Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

The weather is warming up and it's almost time for summer! This means it's time for swimming, camping, bonfires and other summertime adventures. Speaking of summertime adventures, last July I had a little adventure of my own. See below.

Once upon a time, I was working on a film set in Alpine. We were up on the mountain and it took several windy residential roads to get to our basecamp. Every so often, I would have to exit our mountain hideaway and go into civilization to make copies of stuff.

One of these times, something strange happened.

I was in my super presh little jeep headed to copy call sheets and I was stopped at a stop sign. An SUV was coming so I waited patiently for it to pass so I could pull out behind it. As this SUV passed, though, I thought I saw something strange. Time slowed as it drove by, left to right, and I was 95% there was a cat on the roof. A cat clinging on for dear life, mind you.

I pulled behind the SUV and my fears were confirmed. There was a fluffy white cat having a panic attack on top of the car. After the initial "huh... that's a cat" wore off, I was struck with the definite possibility that this cat belonged to some precious child and it would be flung from the SUV on the highway and baby tears would be the only result. I decided this was not a good plan.

I started honking my horn like a psycho. What else could I do? I rolled down my window and waved my hands. After a moment, the SUV began to slow. It pulled over onto the side of the road. I pulled up next to it.

A mom and her 3 children looked at me like I was insane.

"Do you know you have a cat on your car?"

I pointed weakly.

The mom let out an exasperated sigh. I had a feeling this was a repeat offence. Wily kitty.

"Oh goodness. Thank you."

Having delivered my intended message and not really sure what else I could do, I pulled out. But looking in my rear view mirror as I drove away, I could see the kids getting out of the car and trying to figure out the best way to remove the terrified animal. I smiled to myself. Good deed AND super strange situation. Awesome.


That was one of last year's adventures. I hope this year will hold more and I hope you have some good ones too :).

Rex Lee!

So.... Hey!

I ran a 5K on Saturday. It was the Rex Lee Run 5K -- a run BYU hosts to help sponsor cancer research. I got a shirt and helped fight cancer! yay!

Now... I'm not a runner. This will come as no surprise to you. However, I don't want to think of myself as lazy and unsporty (nonsporty? insportatious?) because then I feel all sedentary and I worry that someone is going to use me as an example in one of those cynical documentaries about obesity in America. Hence I joined my track team. Hence I ran a 5K. Hence I try(ish) to limit my pizza consumption.

The race was Saturday so last Thursday I went to Gold's and did a test 5K. I jogged a lot and walked a lot and when all was said and done, my time was slow. But I had good feelings about Saturday. The 5K was do-able and with people around and a cool shirt on, I would probably be a bit faster.

I was gonna ROCK this 5K.

On Saturday morning, I woke up at 7am. The race began at 9am, but I wanted to get a good parking spot and ALSO be a bit early. Oh! Also I was tricky and put on all my running clothes the previous night. So all I did was wake up, brush my teeth, wash my face and go to the track.

I was like an hour and a half early.

Plus I had pre-registered so I already had my number and shirt. Needless to say... there wasn't really anyone else who was as enthusiastic about being retardedly early for the 5K. So I found myself wandering around looking like an idiot waiting for someone to entertain me. I pinned my number (in the running world this is called a "bib", which is weird and disconcerting) to my tummy then went and sat in my car, reading my book until it was an appropriate time to join the other runners.

But I had a rockin' parking spot, peeps. This was important because I figured running a 5K would be enough physical exertion and once I was done running I didn't want to have to walk an additional mile to my car.

At like 8:30, I left my car and joined the masses of people walking to the BYU outdoor track. We sat in the bleachers and listened to the sons of Rex Lee talk about their dad. Then we prayed and went to the starting line. There were a lot of people running the 5K. We all stood in a weird crowd, facing different ways, unsure of which way we were supposed to run when the shot was heard. I looked around at all the people I was up against. I was sizing them up, trying to decide if I would finish before or after them.

There were little old ladies, moms with strollers, super athletic people, super hot people, super hot athletic people, 8-year-olds, and people who looked kinda like me. People who were thinking "maybe I'll run a 5K today". But everyone, despite their athletic prowess, was startled and began to run when we heard the BANG!

I started jogging. I jogged and jogged. There were people lined up along the road, cheering us on and waiting for us to slap their hands as we passed. There were people taking photos. It was cool. I enjoyed being a part of the herd of people wearing a cool t-shirt and running for a cure.

Before too long I got tired and I started walking. I got passed by lots of people, but by this point I wasn't too worried about looking cool or athletic. I was doing the Rex Lee Run! And that was all I'd set out to do.

By the time I was pretty close to the end, I was tired and sweaty, but I felt good. I felt good about what I was doing for my body and what I was doing with the community.

However, it was around then that I was passed by a sweet old lady.

I then quickly forgot about my happy community feeling and decided that I needed to beat that old lady.

I pushed through my fatigue and ran. We were just a quarter of a mile away from the finish and I passed her. Then I ran through the finish, happy to be done running and happy that I was slightly faster than the lovely, genteel woman who came through the finish slightly after me.

Additionally I beat my test 5K time by 3 minutes. So basically I'm an athlete that gets faster by the minute. Look our for me, peeps.

Look. Out.

I then got in my very closely parked car and came home.

Now... I know 5K is nothing. People run this far and much farther everyday as part of a daily workout routine. Some people eat 5Ks for breakfast. But running much farther than a 5K makes me want to cry and barf. And cry-barfing doesn't sound very fun. So, marathon runners out there, I salute you!

Additionally, sweet old ladies, moms with strollers and 8-year-olds that run these things, I salute you. You are so impressive to wannabe athletes like me.

Run on, peeps. Run on.

Jimmer Love Song

This is my Valentine's song for Jimmer :)

10,000 Views

I am nigh unto having 10,000 views on my blog. Crazytown, right??

For your entertainment: Words people have entered into google in order to locate my blog:

- pot of gold at the end of the skanky rainbow
- burned my tongue
- literally in love with this grapefruit
- actiso bromch
- luminary things
- disney belle and the best

It's just interesting to me what sticks in people's brains sometimes. There are other search words that people have used to locate likethecontinent, but they are boring.... like "likethecontinent".

I know all of this info because blogger tells me all kinds of cool statistics. It tells me that 4 people in Slovenia and one person in Egypt have read my blog. It tells me that people like sophomore year of my First Kiss Story better than any of my other posts. This is weird because that's the part of the story where nothing happens.

Also... "belle and the best"? There are just a lot of things wrong with that.

Basically you guys are weird. Weird but wonderful. Kinda like a bite of baked potato pizza.

Thanks for reading. Thanks for being you and finding it entertaining when I'm me :).

This Post is Not About Hallmark

I feel like, for the sake of being funny, I've been over exaggerating my feelings about sports and athletics. It's true that I'm not often passionate about playing or watching sports, but I do enjoy the community feeling that comes from watching a football game or being on a ward basketball team. I actually played on my church basketball team for about 5 years when I was a teenager and I loved it. I got to be pretty good too. I like when people around me are passionate about a team or a game and -- admittedly -- it's kinda contagious.

Also, recently I've been assigned to be the UPM on a TV show that is exclusively about college sports. I'm really excited to learn more about sports and have those long, obnoxious conversations about trading players and making it to the "sweet 16" (I know what that is!!).

Anyway... I guess that's just kind of a disclaimer.

So... I wrote this kinda long post about how I used to work at Hallmark and it was not fun and everyone hated me and I was fired because I skipped work to go to a track meet.

Then I realized that I could tell that whole story in one sentence (see above) and making it longer only made it boring.

Instead, I've decided to tell you a little bit about my experiences as a track and field superstahhh.

My senior year in high school was my little brother's freshman year. We were at the same school and it was fun to see him periodically. He ran cross country for a season, then started prepping for track and field. He told me that I should join the track team because it would make me tan and skinny and super hot for prom. Maybe he didn't say all those words, but that's what I heard mostly.

So I was like, "LOL sure!"

Before the season even started, little brother decided that he didn't want to do track, but I decided that getting fit was still probably a good idea. Even if Zac wasn't going to join me. I was ready. How hard could it be to be sporty? psh.

I showed up to my first track practice wearing Sketchers or something with black socks I had to fold over lots of times to make them look like they were ankle socks. They were not. My t-shirt looked ok (minus the fact that I didn't own a proper sports bra), but my shorts were probably khaki or courderoy or something tardy. I looked like a major dork.

Nonetheless, I jumped in to whatever they were doing and got to work.

After my very first track practice, I was completely exhausted. Beyond exhausted. My body was furious. After 16 years of complete inactivity I was putting it through outdoor track conditioning in Florida. Everything hurt. I was 98% sure I was going to die. Additionally, my muscles must have stolen some strength from my brain to keep them from dying so I was kinda loopy as well. Well... loopy? Understatement... Its the closest I've ever come to being stoned. I stumbled into my house mumbling incoherently. I couldn't walk properly, I couldn't speak properly and I'm pretty sure I was shivering.

Once inside, I wanted pudding like the earth was going to cease to exist if I didn't have it immediately. So I went to the fridge, got a pudding and a spoon and collapsed on the floor. I enjoyed my pudding from the floor as my little brother tried to have a conversation with me. He gave up and decided to make a video of me instead. This video has infamously become known as the "Hold my spoon" video.

Track was hard. We did a lot of running. A LOT of running. Running + Asia = sadface, but I figured I was building character and I eventually came to enjoy it as part of the adventure. We also jumped and squatted and lunged and climbed. I was by far the slowest member of the team. By far. Did I mention that this was my senior year? and I had never done anything athletic prior to this? The cool part was, though, that no one cared about how slow I was. They only cared if I gave up. We were all the same as long as we finished. It was kinda wonderful.

I also discovered it wasn't just because I was out of shape. At one point, the girls were doing stadiums and I was behind them all like a slow fat kid, and my coach pointed out that my breathing was not normal and I probably had exercise-induced asthma (AKA athletic asthma).

Shucks. Athletic asthma. How can I go on? I've been able to cope with this inhibition over the years by running less and using it as an excuse to stop playing basketball when I feel like I'm going to throw up.

One day at track practice, we took a little tour of all the different events. We saw shotput and long jump. We looked at pole vaulting and hurdles. Then we looked at the high jump. Everyone got a chance to try jumping over the pole. Some people made it over. Some people didn't.

I did.

I decided to cherish the moment and monopolize on my one sporty ability. I could jump over the dang pole. I had found my sporty calling in life.

Don't get your hopes up, though. I could clear the pole at track practice, but that didn't mean I could jump very high. In order to even compete in a meet for high jump, you had to be able to jump 4'4". It went up by 2" from there. It got to be VERY high. The highest I ever was able to jump during my time on the Mandarin High track team was 4'6". That meant I lasted 2 rounds generally.

Quite the athlete.

I'll have you know, though, that when prom came around, I did look tan and fit. And running track was one of the best learning experiences of my life. Mostly I learned that I could be on the track team and not die. Barely.

I know I know... my dress isn't properly modest for the Mormon girl I claim to be. You can see my shoulders. But this is about as rebellious as I got in high school so chalk it up to teenage experience.

Judging the Children

I have a friend that teaches 5th grade in Spanish Fork. This morning, they had their 5th grade science fair. She was looking for help with judging their projects/presentations so her husband (my coworker) and I went down to the school to help out.

To judge the children.

We arrived at the school and went to the front office. A woman was there corraling the other judges and giving out clipboards and instructions. We were told that we shouldn't go easy on them just because they're cute 5th graders. On a scale of 1-20, she said, 10 was average and we should feel no remorse giving a child a 10. 20 was for stellar projects and anything under a 10 was below average.

We put on our serious, adult faces and headed into the gym where the children were awaiting their judgment. This would be easy. I would be fair. I can handle children.

I walked up to a little boy in front of a yellow presentation board that said something about a cornstarch monster. That sounded entertaining. I said, "Show me whatcha got." As soon as he opened his mouth I knew this wasn't going to be a walk in the park. I couldn't hear a word he was saying. The gym was loud to begin with, but 5th grade child #1 was ridiculously quiet. And on top of that, his head was turned looking at his presentation the whole time so any hope I had of lip reading was completely lost. I crouched down next to his chair so I would be at eye level, but 5th grade child #1 was determined to not be understood. I decided to just read his presentation board. It looked neat enough. Not so neat that his mom did it, but it looked like he had tried to make it look nice. It said something about a Newtonian Liquid... did 5th grade child #1 know what a Newtonian Liquid was? I sure didn't. And there was no asking him... so I gave him good points on everything except his interview skills and moved on.

A little girl with braces looked as though she was dying to tell me about what happens when you bake cookies without using all of the ingredients. It turns out, she concluded, mayhem ensues.

I learned a lot of stuff from these projects. Some stuff that I already knew (like... that water is good for plants) but a lot of the information was useful and applicable in my life. Did you know that Oxyclean, Resolve and Shout all have the same cleaning power? According to 5th grade child #4's research, there is no difference. Did you know that yellow food dye dissolves faster than blue, green or red food dyes? 5th grade child #11 does. Just don't ask her why that is. She doesn't know.

After I had finished judging my quota of children, I just walked around and asked them if they were having fun. Lots of little girls just nodded shyly. One boy threw his head back and said, "I'm borrrrrrrrrrred!" I was informed by 5th grade child #6 that they were missing math class to be at the science fair. That sounded like a pretty sweet deal to me. When I asked one little girl if she was having fun, she sweetly smiled and asked me, "Are you?" I was beside myself. Heck yes I was having fun!

As I continued to pace through the projects and smile at the kids, one boy called me over to his presentation and asked me, "Do you get scared easily?" I looked at him nervously. Oh crap... what is he going to to? I responded with a hesitant "No...?" He shrugged and went back to chatting with the boy next to him. I smiled and awkwardly backed away.

Before too long, the children were called out to recess. Coworker (David) and I went out to see his wife and play with the kids. A bunch of kids came up and asked if I was their teacher's sister. I lied and said yes. Hopefully that doesn't ruin their trust in adults.

It was fun talking to all these children and trying to figure out what they were going to be when they grow up. One kid straight up told me he wanted to be a mechanical engineer. Best of luck, 5th grade child #3. It made me think back on my time as a 5th grader. I remember being kinda mean and having few friends. Those were strange years and I had no idea what I was going to be doing 10 years later. I guess I turned out ok, though. Little Asia, with her posterboard explaining why Duracel is the best battery, grew up to be a pretty ok 22-year-old.

At least.... so far, so good.

...right?

Ears: Pwned

When I was little, my mom really wanted me to pierce my ears. She thought it would just be so pretty and great. I didn't want to. We were the opposite of most mother-daughter dynamics. Some of my friends weren't allowed to get their ears pierced until they were 12. And they would itch for the day they could go into Claire's and pick out their first earrings.

Not me. Mom would beg every time we went to the mall. When I was nine, I eventually broke down and let her take me to Claire's.

Here's the thing about getting your ears pierced... people tell you it doesn't hurt that bad. They tell you, despite the obvious horror of the piercing gun, that it's a walk in the park.

They lie. It hurts like a mofo.

Real real bad. The trouble is, however, that once you've realized how much it hurts to get your first ear pierced, you have nothing to do but face the same thing again on the other side of your head. It's dreadful.

So the ears were pierced (imagine lots of crying). It ended up being a good decision because I really liked wearing pretty earrings.

However, as is the case with many young girls with their ears pierced, my ears got infected occasionally. I had to take the earrings out and tend to my wounds until they were ok to receive earrings again. One time I had my earrings out for too long, though and when I tried to put my earrings back in, only one would go through.

This didn't stop me from wearing pretty earrings, though... Like a young pirate, I wore one earring for about a year until my mom convinced me that it looked kinda dumb. Thanks for looking out, mom :).

So I let the other hole close up and didn't wear earrings anymore.

Flash forward.

When I was in middle school, my brother got me a beautiful pair of clip-on earrings. I wore these occasionally and really liked them.

Flash forward again.

It's time for my junior prom and I'm looking at the beautiful clip-ons from my brother. They had done good things for me. They were with me through grand times. But when I was 16, I looked at those suckers and they told me that I needed to try real earrings again. They inspired me to re-pierce my ears.

I was feeling impatient, though and wanted them pierced right then. So I decided to see if I could force earrings through my old holes. I went through my old earrings and picked some that looked appealing and gave it a try. Partial success! I was able to get an earring through the ear that I had kept open for a year longer than I should have. I had one earring in! How hard could the other one be?

Well this one was closed... completely. After a few painful tries, I quickly discovered that I would have to re-pierce the ear. I had seen The Parent Trap and decided that it couldn't be that hard. I found a safety pin and decided that it could probably do the trick. I think I wiped it off on a paper towel or something. This was my version of sterilization.

I took a deep breath and stuck it through my ear. I took another deep breath and pulled it out. I then grabbed an earring and tried to put it in the hole I had just created.

The hole could not be found... had it healed that quickly? Am I just an idiot? It was painful trying to find a hole that no longer existed so I decided to try piercing it again. With two more deep breaths, I stuck the safety pin back in my ear and pulled it out again.

Again. No luck in fitting an earring through. Had The Parent Trap lied to me?? Lindsay Lohan! Darn you!

The only way I was ever going to get an earring through my ear was to pierce my ear with an earring. This is how they do it at Claire's, after all. Except Claire's has special earrings that are really pointy and sharp so that they go through easily. I had no such thing (I had lost the ones they pierced my ears with, I guess).

So I began the painful process of forcing a dull earring through my (now pretty battered) earlobe. I kept icing it, which helped with the pain, but it was pretty awful.

But I was determined!

When I had made it about half way through my ear, my brother came to get me to go to a party we were invited to. So I continued with my ear-piercing in the car. It was during the commute that I actually got the earring fully through. It felt like I had climbed a mountain. I was so proud.

Do I recommend this? Heck no. But I feel pretty hard core that I did it. They're still pierced and I still get to wear pretty earrings all the time.

Ears: pwned.