Scariest thing I have ever heard...
Maybe
these two should consider counseling...
Marlon Brando Gill, 24, is facing a felony first-degree assault charge for the alleged incident with Melinda Abell, 24, of Blue Springs.
According to a court document, Abell told police that Gill forced her from a residence near Southwest 19th Street and U.S. 40 on Dec. 23, began yelling, and demanded to see her cell phone while driving along the highway.
He pulled into a parking lot, grabbed her and “forcibly shoved the phone into her mouth where it became lodged in the throat,” the court document alleges.
Abell was hospitalized and released the next week.
In his account to police, Gill said that Abell tried to swallow the phone after he demanded that she give it to him.
Ode to Steve
Kind of like a Valentine's Day post, just late...
Things Steve does that I'm pretty sure other guys wouldn't:
1. Goes out in the freezing cold to buy me ice cream from the gas station.
2. Lets me play his Madden football game when he's up by 70 points.
3. Tries the Pilates moves that I can't do to see if they really are humanly impossible.
4. Listens to me complain about how hard it is to balance school and work even though he's doing the exact same thing.
5. Goes to New Jersey Pizza even if he's more in the mood for Dara Thai.
6. Watches Mean Girls every time it's on The Movie Channel because I just can't seem to get enough of it.
7. Doesn't get upset when I only want to listen to three out of the 600ish songs on our ipod.
8. Agrees to shower first on the mornings when I'm really tired.
9. Really enjoys helping with all things wedding, or is an amazing actor.
10. Doesn't even flinch when my dad calls him Stevie.
11. Goes shopping with me.
12. Goes to chick flicks extremely willingly.
13. Humors me when I say, "No really, we are going to PRSSA this week."
14. Calls me at work to tell me exactly where he parked the car so I won't have to wander around looking for it.
15. Never shuns me or pretends he doesn't know what I'm talking about when I make a Laguna Beach reference in public.
16. Always sorts if I deep clean.
There are a lot more, but I don't want give him some kind of superiority complex, so I'll stop here.
Durrrdee
Remember a few years back when Christina Aguilara made the word "dirrty" seem all sexy because she was wearing chaps with nothing under them in the music video? Well, I just wanted to make clear that "dirrty" is not the dirty I am talking about. Lately Flagstaff has been seeming dirtier and dirtier. I'm not sure what the Dust Bowl was like and I'm sure it is a completely unfair comparison, but it seems like every time I walk outside lately I end up with a mouth full of sand, tree debris, and litter. Now I understand that this is what I get for using some Hoo Doo to ban snow from the area, but geez.
In addition, the motels are getting run-downier, the giant crows keep relieving themselves on our car, the evergreen trees are actually brownish-gray and even the hippies are looking a little less clean. Or maybe it's just me... I decided to take the self-help route of watching several prescription drug commercials and was able to diagnose myself with Seasonal Affective Disorder (I call it SAD for short). When winter hits, I get SAD. I miss my flip-flops and brightly colored tank tops of yore. I miss getting into my car at 3 p.m. and briefly blacking out from the sweltering heat.
So, once again, for all you loyal readers... If you think Flagstaff is SO beautiful, you're welcome to come and live here but I am so gosh darn frickin' out of here.
P.S. - For those who are interested in this sort of thing our regsitry is available at: http://www.crateandbarrel.com/gr/guest/viewRegistry.aspx?grid=9736409. And for the record we will love you all the same if you get us a spatula, a $100,000 gift card or something you sculpted out of earwax.
S-s-s-s-senioritis
In high school I think I had senioritis from about sophomore year on. However, my senior year was particularly bad. The first major factor was that I only had three classes, meaning I got out at 8:30 on B Days and 10:10 on A Days. And even then, sometimes making it through an hour and half of school was just too rough to face. Luckily, since I only had three classes-worth of homework, I still came through that year pretty well.
But this year the senioritis has hit me hard again. There's always that point where I realize that when I'm done, all people will care about is a stupid piece of paper that says I have a degree, but they won't care if I went the extra mile on every group project or had more illustrations in my final report than required. In fact, the .05 points my GPA could go up or down at this point probably won't matter to anyone, ever.
In any case, unlike my senior year of high school, I actually have a lot riding on this semester. I have more proverbial balls to drop if you will. Right now I'm relying solely on the "It's only three more months" motivation, but that is fading fast. If you come up with any better motivation for me to drag my glazed over, failing brain around campus from class to class, let me know.
Vegas, baby...
I love Las Vegas. Despite being Sin City, it is one of the few places on earth that has that home feeling (the other two are Valentino's pizza in Lincoln, Neb. and the Denver International Airport). However saying your from Las Vegas usually prompts people to give you a look (the "You're mom's a showgirl, you live in a casino, where's your feather boa?" kind of look). Mostly I just laugh it off, but lately I've encountered a new dilemma. When you say you're getting married in Vegas, the looks get even worse (the dreaded "You Nicky Hilton/Britney Spears wannabe, seven minute drunken marriage at a drive-through wedding chapel, white trash skank" look). Or, like the girl at the jewelry store where we got Steve's wedding ring, they just mutter "Vegas, baby" with some kind of drunken flashback look. I can't laugh this one off as easily...
This has led me to answer the question "Where are you getting married?" with "Las Vegas, BUT it's going to be nice. It's going to be classy. That's where I'm from. My parents live there. It's not on the Strip. No Elvises. It has a gazebo. " I don't know why this bothers me so much. Who's to say that the people who get the $19.95 special at the Little White Chapel won't have a long, happy and committed marriage? And who's to say that our wedding vows wouldn't be solemn and sacred if we dressed up like Marilyn Monroe and an original Star Trek klingon?
Uhhh... actually scratch that. I'm getting married in Las Vegas, but it's nice. It has a gazebo.
Breakdown
I had a big elaborate post written, but then I decided just to keep this part:
Umm... it turns out it's pretty frickin' hard in a "cried three times today, don't know where my gym shoes are, high pitched squealing in my ears, forgetting to breathe, haven't had time to go to the bathroom since 6:30 a.m." kind of way.
I'll let you use your imagination to fill in the rest.
Pacifist Kickboxing...
The first time my kickboxing teacher told us to picture a face when we were punching, I was quite unnerved. I'm a person who advocates peaceful solutions. I have never truly hit anyone in my life, although Becca and I have both gotten in a couple of good open-handed smacks. (Sidenote: My dad will try to tell you I gave him a huge bruise once, but don't believe it.) Anywho, the teacher asked "Do you have someone to picture?" Everyone laughed. I thought it was terrible.
But now as the classes pass by, the face has started appearing. It's not really anyone, just a non-descript face. So when the teacher says, "This is how you break a nose," I pretend to break a nose. Or if she says, "Knock out teeth," I shove my elbow straight into the mouth of my imaginary opponent.
Mostly this has me feeling really disgusted with myself but a little part of me feels like Buffy.
