I <3 potatohead.

An old man came into the cafe a few days ago, and as the ever-friendly barista that I am, I started up a conversation with him. After exchanging a few pleasantries with him he asked me in his slight spanish accent, "How old are you?"

A little red flag went up at this, and I cleverly answered his question with another question. "How old do you think I am?" His answer: fifteen.

:(

I immediately sank into a deep depression tinged with bitterness and rage. Do I look like a fifteen-year old? I'm going to try to make myself feel better and just assume that he is a crazy old man. After all, fifteen-year olds can't even legally work! He must have been off his rocker. ...right? Anyway, I ended the conversation rather coldly after his brutal attack on my ego, and he sat down. After a few minutes of trying to look busy by wiping down clean counters, I realized that his wife was now at the counter! I quickly dismissed any sudden urges to refuse her and any of her relatives service and went to take her order. And, would you believe it, during her speech over what she 'needs' me to make her a huge glob of spit flies from her mouth right onto my lip! What is it with this family?! My first impulse was to squeal and boil my lip, but I resisted, not wanting to create a scene. As soon as I finished her order and made her drink I scampered into the stockroom and actually poured disinfectant on my lips. What a day! One man basically calls me a pubescent guttersnipe and his wretched wife sprays spit all over me.

A few days later I had the pleasure of attending stake conference with Sunny and a few other people. Sunny wanted to be extra-righteous and sit in the front row, so thats what we did. We sat in the very front row, in the very middle of the row. I believe Sunny wanted these seats in order be baptized in the holy spit of the speakers, something I had already experienced. At the end of the meeting I was immediately approached by a rather portly fellow, possibly my age and my height and covered in large black moles that stuck out about three inches. He looked exactly like a potato when they start sprouting all those little knobs. I'm hardly exaggerating.

He asked me all the lead-in questions that come before asking for one's phone number, and I was frightened. I considered telling him that I had a terminal illness and would likely not be alive long enough to go out with him, but luckily enough he seemed to lose his nerve and walked off without so much as a goodbye. I said a quick prayer, pleading that other men might find me attractive, and not just Mr. Potatohead.

It seems like I'm always talking about work, but thats when all the interesting things happen. Yesterday I worked with 'nice Michael', not to be confused with 'stupid Mike' who also works at the cafe. We ended up having a very deep conversation, something that happens quite frequently as there is often nothing else to do. Michael explained to me his views on our society and government, saying that he is an anarchist and that the world today is basically corrupt beyond repair and not even worth trying to fix. He believes that we should all rebel against and overthrow the current governments and revert to living in tribes and small communities. He also said that he is going to drop out of school and move to California with nine of his friends, where he will make a living by growing and selling weed.

Though I didn't agree with a lot of what he believes, he had one idea that I thought was pretty cool. He said that he wants to go up to Canada or Alaska and establish his own little gated community that is hidden from the rest of the world. He would only let in people that he liked (which included me pleasantly enough), and live apart from the world and all its horrible policies and degradation. When I asked him how he would eat he said he'd grow corn and hunt deer with a bow and arrows. It seemed like a pretty solid idea to me. I would like to have my own community, I wonder what I would call it. Arielstown sounds silly, so does Arielsville. Maybe Arielopollis. I'll get back to you.

Gingers! Ugh.

Tonight I am feeling particularly cynical.

I was sitting here on this very comfortable chair trying to decide what to write about, and everything that came to my mind either very pessimistic or just downright stupid. I took about fifteen seconds for a bit of soul-searching to discover just what has brought on this exceptionally poopy mood of mine, and I discovered that there were actually several underlying causes. Now, I know you're licking your lips right now, waiting to hear a few rather juicy stories and gain some deeper insight into my persona, BUT... for the sake of sparing you what would invariably devolve into a sort of cheesy psychoanalysis I will resist, suffice to say I am not happy as a clam.

I'm going to attempt to direct some of my anger towards writing on a subject that was on my mind earlier today. I went to church with my brother and sister today, a single's ward generally full of very attractive critters (which seems to be the norm in AZ) about my age or a little older. I was trying to keep my mind focused on the speaker, but I had the misfortune of sitting behind a girl whom I immediately found annoying. She was apparently a very a social girl, chatting away with her friends and breaking out into a childish giggle every few minutes that grated on my nerves. Oh, and she had red hair. People with red hair make me nervous, I don't know how to handle them. So, I try to stay away from gingers.

Anyway, the girl with the big teeth in front of me was distracting. But it got me thinking. It seems like I always get annoyed by those bubbly, perpetually happy, 'OMG' kind of girls. You know the type. The kind of girl that drives a car her daddy bought her, who instinctively knows when Aeropostale is having a sale, who has a million girlfriends but talks about them all behind their backs... ect. I've spent my whole life trying not to be that girl. To be quite honest, I find most girls to be shallow, superficial, dull, and quite content to spend their teenage lives chasing boys and getting their hair highlighted. Maybe I'm crazy, but I've always thought that there was more to life than that.

In the interest of clarity we will lump all these girls into one category (a feat easily accomplished), and call them 'Jessica'. To see this 'Jessica', one need not look any further than the local college. Here, 'Jessica's' from all over amass in large numbers under the pretense of furthering their education, when in actuality all they really want to do is stay out really late with boys and borrow other 'Jessicas'' skimpy outfits. In my opinion, there is no one more deplorable than the average partying college girls that have become so plentiful in our society. In addition to being moral vacuums, they are complete slaves to the 'popular' thoughts of the day and don't have a single original thought in their heads.

Maybe I'm being a little too judgemental of girls today. After all, there is a lot to be said about guys as well. But, being a girl myself I'm tired of all the Jessica's in the world that give us a bad name. There is my rant for the day, next time I write I'll be a little more upbeat and positive. :)

My tire is flat.

My rear tire is flat. It was not a pleasant surprise to come home to.

I went out and attempted the whole 'social' thing with Sunny, Skylar, and David tonight. We went to an Institute party, and then when a few unsavory characters showed up we left to a house party with a hawaiian theme. Most of the people there were either in their late twenties or thirties or even fifties (aside from the two fifteen-year olds taking the cover charge outside), but it was fun nonetheless. I attempted to dance, which was probably very entertaining to the people around me, and ate some pork-on-a-stick. Overall, a very pleasant experience. Skylar and Sunny always told me how big the youth scene is here in Arizona, but man! I've never seen so people around my age in one place. You're witnessing a little country girl's first taste of 'the big city'.

To change the subject completely, someone asked me a question at work today that actually offended me slightly. I was having a pleasant conversation with a customer at work today as I was taking his order, he looked at my nametag and said, "Ariel, huh? Thats pretty. Is that your real name?" I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Do many people take on an assumed name at work? Is 'Ariel' a cheesy/phony-sounding name like 'Bambi' or 'Trixie'? I answered him with a stiff "yes". I think his name was Phil, or something generic like that. Maybe I should have asked him, "Were your parents really that unenthusiastic about having you that they'd give you a name like Phil?" Maybe I'm just cranky.

I like Arizona. You'd have to take a tour of my hometown of Sunnyside, Washington (which would probably take a whopping five minutes) to see just how much of an upgrade living here is. Back home, Wal Mart is the community center/place for all your shopping. We have one bowling alley with worn-out carpet, and one movie theater that serves the whole valley. Since Luke refuses to go bowling with me anymore, we would always end up watching movies at my house. Not that I'm complaining, Luke is a wonderful cuddle-buddy. But here in Arizona there is SO much to do that its ridiculous. And I've only seen the tip of the iceberg. I don't even mind the heat. :)

I think I'm going to dye my hair dark brown tomorrow, I'm pretty excited. I've kept my natural hair color for almost a year, its getting rather old and I'm ready for a change. Well, I'm off to bed. Kisses.

Too wired for sleeping!

Blahhhh...

Yes, blah.

Its about 11:45 p.m., and I'm sitting at my Uncle John's computer because I have no hope of falling asleep. I made the grave mistake of agreeing to work out with my brother Skylar, a mistake not only because I will undoubtedly be unable to lift my arms in the morning, but because I also drank 'angry juice'. What on earth is angry juice you ask? Its the delightful and witty name Skylar uses for some sort of pre-workout drink that makes you unable to sit still or concentrate on any one thing for more than 3 seconds, and also gets you pumped for a vigorous workout which I will be regretting first thing tomorrow. As I am still hyped up from that deceptively delicious blue drink, I will rant on my newly created blog about anything that pops into my little brain.

I went to an Institute class for the first time ever this evening. I was pleasantly surprised by how interesting the class was, the teacher seemed very sincere and the material we covered was all new to me. I went with my older sister Sunny, my older brother Skylar, and their friend Nate. Lately I've been in a very anti-social mood and have generally been avoiding all contact with other humans, but I actually had a good time out amongst the public. I pity people who grew up as the only child in their home, siblings are awesome. Or mine are in any case. Without them I'd probably have holed myself up in my room for the next several decades.

It always strikes me as odd when people complain about their brothers and sisters getting on their nerves all the time, or how they're constantly fighting with them. Its true that growing up we all didn't get along; I remember numerous occasions when what would begin as me 'borrowing' Sunny's clothes without her permission would escalate into an epic battle ending with slaps and slamming doors. These days though, tempers have cooled and Sunny has resigned herself to the fact that I am and always will be a thief... I love my brothers and sisters. Everyone should be as lucky as I am in fact.

I feel the need to boast about a recent achievement of mine. I did not land a new and exciting job, I did not obtain any kind of degree, and I have not completed a best-selling novel. But I have, just now, attained a state of being that is very enviable to nerds across the nation. I just became level 147 on Mafia Wars.

To all you unenlighted folks (a.k.a. people with lives), Mafia Wars is an online game for Facebook users. Its actually pretty stupid, you just do silly mafia-type 'jobs' which cost energy but give you money. You can save up your money and buy 'properties' which gives you even MORE money. Oh, and you can attack other mafias, which is pretty B.A. You just click the 'Attack' button next to their name and hope that you have more attack and defense points than they do. If you are thinking to yourself, "I really had no idea that Ariel was such an utter and complete dork!", think again. Its worse than you think. But, in my defense, I only work part-time and am in an anti-social state of mind, and therefore have way too much time on my hands that can't be filled with enough books.

Since I am on the subject of my part-time job, and because I still can't get sleepy, I might say that I am currently looking for a new job. Something full-time would be ideal. Also, I'm sick of making coffee-type beverages for grouchy and ungrateful customers, so... something aside from that would be lovely. I'm hoping to get into school soon, and money would sure come in handy for such a venture. I have decided to live like a saint from now on, and am hoping to be blessed for my actions with a job offer where I can do something that is interesting and pays more than the pathetic amount I am currently earning.

It is now 12:44 a.m. I will be waking up (assuming of course that I will be asleep at some point) at seven to get ready to save the world, one mocha at a time. I really should be grateful to even have a job, it seems like lots of people today are not so lucky. I will keep that in mind tomorrow... I mean, today, as I am at work. Somehow, I doubt that will make a difference to my sleep-deprived brain. In any case, I should probably stop writing/ranting and actually lie down. So, goodbye and goodnight, and God bless America.

Ariel