Tuesday, January 28, 2014

a lot of mushy mushy...read at your own discretion

My Husband:

My husband’s name is Jameson. His friends and family call him Jamo [Jay-moe].
On our second or third date, I called him Jamo, and he winced a little and replied, “Ooh… could you not call me that? Only girls who were just my friends called me that.” 
I was a little miffed, “Well, I’m your friend.”  
He replied, “Yeah, but we’re dating. ‘Jameson’ is just more, um, intimate I guess.”
Haha, this let me know he really liked me.

Jameson is my best friend. 
He is six-foot-four-inches tall. 
He loves to play basketball, watch basketball, and read about basket ball (and the news, he's all about the news). 
He loves the Lord, and the Gospel of Jesus Christ
He is bold and blunt. 
He’s learning that bold and blunt isn't always my favorite . . . I guess you could say we’re learning from each other. I’m learning to be more bold and blunt, and for my sake, he’s learning about sugar coating.
He is sooooooo funny. 
Last semester, we had the same hour break between classes. I would call him as I left the fine arts building, and say, "Hi, I'm leaving the building now, where are you?" He'd whisper, "I could be anywhere," and start ninja-ing around campus on the Quad until he'd jump out of behind a bush right behind me! I'd be running around trying to find him before he had a chance to surprise me... we must have been fun to watch. Two adult crazies running around playing ninja spy
Jameson helps me with everything. 
He helps me wake up.. 
He does the laundry and dishes, but doesn't really cook much...
He helps me not skip class, 
He helps me remember to brush my teeth....  
He helps me laugh and not take things too seriously. 

Lately, I've been prettyyyyyy busy and booked and overloaded, etc. He has been a saint. He has helped me remember the things that matter most, and to choose to be happy, and laugh. I love him. 

Yeah... I know this is a lot of mushy mushy brag brag, but it's all true. and hey, I didn't make you read it. ;)

All in all, I love my husband. He is my best friend, my partner in crime, my helper, my protector, my love. 


Theeeeeee Ennnnnd. 

Friday, January 24, 2014

Everybody Poops

Did you know that there are books to teach children that everybody poops? Just Google it. There are children's books, t-shirts, mugs, you name it.
Well, I am the reason those books exist. I am in denial. I get SUPER embarrassed about it. Well, at least in public.

For instance:

At work, I have clogged the toilet. Once. Okay, twice. Twice where I've HAD TO TELL PEOPLE about it. Terrible. {To preface this story, I am an Office Assistant for the ISU Maintenance department. I work around a lot of men.} So... the first time it happened, there was no plunger to be found, and I'm not one to leave it for someone else to find... I had to ask one of the managers for a plunger. He could tell I was already embarrassed, so he hollered across the office, "Hey Mike! Do you have a plunger Becca can use?" Everybody busted up laughing. I laughed too. The second time, TODAY, I was working in the front office... and took a potty break. You know what happened. Luckily, there was a plunger next to the toilet. Like they knew or something.
It was the worst plunger in the history of plungers. It wasn't rubber, like they usually are, and wouldn't seal, or, you know, plunge. I tried flushing again, hoping it would make it better.... and the water started to rise. It stopped. Phew! I was okay. I got back to plunging again. Remember what I said earlier about the plunger? Yeah, worst device ever. No success. So, I did what anyone would do. I flushed again. the water began to rise .. . . . .rise . . rise. . . . . rise. .. and started pouring over the sides!! Gallons and gallons of water all over the floor, completely covering it!

I'm ending the story there. Needless to say, everyone in the office found out that I had clogged the toilet. I had to call one of our guys to come help out, and now all the guys also know I clogged the toilet.

So you know what I'm going to do? I am going to go to my local library, and find the book "Everybody Poops". I'll read it.... then maybe I'll laugh, and feel better.

The End.