms? What?! $4.00

Hate the hay,

Love D.I.

That's where my outfit it from today. Even though it took 30 minutes to walk there. On the way home
I shouted at a bunch of cars: "HEY YOU! YA, YOU! GOT ANY CHARITY, HUH? CAN'T GIVE A POOR COLLEGE GIRL A RIDE HOME FROM THE STORE? WHO ARE YOU ANYWAY!?" I don't think anyone heard me. I just had to keep saying to myself, "Just over the next rise, Shelby". That inspiring statement was actually written on my shirt. I was in the 10000 FT Hiking Club. And that was our motto. Too bad I never actually went on a hike with them. Maybe it would have prepared me for college.

College life is different...yet, adventurous.  For instance:

I ate a huge box of raspberries from the Horticulture department while walking to my next class. 15 minutes: 200 raspberries. Hopefully, my stomach handles that alright.


I shoved a roommate into my closet. And legitimately tried to keep her there.

I burst into tears during class when my choir teacher from High School texted me.

I keep waving to everyone...but hardly anyone waves back. Maybe it's a Utah thing?

I heard today from a boy in my Book of Mormon class that Idaho has bigger mountains than Utah. EXCUSE ME?! But, WHAT mountains? That little hill you can see when you climb on the roof? Ya, no. No mountains.

I walk into my dorm and my roommate hides her frosting/nutella/ice cream behind her back. I think she's downed a can of each.

I bang my head on my bunk bed/desk contraption every day. Hopefully, I don't loose too many brain cells.

I have too look at my creepy Child Development textbook each day. That alone gives me nightmares.


I jumped onto a desk in my Children's Literature class pretending to be a monkey. There are no Freshman in that class and I'm pretty sure there were arrows pointing at me, blinking lights, and a creepy computer voice monotonously repeating "FRESHMAN. FRESHMAN. FRESHMAN." I realized I was a bit large for desk hopping when three chairs crashed over and one hit me in an incredibly and painfully uncomfortable spot. I don't think people normally act like a monkey in college.


I bought a 5$ movie from Wal-Mart instead of other crucial needed products for survival. I'm not really sure why, because it's only going to give me a good dose of heartache each time I see it.

I danced silently in my kitchen while a boy was giving a flower to Hannah in the living room.

I listen to Billie Holiday and vacuum. Then lay on the couch and stare at the ceiling in between classes.

I save all the envelopes I receive and hang them on a clothes line in my room.

I keep creeping on people when they exchange numbers and try to inconspicuously take a picture. Awesome.


I had a Sunday Breakfast Party.

I held the sun in my hands.


There are probably a plethora more oddities I didn't mention. Living on my own I realize I love cleanliness. I love being independent. I LOVE having my own kitchen and living room and bathroom. So wonderful. I'm thinking of making a peach pie soon.

I sorta like this college thing.

Know the Code

Posters EVERYWHERE.

Ya, ya. I know BYU-I has a slightly ridiculous Honor Code. No overalls, too. I'm waiting to see that poster when I cross campus. I bet it'd say something to the effect of:

"Overall, it's not professional"

or

"We aren't hicks, overall (Don't make fun of the farmers)"

And have a picture with a lady in overalls and, of course, the little hand in the corner holding the arrow pointing out the inappropriate attire.


These fantastic four posters I came across touring campus today. I'll let you know when I see the overall one.

I'm sure it's here somewhere...

I'm Almost Idahoan. And Most Definitely Not British.

Europe. Yes, you are about to hear a small story.

My first stop: London, England.

I couldn't wait for London. I mean, Hogwarts is in London; it's BOUND to be magical.

But... London happened to come at me sooner than I expected. After our 5 hour layover in Atlanta, Georgia I steped on the long planeride to England and found my seat.

Of course, I am sitting next to a 19 year old British guy who has just been touring America and is flying home (all the girls on my flight were surprisingly friendly to me those eight hours).

William. His name is William. Could it be more... English? Nope.


Mostly he was as fasincated by my "American-ness" as I was fasicanated by his British accent. So we made good friends.

British Accent 101:

Wat-uh (Water)
Al-oo-min-ee-um (Aluminum)
Lit-uh-er-ly (Literally)
Tom-ah-toe (Tomatoe)
Po-tah-toe (Potato)

Those were the more obvious ones. He begged me the whole time to order my water in a British accent...but I couldn't do it. When I asked him to do an American accent: "OH MY GOSH! THAT IS SO LIKE GREAT!"

Sad, huh?

Also, he pulled out his phone and said,

"Want to see the funniest thing I saw in America?" (British accent)

"Ya! Of course!"

An Idaho license plate:

He shows me a picture of an IDAHO LICENSE PLATE. Huh?!

Look closely. Maybe your eyes can find something hilarious that mine didn't...

"Famous Potatoes it says. Famous Potatoes!" (British Accent)

Then he laughs for about five minutes and holds back tears.

Maybe he didn't know Potatoes could be famous?.......

I said "Haven't you ever heard of Idaho's famous potatoes?!"

"NO!" (British Accent) (continued laughter)



I think I refrained from telling him I was moving to Idaho in a month...

Or maybe I did and he sat and stared at me for a couple minutes wondering who in their right mind would move to Idaho.

He admitted, "Us Brits, We see America as L.A., New York....and everything else." (British Accent)

SAD! Sad, sad, sad.

Western culture is such a part of here.

And I love it! Even if I'm slightly nervous about the crop of men to meet me in Potato Land. What if they are all "Buttcrack Bills"? (That's what I like to call 'em) You know, redneck, cowboy, manuer lovin', bull ridin', grease wipin', hicks?


I'm moving out it less than two weeks.

Please, oh, PLEASE Idaho, be slightly less Agricultural than your liscense plate and my Brit friend William make you out to be.

I'm not riding my horse up there, you know.

No, We Don't Wear Long Johns

This, my friends, is the Frampton Family Crest:



Take a good look. A REALLY good look. Perhaps, look past the fact that it has no majesty or granduer in any way and it's just a chunky old man in his red long johns. Look for the symbolism. You know, the whole "read-between-the-lines" thing, but it's a picture instead. Or maybe we could use the phrase "Don't judge a book by it's cover" but say instead "Don't judge a family by it's crest".

Last year, my dear Grandma Dixie, was going to buy the Frampton Family (all 80 of us) a shirt with our family crest on it. Sounds like a pretty great idea right?! Perfect family reuinion souvenior.

Then.

We saw our family crest.

And that idea died a horrible death and was buried with no ceremony.

Well, I didn't think I would ever have to see our family crest again, until my Girls Night Out the other week at my cabin.

There we are playing a good round of Mafia, when I look around and see it. Framed. On the mantel above the fireplace. Obviously, the game stopped momentarily while everyone admired that historical picture.

We came to the conclusion that having a fat man in long johns really means our family will be prosperous. I mean, if you were fat in the old days you were royalty! So, we must be royal. And if you wore long-johns......you were, free? Yes. Free. So our family will forever be blessed with prosperity.

At least where food and pajamas come in to play.

perhaps?...

prepare

pounce

perk up

protect

present

...panic

Oh no.

Yesterday my older brother got married for time and eternity in the Mount Timpanogos Temple. Along with bridesmaid duties and being the official-unofficial photographer, I was one of the "single ladies" that got to participate in the bouquet toss.

I didn't mean to catch it. 

I just....did. Competition. You know? I had to. At least try.

I tried to give it to my older sister afterwards. 

She wouldn't take it. 

It's just fun and games right?

There's no TRUTH behind all the "rumors". 

I mean, someone I know caught the bouquet in fifth grade. THEY didn't get married next.

No. I have nothing to worry about. 

Nothing at all. 

Best Friend Tryouts

Last Summer,

I decided to get rid of Hannah and get a new Best Friend.










JUST KIDDING!


We just wanted to do something a little different than the usual summer night activity. (Also, we were in dire need of friends. Who isn't?!)

So we held tryouts. Not just ANYONE can be our best friend. I mean, come on! They have to be practically perfect in every way. And since Mary Poppins is a fictional character, we had to find someone else.

It was a brilliant plan, really. We set up a table and chairs, had pens and paper for notes, a HUGE sign for advertisement, and a couple judges.

You know, I have to admit, I didn't think anyone would want to stop. Hannah and I just aren't that cool.

Fifteen kids! FIFTEEN people wanted to be OUR Best Friend! Incredible.

So we put them to the test.

Simple, really.

1) Sing The Star Spangled Banner. (We had to know if these guys were really patriotic. I mean, I know people who don't even know the WORDS to our National Anthem! Some of them didn't either...Plus, having a good voice does help your chances)

2) Dance for 30 seconds to a song of our choice. (Hannah and I, we dance. There's no way someone could be our very best friend if they weren't willing to get in the groove. The most frequent song choice: Never Gonna Give You Up, by Rick Astley. If you haven't heard it, look up the music video on youtube. It's a gem.)

3) Answer a few questions about true friendship. (This one is obviously most important.)

Turns out we made FIFTEEN friends that day! FIFTEEN! Amazing, huh?!

We even got a date. Believe it or not.

Two young men in suits got down on one knee, asked up to be their best friends, presented us with flowers, then took us on a date in an suite elevator for a picnic. They didn't kick us out surprisingly, so we called in and complained about ourselves. What an adventure. But that, is a different story.

Ahem.

We concluded that making friends is easy. Well, as long as you ask for it. We did. Fifteen friends in one day? That's an accomplishment.

Now you ask, "Why are you telling this story NOW, Shelby? That was ages ago!"

Right you are!

But, we are doing it again. And soon. Before the end of the Summer. Be on the lookout. Intersection by Kohlers, table with a huge sign. You just can't miss it.

I hope to see you there!

The Biggest Loser

This post has two stories.


1) Heartthrob of Lone Peak High School. Captain of the football team. Student body president. Babe. Genius. Perfect man. Everyone loves him. He loves everyone. My heart melts when I see him.

Get the picture?

He walked past me after graduation and yelled:

"Hey Sherry!!!!!!"


What a way to end High School.........

How terribly heart-wrenchingly sad.



2) My Best Friend/Ally who I've seen every single day for a month.

We killed my first target! SUCCESS.

Then:

He betrayed me.



We pinky-promised.               Then kissed our pinky-promise.             That's how strong the promise was.



We had an alliance.

The director decided to make the game interesting and give us all new targets.

My Best Friend/Ally was with me when the new targets were received.

He Smiled.

And stabbed me with his whisk.

I hate him.









(Well, I don't really hate him. But I do)






























Assassin is over.


I am The Biggest Loser.