My Husband, Wikipedia

Dear Wikipedia,

I think we should get married. Here's why. You are pretty much my favorite thing. Today I looked up Rabbit-Proof Fence, Katy Perry, and The Infinite Monkey Theorem (all I had to type in was "monkey typewriter" and you knew what I meant. True love). Because of random knowledge about things like this, I can impress boys and win free bowling passes (I won a pass yesterday because I knew who did the voice of Sally in Nightmare Before Christmas [Catherine O'Hara, duh.]).

But maybe I shouldn't want to impress boys if we're married. Dear Wikipedia, I'm sorry if I turn out to be a sucky wife because I use your knowledge to impress boys. BUT! I promise I will use my free bowling passes to go on dates with you.

Some people think you are not trustworthy and your user-run database can be biased or messy. But I know you better than that. I know that the Encyclopedia Britannica WISHES they knew as much about Jonathan Freeman as you do (the voice of Jafar in Aladdin). Or left-handedness (we have had 6 left-handed US presidents). Or the Taiwan Taoyuan International Airport. Nice try, Britannica.

I even had to look up how to spell "Britannica" on Wikipedia. Suck on that!

I won another bowling pass because I knew that Gnarls Barkley's music video for his song "Crazy" is made up entirely of a graphic based on the Rorschach Inkblot Test. (Thanks for helping me spell Rorschach, Wikipedia. You're such a pal!) This trivia knowledge didn't come from you, though, Wikipedia. It came from your close cousin, YouTube. And my mom's random love of this song. Thanks, Mom and YouTube. You can come hang out with me and Wikipedia after our wedding.

Wikipedia, life would be grand with you by my side. I just Wikipedia-ed (verb!) "Marriage" and found a picture of the two of us. It was meant to be.

XOXO,

Asia

The Car Music Game

I got some feedback yesterday that said I may be posting to my blog too often. I have been posting a lot lately, but it's because my creative juices are really flowing this week and I just don't want you to get bored reading it. Plus... if you don't want me posting too often, just don't read it? I dunno what to say.

Anyway...

I have some really great knowledge to impart today.

...

See below.



I really like driving groups of people in my car. Whenever my ward needs drivers for activities, I always volunteer. I just really like my car and I really like playing The Car Music Game. You play it like this: using music on your ipod nano, get everyone in the car (or as many as possible) to sing along/say "I love this song!" Sometimes it's really easy. Sometimes it's really hard. I've decided to make this game easier for you (especially if you're a beginner, but really I've become quite the expert at this). Here is what I've learned:

Songs that will get everyone singing/loving life 98% of the time:

1. 1,000 Miles by The Proclaimers
Every time. No exceptions. People dig this song. They will break into parts and sing the "da da da da!" part really loud and proud.

2. Tubthumping by Chumbawamba
Unless you have a car full of depressed people (are you driving them to therapy??), they will sing/shout along.

3. Never There by Cake
This is great because there's that one part where you think they're gonna yell "You're never there!" but they DON'T and you can see who is a true fan and who is not.

4. Paper Planes by MIA
Be careful with this one because it's kinda... offensive? It's just a little more extreme than some people are comfortable with. BUT! In the right audience, it's golden.

5. Toxic by Britney Spears
Whether or not you like Britney, you like Toxic. Everyone likes Toxic.

6. Tracks 2-9 of the Queen Greatest Hits album
Queen is a winner almost always. You have to play their well-known-but-not-overdone stuff.

7. Taio Cruz or Jason DeRulo
I'm not sure how long these will last, but if you were to play any songs by either of these guys today, you'd be fine.


These are songs you should never play:

1. Anything by the Beatles
It's not because they're not good. They're very good. But if you play the Beatles, people feel the need to share all the knowledge they have on the Beatles, the 60s, and their opinions on politics.

2. Anything from Phantom of the Opera
If you play anything from Phantom, the fun sing-along atmosphere of the car ride will be changed into a concert. That one girl/guy (you know the one...) will start singing in their very best operatic voice and everyone will feel uncomfortable.

3. Miley
You will be tempted to play Miley because she is so great. Everyone loves Party in the USA, right? Well, you have to save Miley for an all-girl car ride or you'll have to suffer polarization of your car passengers. They will break into pro/anti-Miley groups and conversation will be tense.

4. Blue by Eiffel 65
You think this one would be a hit! And it is! But only for like 15 seconds. Then people start to judge you for even having longer than 15 seconds of it on your ipod.


It's not a science, but I've been playing this game for years and this is what I've come across. The hardest people to play this game with are the roommates. They are tricky... All I've figured out so far is that they will sing along to California Gurls, Replay and some Celine Dion. They didn't even fall for my secret weapon (that is -- Backstreet Boys' Millennium album). It's exhausting.

The Scariest Blog Post EVER

As my favorite holiday approaches (they're ALL approaching, aren't they? So you don't even know which one I mean. I'm being all cryptic and stuff today. Because being cryptic is spooky. It has the word "crypt" in it. I love spookiness. Ok my favorite holiday is Halloween.), I've decided to tell you a story about my most frightening moment ever.

It was the summer between junior and senior year (I think? Maybe no? Anyway... it was summer and I was in high school). My family decided to go on a cruise to the Bahamas. It was a party.

We stood in the crazy long line to go through security and board the boat. Then, once on the boat, we had a freakin' long drill for what we would do in an emergency. They don't tell you about any of this stuff beforehand. Basically the whole first day is bureaucracy.

BUT! After that, the party began.

My most frightening moment was a couple days into the cruise -- once we were actually on an island. If you're picturing this in your head, fast-forward through all the boat partying (including when I discovered the 24-hour pizza delivery!!!) to the part when we're on Freeport, a Bahamian island.

Me and my super presh fam decided to go to the beach, then look at some souvenir shops. We all got in a cab and headed off to our destinations. From place to place, we took taxis driven by nice Bahamian dudes, one of whom was named Boaz.

As our day was coming to a close-ish, Ace (cool name, eh?), my oldest brother, discovered that he'd left his phone in one of the taxis. He was pretty sure it was Boaz's taxi. Then, for SOME reason, I decided to be brilliant and take it upon myself to find Ace's phone. I flagged down a taxi and told the driver what had happened. He said he could help so I got in the taxi. We drove and drove and eventually came to a huge parking lot FULL of empty taxis.

Did I mention that I was like 16? I started getting a little scared at this point.

The taxi driver parked and got out of the car, telling me to stay put. I sat there in the hot car, surrounded by lots of empty taxis. I was alone. 16. Abandoned. In the Bahamas. For a little while I tried to think of what my chances were of surviving if I got out of the taxi vs. if I stayed in the taxi. I kept thinking of movies like Brokedown Palace and I decided to get out. I wandered around for a little while until I saw my taxi driver talking to some other taxi drivers in Bahamian (just kidding; that doesn't exist. It was English). He then turned to me and led me across the parking lot to one of the parked taxis. He opened the door and there was Ace's phone! Hooray!

We then went back to his cab and he took me back to my family. We got on the boat and I wasn't kidnapped by a Bahamian. So my story is actually not that scary because everything was fine and he was really nice etc, etc, etc. BUT it was a really poor decision on my part to go off by myself on that quest.

You're welcome, Ace. Hope you're loving that phone.

Secret No More = Panic Attacks

OK. I decided to tell people about my blog. I no longer only have one reader. I have like 8 or something.

Now I'm really anxious that I've said lots of offensive or revealing things that no one wants to know about. What if all my readers are sports-loving, taco-eating robots that don't think I'm funny?

I know! I'll capture your attention by talking about Britney Spears. You see, I love Britney Spears.

I even saw her in concert when I was 11.

I just really like her.

A lot.

Oh no.

The pressure got to me and I can no longer think of anything to say at all....


I like hot dogs?

And Doritos.....

and.... ponies??

But that's a lie. Ponies are only 50% as excellent as full-sized horses.

Because they are only 50% as big, I guess.


Anyway... if I haven't scared you away yet, stay tuned. I'll try to post something awesome soon.

Piano Troubles

I can play 6 hymns on the piano. I can play them well and I often trick people into thinking I am a regular pianist. But as soon as they ask me to step outside of my happy 6-hymn-repertoire, I say no way, jose. But I don't mean to be rude when I say no way jose -- it's just that I can't, Jose. Can we still be amigos?


Back when I was 15ish, I volunteered to play the piano for opening exercises of Wednesday night mutual. I had learned to play "Called to Serve" from the Hymns Made Easy songbook and I had become pretty good at playing it by myself.

What I didn't realize was that playing the piano by yourself and playing it with people singing was 2 different experiences. Very very different.

Nonetheless, I sat myself down at the piano and began to play. As people began to sing along, I choked. My fingers just couldn't seem to find the right keys. I didn't give up though. My brain went into panic mode and I just began pushing any button that looked appealing. This ended up not sounding at all like "Called to Serve" from Hymns Made Easy, but more like a bad version of a John Cage arrangement.

The sing-alongers became confused and weren't sure if they should continue in their quest to sing "Called to Serve." But they plowed on anyway, shooting me sideways looks wondering if they should call for help.

So there we were, I was having epileptic panic spasms at the piano producing the occasional note and the singers were torn between their desire to sing a hymn in reverence to the divine and their fear that my piano-induced rage may be putting them in danger.

One girl, Ashley, started laughing at me. She laughed and laughed. Turns out she had asthma and her laughing fit turned into an asthma attack and she had to go home.

Now I'm very careful about when I play piano for hymn-singing. It can be very dangerous.

My Personal Calling in Life

When I was young, I was obsessed with unicorns. There really was no better thing that I could possibly imagine than a unicorn. I was also convinced that long ago unicorns roamed the land making everyone's lives better and curing cancer and sorrow.

Then, the wily Noah (of Genesis fame) decided to gather up the animals for the ark and missed a vital member of the animal kingdom. I held a little grudge against Noah for a really long time because of this oversight. Unicorns had to be God's favorite animal. Noah, you're the worst.

BUT! Unicorns, in their infinite awesomeness probably sneaked onto the ark anyway and just hid from everyone. After the flood was gone and everyone was looking at the pretty rainbow, the unicorns frolicked away, trying ever to stay under Noah's radar. They have remained in hiding ever since.

I then decided that it was My Personal Calling in Life to find the hiding unicorns in question. There had to be at least one out there, right?

For Christmas one year, my dad asked me what I wanted. This was a given. "I want a unicorn." Dad said he would get me one. I must not have been specific enough because I got a 6" plastic pony (that didn't even have a horn!). I forgave him though, because we were pals and there was no way finding a unicorn would be so easy that a dad could just go get me one for Christmas. I cut him a break.

Additionally, my family listened to a lot of Moody Blues when I was young. There is one song in particular that I loved listening to. It is called "I Know You're Out There Somewhere". The lyrics are these:

I know you're out there somewhere. Somewhere. Somewhere.
I know you're out there somewhere. Somewhere you can hear my voice.
I know I'll find you somehow. Somehow. Somehow.
I know I'll find you somehow. And somehow I'll return again to you.

This song was, of course, about my mission to locate the (most likely endangered) unicorn population of the world.

Just to report, I'm still looking for my equestrian friends. I'll let you know when I find them.

"Mom on a Mission," stop selling crack

8:00pm on Tuesday evening. Roommates and I are sitting on the couch watching TLC or "When Tigers Attack!" or something. We hear a knock at the door. My roommate goes and answers the door. A tall lady with dark curly hair and glasses holding a plastic bin full of cookies and pastries happily greets all of us. She announces herself as a "mom on a mission".

She is selling baked goods to help pay for a trip to visit her kids in Ohio. They live with her ex-husband. She says they trade custody every other year and this year she's without them. She says she has a bad back and has to wear special shoes so that she can accommodate her walking-heavy, door-to-door mission.

She says she's not begging, but being self sufficient because it's irresponsible to ask the bishop for help. She says she can take a card if we don't have cash and shows us what I only assume is a credit card reader (complete with card logos on it). I'm not sure how it comes up, but she mentions that she has a daughter living off-campus in a similar set-up as us.

My roommates go get their cash and buy croissants and the like.

She turns to me and says, "How about you? Would you like to help?"

I stare back and say, "No, thanks."

My roommates think I'm a heartless wench. The "mom on a mission" leaves -- onto the next apartment to peddle her (crack laced??) pastries.


OK. Before you judge me for being terrible, there's more. In my experience here at BYU, I've seen this lady 3, maybe 4 times. She always says the same exact thing. Always flashes her crazy shoes and tries to get a firm commitment out of everyone in her line of vision. She's always trying to go visit those kids in Ohio. I bought some weird bread the first time I saw her and I think I just gave her cash the second time. I did not eat the bread.

I explain this to my roommates and they are not sure what to think. They are also worried they will die of dysentery, having already begun to partake of the goodies.

The thing is -- I don't know if I buy her story. She's clearly coherent enough to be an awesome sales person. Why doesn't she work at a car dealership? Or a cell phone store? Or... anywhere? If she and Mr. Husband trade custody every other year, why did I see her last year? And the year before? Maybe she does work somewhere and only peddles pastries on the side.

Is she unable to get a job because she's crazy? Why does she think that 20-year-old kids in Provo have an expendable income to help her with her personal problems? News flash: We're all poor and we're all trying to get home to our families (I paid $700 for a plane ticket to go home for Thanksgiving). Perhaps she's just trying to make money without paying taxes on it to support herself. Who knows. It just weirds me out.

Have you seen her? Does anyone have any info on this lady? I googled every combo of words I could think of to turn up results on this lady and came up with nothing. Let me know!


P.S. Mom on a Mission, if you are in fact a Mom on a Mission and you really are just trying to visit your kids in Ohio, I apologize for thinking you're a drug dealer. You still weird me out, though. And I still don't want to give you my money.

P.P.S. It's maybe important to mention that my roommates didn't die of dysentery. They were actually fine.

Birthday!

So... yesterday was my birthday! Hooray!

I really like my birthday. I feel like every good thing that happens on my birthday happens because it's my birthday. Additionally I feel like everyone I see is a guest at my day-long party. It's a great way to live life.

Last year I decided that I was going to be mature and have a small dinner party with some close friends. It was a lovely evening.

This year I regressed and went back to demanding parties. It was awesome.

My favorite part of birthday bash 2010 (other than the beautiful flowers my mom sent me at work <3) was at 11:58pm last night.

My roommates and I were sitting on the couch watching Friday the 13th: A New Beginning. My cell phone told me that I only had 2 minutes left of birthday merriment. I announced this to my roommates.

They decided to make these 2 minutes count.

All 3 of them started chanting/singing happy birthday wishes. This lasted the full 2 minutes until my birthday was done. Do you know how long 2 minutes is? Right now, I want you to sit still for 2 minutes.

It's really long! Anyway, these crazy birthday chants eventually came to an end at 12am, Oct 21. I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe.

Thanks, ladies. And thanks to everyone else who made this year count!

Why I'm Scared of Mexican Food

I'm going home for Thanksgiving this year! This is the first time I've been home for Thanksgiving since I was 16. I'm pretty much stoked. I really like my family. And they're probably even better in November because everyone knows that November rocks.

Once upon a time, though, I decided to go to college a gillion miles away from home. This made going home expensive and therefore not-very-often. My freshman year the plan was -- go home for Christmas, but stay in Utah for Thanksgiving and bum off your cousin's holiday.

I could handle this. It was a good plan. I really like my cousin and he's basically my only family that doens't live in the Southeast.

During the week leading up to Thanksgiving Thursday, lots of my friends were shipping off to enjoy Thanksgiving with their families that didn't live in Florida. Only a hand full of us remained in the deserted land that Provo had become.

My fellow rejects and I were... well... college freshmen. We'd recently become obsessed with a 24-hour Mexican restaurant that had breakfast burritos and loads of greasy, gooey foreign food. We went on Tuesday night and thoroughly enjoyed the quesadillas or whatever it was we ordered. We laughed, drove around, felt cool and finally went home.

6:00am the next morning:

I wake up with a really confused stomach. It's telling me something is not right. Not at all right. Luckily stomach and I made it to the bathroom on time for the greasy Mexican food to be expelled from my body. This wasn't fun.

Much to my dismay this happened again at 7:30am. And 10am. And 10:30am. I'd never thrown up so much in my life. I hobbled out to my car to take myself to the health center.

While hauling myself into the driver's seat, surprise! I was recognized by the parents of one of my classmates from 2nd grade. How on earth did they know it was me? Maybe sick, gross 17-year-old me closely resembles 7-year-old me. Anyway... this was no time to chat because I could vomit at any second. So I was kinda rude, but needed to get to a hospital asap. If you ever read this, Jensen's mom, I'm really sorry that I was in too big of a hurry to stop and chat. I hope you're well.

So I made it to the hospital where a nice lady asked me too many questions and I was like "all I want is to stop throwing up". And she said I had some kind of gastro-enteritis or something like that and said she'd give me a shot to help me stop throwing up.

She led me into an exam room and pulled out a shot. Then came the surprise -- the shot was going into my hip. What? I didn't even know that happened. I asked the lady if it was going to hurt and she said, "Yea. This is one of our nastier shots." She actually used the word "nastier".

So I'm basically scared for my life as she sticks the nasty shot into my hip. It did hurt. I managed to get back to my car and go home. Where I threw up three more times. Thanks for nothing hip shot.

So the next day was Thanksgiving. I woke up feeling fine and actually had a lovely time with my cousin and his family. I didn't eat too much for fear of vomit-ation, but was actually ok.

The nurse-lady said that my gastro-enteritis wasn't caused by the Mexican food -- it was just a virus going around. However, this has kept me away from Mexican food except on special occasions or when I feel like I'm being judged for not loving it.

Why I am incapable of adulthood

Turns out I need car insurance. And I have to be a grown up and pay for it myself. I mentally and financially prepared myself for paying for car insurance. What I was not prepared for was mail (paper mail, mind you) coming to me full of scary grown-up jargon asking me if my identity had been stolen and here's your policy number and please verify and comprehensive $698.00 quarterly annulment scary scary words...

Bless his heart, my agent, Scott, was so patient with me as I took 5 years trying to find my routing number and figuring out what limits I want (this basically consisted of forwarding all his emails to Mom so she could tell me what I want). Now that I'm pretty sure I have car insurance, I'm kinda lost. The following is an email I sent to my car insurance agent.

Hi Scott,

I'm sorry for being practically incapable of being an adult, but I'm wondering what happens now... I guess I have a policy, right? And each month about $120 will be deducted from my account to pay for it?

I've received some mail from Allstate, but can't quite decipher what it is. One of the letters said that I need to verify my identity with someone? Anyway... What do I do now?

Thanks.

Asia


Basically saying:

Dear Scott,

I tried to read your scary mail but instead I put it on a stack of things that I don't know how to deal with. In order to make me feel like less of a failure, I'm emailing you in the hope that you will just tell me what I need to do.

Thanks,
Asia

Pet Peeves.

So I recently discovered some pet peeves I have. I used to think I was a really low maintenance person that was chill as an Alaskan antelope. Turns out I'm not. Lots of things bug me. See below.


1. Whistling

Oh gosh, just stop it. What reasons do people have for needing to whistle? The answer is that there are no reasons.

Quick anecdote: I was on campus today delivering some digi beta tapes to Burbank and I heard some really loud whistling. It was really loud. Almost impressively loud, but I will never be impressed by whistling. I looked around to see who might be forcing everyone who is standing outside in Provo to listen to their little ditty. Surprise! It was my ex-boyfriend. I immediately felt gratitude for the turn of events in my life that led me to not marry this loud whistler.


2. People my same age calling me sweetie or telling me they are proud of me.

Don't tell me you're proud of me if you're my peer. Saying you're proud of someone is like saying "You have made the correct choice, oh ye of lesser experience than I." This is a fine thing to say to your child or grandchild or... yea, that's about it.

If someone who is your same age does something awesome, an appropriate response is, "Way to do that awesome thing!" or "Oh man, show me how to do that awesome thing you did." or "That thing you did should cause you great excitement."

Those are appropriate responses.

Also -- calling me sweetie. Please be 50 or over before you do that (that means you, 23-year-old girl at the Verizon store).


3. Talking when you need to clear your throat.

If someone is speaking to me while they have something phlegm-y in their throat, it makes me want to barf. They could be talking to me about their dying wife's final words of encouragement and I would still want to barf. I probably wouldn't even be able to focus on what they were saying enough to hear that they're talking about their wife's final words, so really you can't call me insensitive.

Clear. Your. Throat.


4. When people think they are the first person to do something when they really are not.

Attention everyone: everyone can do the Gollum voice from Lord of the Rings. Really. Everyone. You are not the first. You are not the only. Turns out all you have to do is close your throat and make your voice sound gross. Stop doing it, or at least stop thinking you were the first one to do it.

Attention again: upon first hearing the word "euthanasia", everyone thought it was "Youth in Asia". Everyone thought this because, without seeing it written down, it sounds mighty similar to (or, if you'd rather, exactly like) "Youth in Asia". This is not an embarrassing thing nor is it a funny thing. Everyone does it.

One more thing everyone does: staying up really late sometimes. I've often witnessed the conversation where people try to one-up one another with their staying-up-late stories. It is not interesting unless you are a vampire and have, in fact, never slept. You would always win the one-up conversations. Way to be.


5. I feel like I need a 5th thing to be nit-picky about... but can't think of one.

I like things to end in nice round numbers. That can count as a pet peeve-y thing, right?

Why I Suck at Dating

I suck at dating. I'm so bad at it, in fact, that I rarely get the chance to do it. This is not a new thing. This is, in fact, old news. I have been on some of the worst dates in the history of the activity and I still remain one of the worst boyfriend-getters ever.

I've given this some thought and here's what I've decided. I suck at dating for the following reasons:


1. I can't flirt.

Really though, I can't. Not consciously anyway. The giggly, arm-touchy technique never developed in my adolescent years and trying to get these skills during my post-adolescence is not going well.

I see it happening and I feel like a safari scientist (is that real?) as I observe and try to figure out how it goes down. No deal, peeps. Around cute boys, I remain either silently stoic, friendly in a sisterly way (you don't know how much I get of that), or uber awkward.


2. Impatience.

I'm really really impatient when it comes to boys. I don't know where this impatience comes from, but I kinda feel like I need to trick boys into going on dates with me so I can trap them forever in a loving relationship.

For example -- I'll see a cute boy. I'll say hi to cute boy. I'll immediately feel anxiety that we don't live in a beautiful lake house together with our 6 children. I mean -- come on.

The boy is probably thinking: Oh, cute-ish girl! Hello, cute-ish girl! Perhaps I want to hang out with cute-ish girl. Oh wait, she's a wiz-natchy psycho beast.

For this reason, I don't often progress to the "date" phase.


3. I say awkward things.

I say lots of awkward things. When I get nervous around a cute boy, I feel the need to cover my bashfulness with clever humor. This never goes well.

For example:

[This conversation is embarrassingly real. I don't miss you, 2007.]

Cute boy: Oh, hey! I'm going through the temple for the first time next month!
Asia: Oh, that means you have to wear funny underwear!

[This has already gone very wrong. I've said an inappropriate and kind of offensive thing about him, his underwear, and a religion we both belong to. You don't think I can make it worse. You are wrong.]

Cute boy: heh... yea I guess....
Asia: Well... wear your favorite ones until then!

It just was not a good thing to say to really anyone, much less someone you want to ask you on a date. Needless to say, the date never happened. Cute boy is now married and he and his wife both wear funny underwear... suckers.


4. Sometimes I dress like I'm homeless.

This one is kinda self-explanatory. I'm just lazy sometimes and I love this pair of shorts that my mom has repeatedly tried to hide from me/throw away.


5. I subconsciously flirt with really awkward boys

A large handful of the small list of dates I've been on in my life have been with awkward boys. How does this happen? I used to feel like I was a magnet for the low-self-esteem boys of the world, but have since realize that I bring this on to myself. I flirt with awkward boys.

My flirting just has no on/off switch. How I wish it did. However, because of this, I've been on some very interesting/entertaining dates that I would never have been on otherwise. Maybe I'll share these in a later post.

Until then -- attention boys who are a little bit too touchy-feely, a little bit too young for me, or a little bit too awesome for me (admittedly, most of you are): Yes, I will go out with you.


6. Hilary Duff movies have ruined my idea of love.

Remember in A Cinderella Story how Hilary Duff was all nerdy and emotionally abused by Jennifer Coolidge and had no friends but was still a mega babe? Well, despite all this, she gets Chad Michael Murray to fall in love with her.

Ok, what?

Hilary, you've done me a disservice. I'm easily as awkward and dorky as you were in that movie, and I see no sign of a foxy quarterback eyeing me for some action. If, in fact, if there are foxy quarterbacks looking for socially challenged cute-ish girls to court, they have all been kidnapped and we should send out a search party immediately.

Sports.

Asia + sports = ?


1. I don't play any sports and I don't watch any sports.

2. I have decided I am a sports appreciator. I don't mind that others like sports (except when it makes traffic horrible) and I don't mind playing the friendly game of HORSE.

3. I once had a huge crush on a soccer player.

4. For a brief period of time I was a high jumper for my high school track team.

5. I like the way boys look in baseball uniforms.

6. I know who the following people are: Pele, Babe Ruth, Michael Jordan, Serena Williams, Tiger Woods, John Madden.

7. Sitting on a dewy field in the morning to watch a game of flag football makes me feel kinda patriotic.

8. Sitting on a couch watching any kind of sports on the TV is boring to me.

9. Sitting on a couch watching OLD sports seems like a huge waste of time to me.

10. I have been to a "footy" game in Australia.

That is all I've got when it comes to sporty things.

So sporty people, play on!