Provo dating scene.

Yesterday I had the grand opportunity of witnessing one of the most awkward first dates. Now I will never claim to be the premier dating aficionado, not having a particularly rich history in that area, but here are a few observations I was able to glean from that experience. Number 1: I hate the ever-so-broad "So what are your hobbies?" question. I'm not saying it's not important to know the girl's interests, but there's got to be a different approach. The direct "What do you like to do for fun?" path shows me that you have the conversational adeptness of a 13-year old pubescent boy. You might as well follow it up with some comments on the weather. Or maybe some trivia on golf. Number 2: You're LDS, I'm LDS, we like to pray, but please don't say a prayer over the food out loud in the middle of a restaurant on our first date. Or any date for that matter. Finally, number 3: Don't judge me based on my pioneer heritage, please. First of all, who actually cares about that anymore in assessing the qualifications of a future spouse? We're not the Malfoy family; we don't need to be in search of purebloods. And OK, maybe the pioneer stock is important. But is a first date really the appropriate locale for asking if the girl's grandparents have been members their whole lives?

Which reminds me of a funny story from my freshman year here at the BYU. I was visiting a friend's grandma who lived just up the street from us in DT, when the grandma asked me where I was from. Upon hearing I was from Indiana she replied, "Oh, so you're a convert?"

Anyway, ignore the digression. Actually you can probably ignore all my advice on dating. I really don't have enough ethos to fully substantiate my position. These are just a few thoughts from my past Saturday night life.

Elf yourself.

Oh, it's back, and it's better than ever. I can't quite figure out why, but I laugh at those dancing elves every single time. The best looking choices for Santa's helpers, you might ask? None other than my fave tax professors. Meet Boyd, Bob, Dave, and the IRC. And of course I threw myself in there to tango as well. Sometimes dreams really do come true. Even if only on the Internet.

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

John Hancock.

The other day my brother and I were at the store, purchasing something with a credit card. That's when the cashier asked my brother for his "John Henry." I let the blunder slip, but as time passed, I couldn't help wondering if I had failed to exhibit proper patriotic duty by teaching this guy a little basic 4th grade American history. Or if my 7th grade English teacher might be upset that I hadn't given the kind gentleman a brief tutorial on English idiomatic expressions.

Ah well . . . too late to educate that silly cashier now. But for future reference, the appropriate man and expression is "John Hancock."

Not John Henry.

And not Herbie Hancock.

In other news, I decided to do a little research on this John Henry fellow, and found this interesting bit of trivia on Wikipedia: "In Canadian culture, it is common to refer to giving one's signature as a 'John Henry' instead of a 'John Hancock', who was a revolutionary figure or even a traitor, opposed to the Royalty of England."

So maybe the cashier was Canadian. Hmmm.

Counting.

My brother Andrew recently needed surgery on his mouth to pull a substantial number of teeth. In the few days leading up to the event, my mother kindly explained to Andrew that the doctors would be putting him to sleep to perform the surgery. She told him that the doctors might ask him to count backwards from 100 and before he knew it, he'd be out cold. "So," she asked, "can you count backwards from 100?" "Yeah," he retorted. "100, 99, skip a few, 1." Now that's one smart kid.

Welcome.

I would like to take the time now to cordially welcome this precious establishment to Northern Utah. My dearest sentiments are passed your way. Granted I'll be leaving the area shortly, but this place of fine dining will be welcomed just as warmly now as it would have been 4 years ago (actually more so now, since I didn't touch hamburgers 4 years ago and needed the sister Lauren to convert me).

WELCOME.

And as a final note, please add carrots to that list of rude foods discussed below.

I'm famous. A nerd, but also famous.

Yo, check this out:

http://marriottschool.byu.edu/news/release.cfm?article=491

The testing center: the new dining hall.

Students love bringing food into the testing center, the trend is ubiquitous. And can you really blame them? Tests are hard and everyone needs a little sustenance to get them through that long examination.

However, it shouldn't be hard to understand that certain snacks are more appropriate for the testing center setting than others. Think it through really hard. You see, the testing center is quiet. Really quiet. Certain snacks are very loud to eat. Such snacks should and must be discarded before entering the peaceful sanctuary that is the testing center. To name just a few of these raucous treats: chips of any form, corn nuts, and . . . Subway sandwiches. First, to even get to that tasty slab of bread and meat, you have to peel through roughly 14 layers of paper, every piece echoing its crinkling noise throughout the testing center. Once the paper has been removed, each bite consists of chomping and tearing into those fresh and very crisp veggies. Not to mention the smell that wafts to all those around the sandwich eater, causing a rippling effect of stomach grumblings.

So let's desist from the chips and corn nuts and Subway sandwiches and pretty much any other treat that makes excessive noise when eaten. Next time you're at the vending machine, tempted to buy those tasty Doritos to help you through your exam, why not think about some other food form? How about like a bag of fruit snacks? Maybe one of those Chewy granola bars? Or why not just a marshmallow? Those snacks all sound lovely.

When I graduate, I'm taking a trip to Florida.

I have now been gypped of a free trip to Florida TWICE this year. Apparently it’s not meant to be. You see, the economy has been going through a little downturn, I’m not sure if you’ve heard. So two normally scheduled trips for fancy pants accountants like myself have been cancelled. The first time was understandable; I got over it quickly enough. But the second time gets a little disheartening. Oh, I’m not complaining; I am very grateful for my internship and my job. And of course my team’s FIRST place finish in the Deloitte national tax case study competition, with the prize winnings of $2,000 PER person (I’ve turned pretty hip, no reminders necessary). All that stuff is great. I’ve just decided, when this whole thing is said and done, I’m taking my trip. I’m seeing the sights. And I’m going to Disneyworld. I'll probably fill out one of those expense reports, too; just a heads up. I figure the firms can split it 50/50.

Florida can’t avoid me forever.

Classmates.

Sometimes people are pretty funny.

Today, intermixed with listening to a rousing lecture on foreign currency exchanges in my advanced accounting class, my friend Michelle and I were chatting via gmail. Who knows what kinds of oddities were discussed, but eventually we came around to the idea of starting a club, complete with club shirts, secret handshakes, and even nicknames. "What do you want your nickname to be?" I asked her. She took a second to respond, so I looked over at her computer (yes, the chatting was done while sitting right next to each other). That's when I saw a google search up of "Top 10 Stripper Names." Perfect location to find the desired nickname, I suppose. Best comment? "BYU is blocking all the good name sites." Interesting find. Thanks, Bambi.

Later in the day we were discussing how funny it was that we call all our teachers simply by their last names, as if we're all on a football team. That's when Ian piped up, "Yeah, next thing you know we'll be tapping them on the butt, saying, 'great lecture, professor.'" The mental image was too much to bear.

High schoolers.

Yesterday a 12-year old boy pole-danced for me. That red light outside Provo High was exceedingly long.

Old people are crazy.

Apparently Family Feud is targeted to old people; I didn't get the memo. While enjoying the silly show today, I also enjoyed at least one commercial during every break aimed toward the senior citizens of our country. By far the best: a home delivery service for those too embarrassed to buy adult diapers at the grocery store. You can even request a catalog from their website.

I'm so glad I have this to look forward to someday.

Additionally, a funny article I read today:

Monkey Business

A Phoenix, Arizona man facing 37 unpaid photo-enforced speeding tickets says he is innocent.

The Arizona Republic reports Dave Vontesmar says he won't pay up because the photos show a driver wearing either a monkey or giraffe mask.

But Officer Dave Porter from the Arizona Department of Public Safety says that excuse won't cut it because they insist Vontesmar is the man behind the mask: "We watched him four different times put the monkey mask on and put the giraffe-style mask on," before he drove to work.

Interesting way of avoiding a ticket.

Texting.

My brother Andrew has this bizarre obsession with texting and knowing what every member of the family is doing at ALL times. The following is a very typical text conversation between Andrew and me. These conversations occur frequently.

Andrew: Hey

Emma: Hey

Andrew: Are you in class

Emma: No

Andrew: Nap

Emma: No

Andrew: Lunch

Emma: Already ate

Andrew: Then what

Emma: Homework

Andrew: Then what

Emma: I just told you homework

Andrew: After hw

Emma: Whatever I feel like doing

Andrew: Swimming

Emma: Probably not. The pool is too cold

Andrew: Perfect

Emma: Bye

Andrew: Why bye

Emma: I have to do hw settle down

I'll never understand that crazy kid.

Goodbye summer.

I finally had the privilege of being reunited with my car after its long rest in LA. My time in California was completed by all the essentials: a frozen banana, dipped in chocolate and covered in Oreos, salt water taffy (both courtesy of Balboa Island), and Yogurtland.

Artwork.

Not to steal Arrested Development's thunder, but I am currently weighing the pros and cons of opening a banana stand in Provo. And/or franchising a Panera, because we all know they need one of those as well. The evening culminated with a trip to the hotel, where we found this cleverly written "Do Not Disturb" sign: "There's a good reason for you not to knock right now." Mostly awkward by the fact that I was sharing the room with my mother.

Conan entertained us at night by providing some laughs. And fox news kept us up-to-date on the latest happenings. As outrageous as fox news may occasionally be, sometimes it's like a welcome home after a long day in this crazy world.

Funniest moments from Conan: Sometimes I lay awake at night and wonder...Michael Vick wrote, "Who would win in a fight between Goofy and Pluto?" And of course, these adorable creatures, puppies dressed as cats:

Mini dose of joy.

I am currently doing everything in my power to avoid the despicable act of moving. It is times like these (along with almost every second of every day) where I wish I was at Hogwarts and could simply "charm" my luggage to move to my room with the simple flick of the wrist. Perhaps my invitation just got lost in the mail. Those owls can't get it right EVERY time.

At least I'm popular in my dreams.

The other night I had a dream that I hadn't checked my phone all day and when I finally looked at it that night, I had 77 messages waiting for me!!! Not sure the significance of the 77, but that's the number nonetheless. I slept pretty well that night, thinking that my life had reached some new, profound level of popularity. Then I woke up and reality quickly descended upon me. I immediately checked my phone, just to be on the safe side (dreams can predict the future, right??). WRONG. Phone laughed that inevitable blank screen. Oh well. Maybe someday.

In other news, my mom is absolutely in love with the song Low by Flo Rida, as demonstrated by her singing it to me every 3.2 minutes, give or take. And, naturally, instead of paying the $1.29 (or whatever it costs nowadays) to buy the song, she listens for free by watching Step Up 2 EVERY time it comes on Starz. Which is actually quite frequently. Tonight I had the opportunity to mother/daughter bond by watching this stellar flick. Not only does my mother have every word to the song Low memorized, she also has every line of the movie memorized. Something tells me this lady needs to get out more. Before she thinks she can actually dance like these crazy cats, too. Although it may be too late for that. As long as I can deter her from sporting apple bottom jeans and boots with the fur, my mission in life will be close to accomplished.

Shaq.

Watch this show immediately. Pure joy from beginning to end.

Greetings.

I can't really explain why I'm doing this. Nor can I guarantee that this silly thing will last. This is in no way meant to serve as a diary, documenting the dull and mundane pieces of my life. Mostly I wanted this as a place to post funny moments that sometimes come. I can't promise any substantial entertainment value, but I'm giving this life in the blogger world a chance.

And as a side note, I realize that I am currently unmarried and therefore technically not allowed to have a blog. Let's just say that I am trying out a new optimistic stance on life and preparing for all things marriage now.