Let's Embarrass My Brother because it's His Birthday C:

So today is my brother's birthday. He's 24... or 25... I can't really remember... I just know he's getting old. Anyways.. my brother is my best friend in the entire world. He's been there for me for so many things that I've had to go through. He used to sit outside my bedroom and talk to me FOR HOURS as I tried to go to sleep, and my parents used to yell at him to leave me alone. We argue absolutely everything even if we don't have to. We may totally agree about something, but debate it just to challenge the other person's opinion or argument. I miss that a lot. He's one of the funniest people I know. He's always cracking jokes and not the stupid kind either. He's genuinely clever and hilarious.He can also memorize entire movies after watching them once. So, whenever you say something, there's a chance he has a movie quote to go along with it. He's one of the smartest people I've met, and one of the sweetest and most generous. He's my best friend and I miss him so much, but I really want to embarrass him a little.

So let's tell some stories:

One time, my brother wanted advice on how to ask a girl on a date. Our conversation went something like this... 

Tyler: Hey, how would you want to be asked on a date?

Me: I don't know... like. "Hey do you wanna go on a date?" "sure!"

Tyler: No, like in a creative way. Wouldn't you want it to be creative?

Me: I really just don't care.

Tyler: Well.. what would you want to do on a date? Like a date that would stand out to you?

Me: Idk... something fun?

Tyler: but like what?!!!

Me: I don't know... I just really don't care!!!

Tyler: THIS IS WHY I CAN'T ASK YOU FOR ADVICE!!! YOU AREN'T NORMAL!!! YOU AREN'T A REAL GIRL!! YOU'RE MY SISTER!

(A few days later)

Tyler: Hey Tanisha, what would you want to do on a date?

Me: WHY DO YOU ASK IF I'M NOT EVEN A REAL GIRL!!!!

Yep. I'll never let him live that one down. What does that even mean? I'm not a real girl?!

Ah.. here's another one. My brother and I used to get in fights a lot. Not real fights... just play fights because we'd debate about almost anything (even if we agreed about it) and he'd outsmart me so I would resort to hitting him. Then we'd end up in some awkward fight where he's holding my wrists so I can't hit him and I'm trying to kick him in the shins. Well, one time this was happening, and we went to knee each other at the exact same time and ended up kneeing each other's knees. I can't even describe to you what it feels like to knee someone else in the knee. It's one of the most painful and shocking things that could ever happen to you. I just remember one minute we were fighting, we kneed each other, and then the next minute we were both on the ground half-crying, half-laughing. I think we were in that state for a good 10 or 15 minutes... Good times.

Now I have a ton more stories that I could tell, but I think I'll choose to publicly announce the times that he took advantage of my idolization of him (and also my gullible nature) when we were younger. Let's start with the Hello Kitty pen. One year for Christmas, I was trying to figure out what my brother had gotten me because he just kept telling me how it was the most incredible present ever and I was going to die. So one day, he finally broke down and told me he had gotten me a Hello Kitty pen. I remember in my head being like WHAAAAT?! THAT'S IT?!!! So I followed him around for the next several weeks asking him ALL THE TIME if that's what it was. I even trailed my mom like a puppy dog asking if it was true, and they both told me over and over again that that was it. So, on Christmas morning, imagine my surprise when I open my present and it isn't a Hello Kitty pen. I can't even remember what the real present was... the Hello Kitty pen is just scarred in my mind. Even now it's an on-going joke. Anytime someone asks what their present is, there's a 99% chance the answer will be a Hello Kitty pen.

Okay last, but certainly not least, in fact I think he'll be quite peeved I posted this on the internet. Muahaha. The time my brother taught me about elbow grease. So. I was about 6 years old, which would make him about 10, and our little sister (who was probably close to two at the time) had colored with chalk on the wall behind our bedroom door. So, naturally, it was Tyler's and my job to clean it up. This was surprisingly really hard for my little six-year-old arms, and despite how much we scrubbed, the chalk just wouldn't come off.  I'm sure I remember this a lot more dramatically than it really was because I was six, but whatever. So my mom comes into the room and tells us to use elbow grease. This was a foreign concept to me and so I asked my older, much wiser, brother what it was. He told me to rub my elbow against the wall, and the grease from your elbows would help break down the chalk and make it easier to wipe away. I was honestly amazed by elbow grease and the power of it, and we spent the rest of the time rubbing our elbows against the wall to get the chalk off. Now, this wouldn't be so bad, but I believed it wholeheartedly for WAY too long. One day. when I was twelve, my mom told me to clean the wall under the bar, but that I would have to use elbow-grease because it would be difficult. In my head I'm like, heck yeah no problem! So, I start rubbing my elbow against the wall and then wiping the nastiness away. About ten minutes pass and then I look up to see my mom staring at me from the doorway. 

"What in the world are you doing?"

"Using elbow grease?"

Yeah... after she got over laughing at me, she explained what elbow grease really was, and now I will never let my brother live it down.

Well that's it.. so Happy Birthday Forrest Tyler Ross. I love you, you half-girl, half-child.

I Will Survive Hey Hey

I had the awesome opportunity recently to discover which of my roommates I'm going to band together with in the situation where a murderer makes it into our apartment... or we're all in a horror film or something. See.. I already know that I'm going to be the friend that lives. I found out a couple weeks ago that Michaela's closet is the perfect place to hide. You just crawl into the back behind all of her clothes and BAM. No one will ever find you there. It's great.

But the rest of my roommates... that's kind of questionable you know what I mean? How do you really know who has the best survival skills? So, the other night, Kelsi and I were practicing for our ward's talent show. We're doing the bar scene from The Three Amigos with Steve Martin and Martin Short. If you haven't seen it, you should check it out. Here's the link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r5T8FJ7TldU . But honestly, that's a whole other story in itself.

 So back on topic... we were practicing in our living room. It'd just gotten dark outside, and we hadn't shut the blinds yet. That means that anyone walking past our dorm could see directly into our room if they wanted. We were right in the middle of the dance number when I looked up and saw Derek emerge from the bushes outside our window and start creeping towards us. Michaela was sitting right in front of the window, facing away from it, and Kelsi was still just dancing right along... even though I'd gasped and said "Oh my gosh!" which is obviously an indicator that something's up. This didn't alert them... like at all. Whatever. I guess they just don't pay attention to me.....Dramatic sigh. So when the BANG came from Derek hitting the window, they both started screaming like they'd been shot. Kelsi spazzemed and collapsed on the floor convulsing and screaming, and after seeing that, Michaela dropped off the couch onto all fours, and started screeching and crawling as fast as she could for the door. Somehow during all the screaming and crawling, Michaela's gum fell out of her mouth and into her hair. I wish we had gotten a picture of this because the look on her face... priceless. So after they calmed down enough to assess the situation (and after I stopped laughing my butt off), we all spent the next twenty minutes picking gum out of Michaela's hair. But don't worry, we got it all out. 

It wasn't until about a half hour later that I realized that their reactions could really affect my life. In dangerous situations, Kelsi falls on the ground and convulses, no longer capable of any type of movement... but Michaela... she heads for the nearest exit and far away from windows. Then, I was thinking about earlier in the day... there was this really weird noise coming from the hallway and Kelsi just ran out and started searching for it. That, my friends, is how you get killed. Then, Alex started getting concerned for her and started to go after her but I was like... heck no! You two are those people in horror films that DIE! I'm staying right here.

 In conclusion... Kelsi, never my first choice. Alex... better than Kelsi, but I'd rather go alone. But Michaela... she can hide in the closet with me anytime!

Talmage is of the devil

I hate Talmage William Jones

My Emotional Control is Stored in My Plasma

So, as of late, I've been very busy and I just haven't had the chance to post any of my stories for the past several weeks. But don't worry... Today I bring to you a horror story from the week of Halloween. Donating plasma.

A little background on the situation: when I go to the doctor's office... I cry. No matter what happens, it's almost guaranteed that I will cry at least once during a trip to the doctors.  Senior year of high school I had to get my blood drawn a couple times, and the first time was a big mess. I get all anxious and scared and tense and then angry  and then... tears. So the second time that I went in to get blood drawn, my mom bribed my best friend to come with me so that I'd buck up a little bit.. and she also told me that if I was really good, we could go to Dairy Queen afterwards and she'd buy me ice cream. I found that day that if I had someone to talk to while the blood was being pumped that it really wasn't that bad and I didn't have to cry... so I just talk through it. And yes...I got ice cream.

Well, Kelsi and I decided we wanted to donate plasma for a little extra money. So, for like a week we drank nothing but water and had water chugging contests so that we would be plenty hydrated for donating plasma. Then, we made an appointment and went in. I don't really know why in the world I thought this was a good idea because me and getting blood drawn have not been good friends in the past, but for some reason I was just really excited for this. I think in my head it seemed like an adventure and I was being heroic and conquering my fears. My head was wrong.

The first thing on the agenda once you get there is a screening test. I walk into a little booth and a man makes me stand on a scale and takes my weight and blood pressure and all that fun stuff, and then explains that they have to take a small sample of my blood. I had no previous knowledge that this was going to happen. So I started to freak out a little bit and the tears started welling up. That's when the word barf started coming. It went something like...

"Wow.. a blast screen... interesting. Is this going to hurt? Worse than actually donating plasma itself.. wow. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Wooh. It's okay. We're fine. We're totally fine. Oh. Just so you know.. I might start crying. It's a definite possibility. Yeah, So there's that."

 and then when the prick finally came

 "Ow. oh. wooh. okay. Wow. That was fun. I only teared up a little. Wow. Go me. Hey that was awesome.". 

After he tested my blood (which not to brag or anything he said I have the most beautiful blood he'd seen in weeks... yeah that's right. I have beautiful blood) he said that I should go outside in the waiting room. I was starting to calm down, but the anxiety was still on the surface and suddenly...

 "Hey am I going to have to pee in a cup?"

After laughing off the initial shock of my question he explained that, yes, they would need a urine sample. Then after giving a little too much information on the state of my bladder and how I wasn't sure how possible a urine sample would be despite how much water I'd been drinking, I awkwardly left the room.

At this point, I was really proud of myself for making it this far, and then they called me into the physical portion. This wasn't really all that bad. There were a lot of awkward questions about whether I'd ever shot up with drugs, or been incarcerated in the last year... or prostituted since 1977, but after answering the long list of questions like THREE times, they seemed convinced that I had a pretty healthy and normal lifestyle. There was also the awkward urine sample part, which was a success by the way, but the only truly interesting thing that happened was when the doctor was checking my stomach. He asked if I had any abdominal pain, and began pushing down on my stomach. Then I had the mental image of someone having abdominal pain, so when he pushed on their stomach, they threw up on him. Naturally, this just led to a fit of giggles for me. After nervously laughing along for a few seconds and listening to my repeated giggly apologies, he asked what was so funny, and I said "What if I just threw up on you?". Yeah... that took him a little off guard to say the least. Finally, I answered the awkward list of questions one last time, and moved in to get my plasma taken.

My anxiety was pretty intense. I sat down on the chair and a guy named Matt came to prick my arm and set up all my tubes and what-not. He was actually really good about my uncontrollable talking, even though this time... it was a lot worse and there was a lot more anxiety in . 

"So yeah.. I've never done this before and I really hate drawing blood. Mhmm. So yeah. Ew gross is that the tube? I'm going to be able to watch my blood being drawn? That's so gross. Wow. Um.. Yea. So by the way I'm probably going to cry. But don't worry it's not because I hate you. Maybe some people would think it's because I hate them. But I don't. I just cry. One time my mom had to bribe me actually. Yeah. Did you know my roommate's over there? Her name is Kelsi. Oh you pricked her too. She's awesome. Isn't she awesome?Was she freaking out or is it just me? Oh that's awkward. Not that I'm really freaking out I'm fine. I'm really fine..... Wow. It's over. I didn't cry. I didn't cry at all. Wow. I didn't even cry!!" 

He asked me if I was going to be okay several more times before leaving me alone to ward off my urge to scream ... or sob, and the constant fear that I was going to lose my arm. Then after one grueling hour of trying to hold in all the emotions, they injected my remaining blood with saline back into my veins (which left me shivering for thirty minutes after it happened) and I was free to go home. 

After I left, I was fine for the entire drive home. I didn't feel faint or weird in any way... and then we made it home... and that's when the weird things started happening. We got out of the car and began walking towards our apartment and I could. not. stop. laughing. I was doubled over with fits of insane laughter for absolutely no reason. This didn't really concern me.. I just thought that maybe it was because I was exhausted. In fact when we got to the apartment, I just laid down on the counter. 

At this point, I still hadn't entirely gained the feeling back in my hand and Michaela commented that it looked swollen. This is when the emotional release came. All the anxiety and tension and holding in my emotions just exploded and I started sobbing about my hand being swollen and not wanting to die. Then, as everyone is trying to comfort me in confusion, I started to feel like I was going to pass out. I sat on the floor and then, next thing you know my roommates brought me pillows and a giant teddy bear to lay on. Within five minutes of laying on the floor I was asleep. Then I was awoken by Shalee (who had missed the sobbing fiasco) putting peanut butter on my nose. Immediately the sobbing resumed, and the great friends that I have... took pictures.

At first, I didn't really understand what had happened here about the emotional release. So my first theory was that all of my emotional control was stored in my plasma. Yeah... not all that accurate.. but it made sense to me at the time. Anyways... summary of the plasma event.. it was horrible and anxious and terrible, but I got thirty bucks. And even through all that emotional turmoil... it was totally worth it, and I'm definitely going to do it again. I'll keep you updated.