Trying To Be Nice, Ending Up The Weirdo Head of Newlyweds

So, you know when you say something completely benign and innocent, and everyone around you thinks that you mean something else? And then you stand there stupidly because you see no escape? That's so awful! And then you spend the rest of the evening thinking about what those other people think of you now that you've said that formerly innocent and benign statement?

Ya. The world of Tashya just got less than awesome.

I was at a fireside tonight for the Relief Society. I was so pumped at the end of it! It was awesome! I was going to be the best person ever! I was going to be the AWESOME-EVERYONE'S-FRIEND-AND-COOL-COMRADE person! So, acting in accordance with these new found urges and idiotic resolution, I went against my normal self. Silly me.

We talked a whole lot.

And that was happening all fine and dandy like. Look at me, being all social! I was talking, making conversation, gushing about our weddings, etc, blah, blah, blah, and all that jazz. And then... I started thinking. Never a good idea.

I KNOW , right?

Anyway, on to me starting to think, without Beauty and the Beast butting in.

This is the moment where I think that, "Hey, Tashya, why don't you just not say anything you don't agree with? How about you just shoosh it up? How about you just keep talking about cookies?"

THEN comes the moment where I ignore my own rarely appearing good sense, and I say something that doesn't even really apply to my current situation.

So why did I say that? I don't know. Every time I felt like I needed to talk to someone, I just talked to Andy. And it was great. He's my best friend! If I wanted to talk to a girl, I just called up Mama, because she's my other best friend! I mean, why did I just make myself sound like an emotionally unstable young lady?

Well, apparently I wasn't the only one who came up with an interesting translation of my thoughtless, yet well meaning, utterance.

This is what they said in response. (All things that I would normally be the one saying.)

This is what they were thinking.

They were talking about how all they wanted to do was to spend time with their wonderful husbands, and how great their husbands were, and how nice it was to spend time with them, and that maybe'd they'd spend time with other people in a year or so. All the while, I was wondering why I had even said that because, guess what? I'm just like the other girls! I hate RS because I can't sit with Andrew! I mean, how pathetic is that! And why would I WANT to spend time with those girls when I could be spending time with my Andrew?! I mean, between schoolwork and schoolwork and schoolwork, Andrew and I don't really have a lot of time to be together. So why would I waste that time on girls?

And then I went home and told Andrew that I did, in fact, love him a lot, and that no matter what nasty and pernicious rumors began circulating, he should know that I'd rather spend time with him than any RS girl. Because I don't smoke weed or drink beer.

On an Addition Problem

Hello, everyone. I’m the other proprietor of this blog, Andrew.

I may write on it as well, from time to time, to add a few cents of my own or to set the record straight. If I don’t write often, it’s not that I have anything against it, but it’s a combination of several factors. First, I’m not as natural a writer as my darling, wonderful wife, Tashya. Second, she is. Third, she’s really lovely, too. Fourth, I spend my time doing lots of homework. (As I planned this post, I actually envisioned myself making a picture of my teachers and what they were thinking… but Tashya took that idea right out my head and then did a better job with it than I would have done.) Some of my homework assignments are a little like the following:

Semester project: Make an oil well. That is INVINCIBLE:

Make cold Nuclear fusion. On a $25 budget:

Solve this equation: 

Solve world peace:

Needless to say, I’m often busy. You’ll notice a theme – engineers like to make things or fix things. Some people simply assume I FIX THINGS. Like, any problem, upon my looking at it, can be resolved just as easily as saying, “Ah… I see!” Which, although occasionally true, is sadly not the case. Hence the above homework problems still lacking completion.

Enough about me.

So for today’s lecture, I would like to pose a question: What happens when you add a Tashya and a Squeakyhammer?

First, we need to cover what a Tashya is. A Tashya is a pretty lady who is intelligent, kind, thoughtful, lovely, and wonderful. This particular Tashya is better than all of the rest and is also my wife. And she also has a mischiveous streak a mile and a half wide. On a good day.

A Squeakyhammer is an inflatable hammer, standing about four feet tall, that most commonly presents itself in bright, flourescent colors. You have probably seen one like it somewhere. Squeakyhammers are a more specific breed of inflatable hammers, however, in that they squeak when you hit something with them. We have ourselves acquired a pair of such hammers, but how that happened is another story altogether. Suffice it to say that a squeakyhammer or two does present itself on occasion.

Now, the addition in question is also worth discussing. Normally, you would think of it as meaning the giving an item like a squeakyhammer to someone. In this case, however, the Tashya is most sneaky, and addition may present itself in the form of her sneaking the hammer, her sneaking up behind you with the hammer, her waking you up with the hammer in hand, or her luring you over to her when she insists she doesn’t have any malicious intent at all:

Well, what happens, you ask? Well, what do you think? As Einstein said, “Everyone is a genius. But if you judge a fish on its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.”

She pounces on you and smacks you with the squeakyhammer until silly.  

Until you’re silly.

Or until she’s silly.

(But chances are one of you was silly to begin with).

Anyways, we have our answer for today’s discussion. Please join me next time for another enlightening discussion.

Homework this week: Watch your back when you hear someone tiptoeing up behin.. .AAAAHHHHH…...aaia ;li s[oyhp iausghpugb!!!!!

I'm a Pizza

Well, this week was hectic. No, more like it was characterized by activity, excitement, and/or confusion. There was a lot of homework assigned. You know what? I think that teachers just sit around and think we're bored, or we don't have anything else in life but their ONE class, or they're just downright sadistic and diabolical.

A real highlight this week was Monday. I was to give a French oral presentation class. It wasn't really supposed to be a scary thing, especially since this isn't a SPEAKING class, it's a LITERATURE class. That means we're not heavily graded on our speaking intelligence (which is REALLY great). Well, thanks to an excessively busy weekend, I didn't have as much time to prepare as I would have liked. That meant that I was doubly freaking out about this get-up-in-front-of-the-class-and-speak-intelligently-in-another-language-even-though-I-can't-speak-English thing.

Andrew, in his general goodness, took some time out of his busy schedule of homework to try to help me.

As useful as this effort was, it only served to make me more agitated when the little red YUMMIES! were gone away from me.

Andrew and I go to campus at 8:00 every morning for his Captstone class. I don't have class until 9:00. I spent an hour outside of my classroom awaiting my sure doom. Andrew sent many reassuring texts, and I promptly ignored them in my determinedness to vizualize the future of the world after my French presentation. It wasn't looking good.

I was going to single-handedly be the cause of the destruction of the entire world.

It was with this vision fresh in my mind that I heard my name called by my teacher in class. I went to the front of the room. All of the students were so eager to learn. They looked at me in great expectation, faces beaming with anticipation. They looked at me. I returned the favor, being too paralyzed to speak.

The class was growing dismayed at my lack of speech and awkward blank expression. People began to look concerned. I opened my mouth ...

And nothing came out. This didn't help matters. I took a deep breath, gathered my courage like a pig gathers truffles, and spoke.

My teacher and classmates seemed less weirded out when they heard some sound coming out of my mouth. They probably thought that I was needing to go through the entire evolution of speech just to give my 5-7 minute French presentation on Christine de Pizan. Taking some pride in my minute success, I again pulled in my five wits, and launched into my first use of words since Andrew had left me in front of my classroom that morning. I and my entire class wish I hadn't.

I just knew that the aliens were preparing to blast the world into smithereens. Why did I have to give MY presentation on the ONE DAY that the genteel, French-speaking aliens were passing by in their nifty flying machines?! I could see them in my mind's eye: ZUT ALORS! They were calling for backup! More alien ships approached Earth even as I was speaking! Earth was finished! I was responsible for billions of deaths!

The next thing I knew, I was sitting down in my desk, right next to my friend Tara. A while later, after some other presentations, class was over. I walked out of the room, not really looking where I was going, or what was going on. I sat down outside and waited for Andy. When he came, he gave me an expectant look. I gave him a blank, glazed over expression. He offered me a hug. I took the cinnamon bears.

Sweet solace found in a little red gummy. Who cares if I'm a pizza? Who cares if I told everyone? Who cares if the aliens are going to kill us all? Life was going to be alright.