This continues to be the funniest web comic I've ever seen.

Today I got car hit-on by an INDIAN!!! His nationality made it noteworthy. (Also, car hit-on does not mean a car accident). In Europe, a huge percentage of car flirting incidents lead to relationships and even marriage (or so I've heard). I wish America was more like that. No more trying to make a good impression with your magnetic personality, or intelligent conversation, or your unique sense of humor. Nope, just good looks from the elbows up. And maybe a nice car. Yup, probably I'd be dated with greater frequency....psych.

YES I JUST SAID PSYCH!!! I just got so much cooler.

Today I also met a priest--like, a real live priest, in his priestly garb and everything. Black outfit with the little white collar--I thought it was neat. It was also funny that he was yelling at someone on his cell phone about money. It was also funny that he ended this argument with "God bless you". He was nice to me though.

Katy and I have started calling people, such as idiot pedestrians or people who can't drive, "chump" or "joker". It is more fun than fun.

Today is a day that is sad

Today was a dark day. Today I had to say goodbye forever to every friend I have in the state. Today was the last day of kindergarten.

I held it together pretty well--I teared up when we sang "Each of us is a Flower", but I managed to recover fairly quickly. Yeah, I had to leave during the final chorus of "We All Sing With the Same Voice", but that was just to stave off complete emotional breakdown. It wasn't until the final farewells that I really succumbed to my freakishly emotional genetic tendency. I was actually pretty composed hugging all the kids, even Cameron and Annie, until it came down to Gannon and Wesley. Those tough guys hugged me many times. Gannon handed me a baseball card that he was on (from the Junior Optimist Baseball League! I love that name) and Wesley handed me a Jamba Juice giftcard and yeah, I cried. They felt awkward probably, but Gannon was also worried and wanted to make me feel better so he just hugged me again. Did that help? Not really! Wesley invited me to see Surf's Up with him and his mom today. I wish it was socially appropriate to say yes!

Those kids. I'm going to miss them. A lot. Who knew that 6 year olds would be my best friends this summer?


Gannon


Wesley

Babysitting

I went babysitting last night, for the first time in who knows how long. I felt like I was 12 again, especially because Katy had to drop me off, because she needed the car for work. Sarah--the 6 year old--was thrilled with my camera phone, so it was a well-documented event.

9 year old Ben made us dinner--mmm chicken tenders. The kid was so tuckered out that he fell asleep watching Mythbusters and was out the rest of the night (that made my job easier). Notice the ketchup he is cradling.

I played outside with the girls. We played Movie Star, Lemon Toss, I Spy, and Kill Ants. Sarah and Emma and I are best friends.

Then we made some delicious salami and mustard sandwiches. Apparently, their favorite. Especially 3 year old Emma. She also happens to be one of the most adorable 3 year olds I've ever come across. We all read books until their mom and dad came home.

More proof of her freakish cuteness:

Sarah took 8 billion more pictures. She's going to be a photographer someday--she's pretty good. It was a fun night with cute kids.

When there is nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire

I killed a baby chick the other day. I'm traumatized. It was humane and painless, and ended his suffering, but that's not something I ever planned on doing EVER. Mom and I dropped the dry ice in the incubator, sealed it, and RAN out of the room so we didn't have to hear it peep for help. Then we BAWLED. I'm never doing that again. Luckily, we have Basil and Rasputin to console us.

So far my arm doesn't have to be amputated, but I'm expecting it any day. Maybe it'll just fall off instead--that'd be less painful, I think. Definitely less painful that what I am feeling RIGHT NOW. I have no idea what bug did this to me, but I hope it's dead somewhere. I'm concerned because the doctor said "if the bite does this in the next 48 hours, you're going to have to come back and get it cut" and oh great it's done it. I'm giving it til tonight to fix itself--but I really don't want to go back to the hospital. These antiobiotics should be enough, right?

Last night I hung out with friends. Like, people that I like, who also like me, and we hang out together. IT'S SUCH A BIG DEAL!!!! I even had a good time. I thought maybe I'd feel a bit rusty--I haven't been in a real social gathering in weeks--but it was easy. I like friends. I'd like to acquire some more. But I'd like even more to see my old ones in Provo.

Lost Boys is a cinematic triumph. Kiefer's best role, comparable only to Jack Bauer.

Today I grew as a person. I took a HUGE leap into becoming cooler and more normal and more who I want to be. Today...I danced. I know, crazy. Becca Anderson does NOT dance--ever. At least, very rarely, and never flamboyantly. I can sedately tap my foot as well as the next person, but anything else, heck no. When people say "Let's dance!" and you say "No, I can't dance", they always say "What? Everyone can dance! You just move your body!" But that's where the problem is, because I don't know how to move my body. I am way too uncoordinated and self-conscious. I suck. But I remember Adam telling me about his Saturday morning groove sessions--before anyone in the apartment woke up, he'd just go downstairs and dance all by himself. (I hope those weren't secret groove sessions. Sorry Adam). I never thought I could even do that--too awkward. BUT today I tried it. When I got back from singles ward (which was awful, don't even ask) and the rest of my family was at church, I put on some sweet tunes and tried really hard to dance. At first I couldn't it--even by myself I felt completely ridiculous. But, after a while, I got into it. So, the first song I really really danced to since middle school was, I'm proud to admit, "Don't Pay the Ferryman" by Chris de Burgh. 80s music is so great.

I know it's silly, but this is actually a pretty big deal. What's even more exciting is that I liked it! I enjoyed myself! I still couldn't do that in front of anybody else in the entire world--no friends, no family--but at least I did it! I'll work up to it. Maybe that's how I'll know who I'm supposed to marry--if I can dance like an idiot and not feel absolutely retarded, he's the one. Turns out that "dancing" to me is "jumping up and down and flailing my arms around". So yeah, I suck, but at least I make myself move my body, and maybe someday I'll move my body in front of other humans. I'm just going to keep on truckin'.

In other news, today Mom turned on the tv and what was on? DANTE'S PEAK. Score. Gotta love 90s disaster movies. That's right up there with Twister and Volcano. I'd like to meet the person who could honestly say that they didn't like Twister when it came out. That flying cow was the talk of Strandwood Elementary, I tell you what. Then Katy and I watched a sweet documentary on the History Channel about the mythological allusions of Star Wars. I would like to submit that Han Solo is the coolest character ever created. Luke's pretty neat too, if you think about the whole Savior of the Universe part.

I promise I don't just watch tv all the time.

I have a Latino admirer at work. Awkward. I'm becoming a veritable Kyle Vaughn! I think his name is Jesse, although it might be Ramon. (Is it bad that I can't tell them all apart? I'm sorry, but Orlin looks EXACTLY like Francis!)

Cameron leaves tomorrow--therefore, I am sad. I almost don't want to hang out with him today, because I HATE saying goodbye. Especially to him. It's especially bad because by the time he gets back from New York, his family will have already moved to Texas, which means tonight is our last time hanging out in Concord. I'll miss his house.

I continue to consider the possiblity of filing a sexual harrassment lawsuit against my coworkers, as I continue to get calls of "Sexy girl, sexy Becca" from the 45-year-old ladies in the halls and awkward catcalls from the guys my age. I keep overhearing conversations about me. Only half of it is in English. Since when is being white the only requirement for hotness? Why hasn't this been true my whole life?

I've been thinking about my music taste. I like it. I think it's good. I LOVE what I love, and I make no excuses or apologies, but I understand that a lot of people wouldn't agree with me. So I don't show it off or share it with other people. I just let it be. It's just different.

I don't want to date Cameron. I know I don't, and I wouldn't, so I won't. But I want to date someone who knows me the way he does.

Also--why do I pay so much attention to names? I've known this about myself, but why is it true? It's not really a good basis for judgment. I think I just really like letters, so when those letters are arranged in a pleasing manner, wow. I notice.

Work is getting--dare I say it??--better. I'm starting to realize that it IS worthwhile, because the old people love me. I get in trouble when I talk to them for too long, because really I should be working, but it means a lot to them. They're lonely. I used to feel so bad talking instead of working, and I was mortified when my supervisor reprimanded me. But then this cool old guy John's daughter ran into my mom (they've worked together in stake YW) and she told my mom what a big deal it was that John felt like we were friends. It really changed how he felt about living at Aegis. When Mom told her that I got in trouble for talking to him for too long one time, she just said she was glad it happened anyways, because it was worth it, because it made her dad happier. So today, when Lou Lou from St. Louis, who is an absolute riot, was talking to me FOREVER because she gets so bored and lonesome, I thought "SCREW my supervisor, we're here for the old people, not for the toilets" and we had a nice long chat--oh man, she is so funny. AND I got all my work done. So far, I've learned a lot from the residents. The only thing they have left is family. And that's all they talk about. They talk about their children, or their dead spouses, or their parents. Sometimes it's REALLY sad and I have to try to not cry until I get out of the room. So between that and rewatching episodes of Arrested Development over and over, I'm getting the message loud and clear that family is the most important thing.

My experiment to figure out how much sleep is necessary for me to function at work was inconclusive. I mean, I stayed up late last night, and I functioned at work. But does that mean tomorrow will be worse? Am I in sleep debt? Should I go to sleep early tonight to make up for it, or stay up late again so my body can get used to it? My problems are so severe.