Sunday, January 31, 2010

Yeah. Reeeeal Subtle.

The Scene: Church. Sitting quietly in our pew. Sloan has his arm around me and is stroking the back of my head. Rather forcefully.
Julia: leans over and whispers Baby. You' my head forward.
Sloan: Huh? Oh, sorry, I wasn't paying attention.
A few minutes later.
Julia: Sloan, you're doing it again. And you're mashing my hair.
Sloan: Well, honey. It's just kinda...big.
Julia: What?
Sloan: When you curl your hair, it just looks, well, big. I was just kind of...making it not so big.
Julia: scoots away

Friday, January 29, 2010


Sloan: You look pretty today.
Julia: Thanks, baby. You look pretty too.
Sloan: Thanks.
Julia: pause That, um, didn't bother you?
Sloan: What?
Julia: That I called you pretty.
Sloan: Why would that bother me? I'm flattered.
Julia: But you usually hate...ah. I see what you're doing here.
Sloan: Man, I just looove being pretty!
Julia: Stop it! You're always the winner!!

Thursday, January 28, 2010

While Listening to NPR

Sloan: What was the margin from this past presidential election?
Julia: I'm not sure. It was relatively steep. Several percent.
Sloan: That's what I thought. But nothing like Nixon.
Julia: Well, it couldn't have been that far off.
Sloan: Baby, Nixon won almost every state in his second election.
Julia: Right. Almost EVERY one? I don't think so.
Sloan: Why don't you ever believe me???
Julia: Sloan, presidential elections are relatively close races. Nobody gets totally shut down by nearly every state!
Sloan: What are you talking about? You're just saying things!
Julia: Fine. We'll wiki it. But the nation has never gone that far left.
Sloan: He was a Republican!!

Monday, January 25, 2010


I had a gchat with an old friend today. She's an engineer on the east coast and very, very cute.
Old Friend: Julia, you work for a software company, so you work with a lot of guys don't you?
Yeah, I guess that's fair to say.
OF: How do you deal with being a woman there?
Eh...well, I get my own bathroom. That helps. What do you mean?
OF: How do you deal with your coworkers hitting on you?
Julia: Oy. They, um, don't hit on me.
OF: Come on. Seriously? Maybe it's your wedding ring.
Julia: Well, I don't usually wear mine; it's too bulky.
OF: Or maybe they're just intimidated since they're a bunch of nerdy programmers.
Or maybe they just don't want to hit on me. I'm flattered, but I'm pretty sure you're giving me too much credit.
OF: Well, I'm stressed. It happens every freaking day, and not just the same one person. It feels like everyone. Everywhere I go, even the grocery store. I feel like I'm being cat-called by the general public, so I'm in a constant state of discomfort.
Julia: Well, I don't know how to help. Maybe pretend like you don't speak English?
OF: And I can't handle the confrontation. Do you just ignore them? Sometimes that makes them angrier.
I don't know! I don't have that problem! Even if were scorching hot and wore hot pants year-round, I live in Orem, Utah. Orem! Utah! Not downtown Miami.
OF: So?
Julia: Arg.
What an interesting perspective, to convince others that He's Just Not Into Me. I mean, aside from the occasional homeless man, I remain pretty much unapproached. So while I can't quite empathize, the few times that I am hit on, I also feel dreadfully awkward and self-conscious. Who else has this problem more frequently? Does it really make an impact on your life? How do you deal (politely)?

Sunday, January 24, 2010


I realize that most people do these sort of posts about children. Here are some gems as of late (and by late, I mean, they all happened yesterday because that's as far back as I can remember).

After attempting to make up Shakespeare quotes for like 10 minutes by using sweeping gestures and a bad British accent:
Sloan: Watch out, guys! I'm the next generation's William Shakespeare! Just call me Willie Shakedown, baby! continues to sing/quote/do a jig

After exiting Tai Pan Trading (a home furnishings store).
Sloan: Finally! We spent forever in T-Pain! Let's bounce.

After making any number of jokes that I try not to laugh at (so as not to encourage him), and instead stare coldly at him:
Sloan: while throwing his head back Yaka yaka yaka yaka! Yaka! Yaka!!!
Julia: shouting from the other room STOP SAYING YAKA!!
Two minutes later, I get a text:
Sloan (1:44 a.m.): yaka.

Friday, January 22, 2010

Duty. Dooty.

On the way home from visiting Laura and Jason in Cedar City. I just don't really get it. Don't get me wrong, poop isn't cool, but people FREAK OUT about it. I mean, it's like...morally reprehensible to not wash your hands after going to the bathroom.
Sloan: What are you talking about? Human poop is disgusting and disease-ridden.
Julia: Oh it is NOT that bad. People don't get crazy bacterial infections if they go near poop. I'm just so sick of germophobes. Deal with the poop!
Sloan: Human feces are nasty. Nastier than most animal poop. We eat so many unnatural things that we've turned our poo into this mega-concentrated pile of...nasty. Think about cows. They just eat grass. Their poop is way cleaner.
Julia: Does that mean you'd rather digest a liter of cow dung than a tablespoon of human dung?
Sloan: Definitely.
Julia: WHAT NO WAY. Listen, Mr. Science, you are NOT winning this argument. We're hitting up Wiki when we get home. Winner gets $20.
Sloan: You're on.

Thursday, January 21, 2010


The Scene: In the car with Paul and Jen on the way to Moab.
Julia: "...and did you know that a kangaroo can't jump unless it's tail is touching the ground?"
Sloan: "Whatever. That's not true."
Julia: "Um, it IS true. I read it."
Sloan: "Haven't you ever seen a kangaroo run? Their tails point out, they aren't touching the ground!"
Julia: "I'm not talking about RUNNING, I'm talking about JUMPING. Stop trying to embarrass me in front of Paul and Jen!"
Sloan: "Their running IS jumping! They bound around!!"
Julia: "I can't say anything around you!! Let me just tell people fun animal facts for once!!"
Sloan: "You need to watch a kangaroo before you just assume you know how they work!!!"

Monday, January 18, 2010


What's UP, dummies! [said in a Liz Lemon voice]
Sloan and I went down to scenic Moab (next to Arches National Park) for a little trip with the Clarks (Paul and Jen). I'll begin by taking a few questions from the audience about our winter trip to Moab:
  • Was it cold? Yes. Freezing. And snowy.
  • But isn't Moab in the desert? Yes. I don't even know what the meaning of that word 'desert' is anymore if it doesn't mean 'always hot.' It's a dead word to me. DEAD.
  • Were you personally confused/enraged to discover it wasn't hot when you got there? Yes.
  • Did no one check the weather and tell you that Moab was going to be cold? Yes, everyone did. But I still refused to actually believe it until I felt the wretched sting of winter on my own skin. And...after we got there, I believed it. Because I felt the wretched sting of winter on my own skin.
  • Did you whine a lot, because you're kind of a whiner when it is cold. WELL IT SOUNDS LIKE YOU ANSWERED YOUR OWN QUESTION.
  • Was hiking on the slickrock kind of sketchy since it was covered in ice? Yes.
  • Where you really freaked out because you thought you were going to fall off of any of the numerous icy precipices that you traversed, but you tried to act cool and nonchalant about it so Paul and Jen would think you were hardcore? OMG IT'S LIKE YOU WERE THERE!
  • Did everyone manage to only fall about 2 times during the whole trip, but you still fell like every five minutes? Even on the easy hikes? Ah, I see what you're doing now. You're mocking me. Let's just move on. Here are some fotoz Paul took:

Thursday, January 14, 2010

You Put Da Lime in...NOTHING

As most of you know (but probably continuously forget), Sloan is allergic to citrus. Lemons, limes, pineapple, oranges, etc. Can't handle the stuff. I think that everyone always forgets this Sloan factoid because most of prefer not to imagine a life without such sweet delights. His family forgets, friends, old mission companions, me...we all forget. I wonder if he even goes 48 hours without being offered something like orange juice by someone who has known him for at least 2 years. Poor guy. And (to me) the worst part is that he didn't develop this allergy until he was in college. He had 18 blissful years of lemonade, key lime pie, and grilled pineapple before he had to give it all up. But since it's been like 7 years since the allergy developed, every time Sloan smells that citric acid, he's on alert. He no longer likes the scent, naturally.
ANYWAY, being the not-so-sympathetic person I am, I buy and eat oranges by the crate. And I keep lemonade in the fridge. And he doesn't complain. Except when I get absent-minded about the whole situation.

The Scene: Dinner table.
Julia: Here's your drink baby.
Sloan: Thanks. Eh, honey? This is pink lemonade.
Julia: Yeah...
Julia: face palm

The Scene: Bed.
Sloan: Come here, doodle bear. I want a smooch.
Julia: Ahhhh, my little schnuggle monkey! puckers up
Sloan: Ew, what is that smell? sniff sniff Is that...your chap stick?
Julia: Yeah, I love this stuff. It's orange sherbet flavored...OH COME ON.

The Scene: Our living room.
Sloan: Julia, have you made anything in the past two weeks that's had lemon juice in it?
Julia: No...okay, maybe. Geez baby, isn't there some sort of rule that if you didn't catch it when you ate it, then it's no longer my fault?
Sloan: walks away

The Scene: Restaurant. I'm eating a garlic and lime shrimp dish. He has steak. Sloan leaves for the bathroom and I use my fork to steal some of his mashed potatoes. Sloan comes back.
Sloan: eating the potatoes Eh, did they put lime in this? I didn't notice it before...

Monday, January 11, 2010

We Get It: Little Caesar's and Organic Farming

Think I'm gonna start a new feature of posts on this blog. Yeah. That's what I'm gonna do. It'll be called We Get It. In these posts, I will valiantly and courageously call out various people/organizations for being too over-the-top. I will be a beacon of light amongst the teeming masses of pointless internet opinion. Yes, yes...I suppose you could call this the beginning of a revolution, but I prefer modesty to epic (but totally true) statements such as that. Welp. Let's get started.
Little Caesar's
Hey Little Caesar's, WE GET IT. You have delicious pizzas waiting for us at your store...for only 5 bucks! We KNOW! And we LIKE IT! You don't need the Hot-N-Ready dancers anymore! Please give your poor employees a break. Let them go inside, have a seat. Ask anyone from age 15 - 29 where the nearest Little Caesar's is AND THEY WILL KNOW THE EXACT LOCATION. Hot-N-Ready's are a staple in every college freshman's diet already; must you are you still bundling your employees up and shoving them out the door?? They're tired for goodness sake. And, much more importantly, they make me tired when I watch their maniac two-step as I wait at stoplights. Stop climbing, Little Caesar's, you've already reached the top.

Hey anti-genetic farming community: WE GET IT. You think that we are poisoning ourselves with fruits and vegetables that aren't purchased from Whole Foods. We are a bloated and disgusting nation where food should be difficult and expensive to grow in order for us to be healthy. Fine! Why pay 50 cents for an avocado when I can pay 2 dollars for a smaller, less-robust version? We get it. Now, to be fair, I actually love vegetables, fruits, and fresher food in general. I eat lentils and spinach almost daily (the go-to hipster dish). And I am usually fine with you doing your organic food dance, because increasing the acceptance and understanding of eating healthier is an important and noble cause. However, I absolutely cringe at those who aggressively condemn non-foodies. When it prevents people in impoverished countries from receiving (genetically engineered) more resilient strains of rice and wheat which will better grow in their country, things have gone way too far.

Well, folks, there you have it! Let's do this again some time. Any suggestions for future topics?

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Love/Hate with In-N-Out

The scene: The drive through at In-N-Out Burger in Orem.
Drive Through Guy: Hey there! Thanks for coming to In-N-Out! What can I getcha?
Sloan: Uh, I'll have a double-double animal-style, a burger protein-style, a large chocolate shake, and a fry animal-style.
DTG: Alrighty, guys!Pull up to the first window!
Sloan rolls up his window.
Julia: I feel like we just made the most presumptuous order ever at In-N-Out. We used every trick in the book, like a couple of California chumps. My soul is dying.
Sloan: Whatever, I feel awesome. I'll bet this dude is gonna high five me when we get to the window.

Friday, January 8, 2010

Not Everything About Me Can Be Sexy

Heeeey, friends. News Flash: I walk funny. EVERYONE KNOWS THAT. My feet stick out like a duck. I broke my ankle playing competitive volleyball in high school. Dad didn’t believe that it wasn’t broken = I didn’t go to the doctor. Healed a little crooked. So my left foot sticks out even more (think, like…75 degrees). Plus, it doesn’t help that I have big feet for my size, making me look even more clownish. And, because I walk with my feet out, people always ask if I’m a dancer (apparently ballerinas walk like ducks, too). This renews my shame every time since I have to answer that no, my stupid walk isn’t due to my pursuit of any fine art.

In Washington, we went with the family to a sand spit, which took a small hike to get to. On the way back up the trail, I was in front. My sister-in-law, Mikyn, started laughing from behind.

Julia: turning around What?

Mikyn: giggle Huh? Nothing.

Julia: What? Do I have something on my butt?

Sloan: She’s laughing because you walk like a total freak.

Julia: Oh come on! It’s uphill! I’m tired!

Sloan: You’re sticking your feet out almost completely sideways. And you’re swinging your whole body with each step.

Julia: My legs are short! I have to use my body’s momentum to take big steps!

Sloan: I’ve seen plenty of short people walk uphill. They don’t look like Quasimodo.

A few days later, back in Utah (where everyone is a dancer), I was approached in the grocery store by a girl my age.

Girl My Age: Do you dance?

Julia: annoyed Well…yes. Yes, I do.

GMA: What do you do? Pointe?

Julia: No. Exotic.

GMA: Oh…cool….

She walked away embarrassed, I walked away triumphant (even if duckish).

OKAY, that’s not how it really went. It was more like this:

Girl My Age: Do you dance?

Julia: annoyed Yes. Yes, I do....Okay, no. I just walk like a duck.


Me - 0
Stupid Duck Walk - 1