That Time My Mum Thought I Was a Guy

Remember that time that I told you about when Toby busted me for sneaking out? Well, I snuck out a lot.

I had a really good friend named Ashley. She went to church with me, but she lived in Abbotsford, an hour's drive away, so I only saw her at church dances mostly. This one time the monthly dance was hosted at my ward building, so we made a plan for Ashley to sleep over at my house after the dance. When we came home from the dance, we planned on sneaking out and going off on our own adventures, hopefully finding some boys on skateboards.

We had come home from the dance, and were changing out of our church dance appropriate clothes into sneaking out of the house and seeking adventures with boys who rode skateboards clothes. We were discussing our plans and options while talking in low voices, when I heard my mom hissing from the top of the stairs; "KELLY!!" Ashley and I exchanged glances, and I went to the bottom of the stairs and stared up at her innocently, "Yes?" "Who's down there with you?" she demanded. I blinked up at her, did she forget Ashley was sleeping over? "Ashley" I responded. My mum put her hands on her hips, cocked her head to the side, and rolled her eyes. "Kelly, who else do you have down there?" I didn't know what she was talking about. "No one!" I answered. "Kelly," she said again, shaking her head, looking exasperated that I thought she was so stupid. "What?" I asked. She was acting as if I was hiding something, which technically I was, because we were planning on heading out soon. She smelled a rat and I could tell, but I knew she was smelling  the wrong rat. "Kelly... do you have a boy down there?" she seemed so annoyed that she had to spell it out for me. "What?" I asked - phew, she could not be more wrong. "Kelly, (she was really annoyed now) I can hear a boy talking down here." It took me a minute to figure out to what she was referring. "Mom,  that was ME!!" I cried. She just put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side again and gave me a sarcasic grimace. I was mortified. My voice sounded like a guys, how lame is that. She still didn't believe me. "Come down and look, Mum, it's just me and Ashley!!" By this time she could tell that I was telling the truth.

We still snuck out after that, but the fun was sucked out of the adventure because I realized that I sound like a guy.

Desperately seeking NSLP

The definition of NSLP has been explained wonderfully over at hellogiggles.

For those of you not interested in links, NSLP stands for Non-Sexual Life Partner.

I have wonderful friends whom I love dearly, but they all live far, far away. Berit lives in New Mexico, Jenn in Las Vegas, Stef and Tara in Canada (along with my mum and sisters and many others), and Kate in New Zealand. I would walk five thousand miles or take a bullet or donate a gallon of blood for any of those girls, but the problem is, those girls are not here. I can't call them and be with them in an instant.

So far I've been okay with not having a local bestie. I have DH, and I rarely have free time, so I don't have a lot of time to be lonely, and I really don't mind going places alone and doing things by myself. I'm not one of these girls that can't go to the bathroom by themselves.

It's just that sometimes I need someone to do the things that I love that DH has no desire in doing with me. Like geeking out over certain books or movies. Or nail polish; or Barbies, or shoes, or Superman. I know that the internet is great for connecting with people who have like interests, but sometimes you want to go to a book signing, or comic-con and it's more fun to do that in person, and with someone else. I got together with some girls in my neighbourhood to see a screening of Austenland where there was a question and answer with Shannon Hale. We all went to dinner beforehand and had a BLAST. The movie was HILARIOUS, we ate cookies from the Blue Lemon, and we enjoyed blasting all the critics that said the movie was junk afterwards. I need more of that.

Sometimes it's good for me to get out of my cave and interact with other female humans, so this is what I need:

Applicants need not be married, or have children, but it's nice to have that in common.
Must be available when I'm available.
Must tolerate sarcasm and biting wit.
Must be able to endure the things that come out of my mouth that will totally be embarrassing to us both.
Must realize that while I am an active and participating member of the LDS Church, I occasionally swear, tell naughty jokes, yell at my kids, and drink Dr. Pepper, and needs to be okay with this and not judge me nor tell me that I won't get into the celestial kingdom for acting like I do, and then not be shocked when I'm reverent and respectful and bear my testimony.
Must either a) understand that I speak in a language of cultural references, or b) get all the cultural references. I tend to quote the following on a regular basis: Monty Python, Gilmore Girls, Absolutely Fabulous, and Twilight. (sorry, I'm not sorry) I also quote lines from songs from both popular and alternative music.
I will assign you a song; that song will make me think of you every time I hear it, and I may sing that song every time you see me. In turn, you can sing the Kelly, Kelly, Kelly song from Cheers to me. If I don't know a song, I will make one up. It may or may not be stupid, but you still have to put up with it.
Know that I get crushes on other people and things, but they will never, ever take the place of my Darling Husband. He's stuck with me for eternity. You don't need to worry about this, even if it looks like you do.
Things come in threes for me. I have issue with things that do not come in threes.
I appear fearless, but I am a big, fat, yellow chicken. I need someone who will see past the bravado and understand that there are times when I will thank you for taking me by the hand and dragging me to do certain things, like shop at M.A.C. or help me to find the perfect black trousers. On the other hand, I need you to respect that I'm a chicken, and not ready for many experiences, but I'm also open minded, so I'll eventually come around, but if it's something YOU are afraid to do and need a friend, then I am SO there for you, sister!
We don't need to be the same age, but it will help if you get all the things that I'm talking about that are from the seventies, eighties, nineties, and beyond. Sometimes I'm nostalgic for the forties, fifties, and sixties too, even though I wasn't born yet. I'm a weirdo.
I contradict myself all the time. Get used to it, and don't call me a hypocrite.
I say what I mean and I mean what I say, but I reserve the right to go back on my word when it comes to my opinion. If I tell you I will do something for you though, I will do it. Just maybe not according to your time table.
I am a Class A flake. I hate this about myself, but I'm not sure I can fix it. I will try my hardest for you though, because you will put up with my crap and you understand me.
I love all dogs; you cannot be a cat person/dog hater.


I am superficial, shallow and really hard to get to know. I appear open but am in fact super closed. If you can see past this and be patient, you will have a loyal friend for LIFE.

Not good at talking unless I'm talking about myself and then I can't shut up

The other day I went visiting teaching. My companion was running late, so I had to go in by myself. We've only visited this girl one other time, so I don't know her very well. Ironically, she's the one that thought she knew me from somewhere else and I reacted so badly.

So we got over the how are you, how's work stuff really quickly, and she sat there, looking at me expectantly. I drew a blank completely and had nothing to say either. I started fumbling for things to say and feeling really awkward. I apologized for being so weird, explaining that I'm not the most socially talented person. I just felt weird because I didn't know when my companion was coming, so I wasn't sure if I should just share the message and take off, or wait, or what and I couldn't remember a lot of what we had talked about the visit prior, so I couldn't follow up on that.

I ended up bringing up how we should figure out how we really know each other. She laughed and explained that she realized that I remind her of a friend of hers and that we don't really know each other. I explained to her how I have not been blonde for a long time which was one of the things that tripped me up on our first meeting which led into a fifteen minute monologue on the history of my hair, which included two side tangent stories, also related to my hair.

By this time my companion had showed up and we talked some more. I was warmed up to the point that I couldn't stop talking. This must have looked so weird, because I went from not being able to talk at all, to not being able to shut up.

When I was on my mission, I had this companion who was really good at the asking the get to know you questions and getting people to open up, but I found her style to be so invasive. She wouldn't let up and asked really personal questions, but the weird thing is, people answered her, and they seemed to not mind.

I'm such a respecter of people's privacy, I figure if someone wanted me to know something, they would tell me. I don't like to pry. I feel more comfortable talking about myself, because 1) I can control what I share, 2) I can avoid probing questions, and 3) I know I'm not getting too personal with a person by asking them questions that they are uncomfortable answering. The last thing I want to do is make a person feel uncomfortable (unless I don't like them, then I don't care), so I just feel more comfortable talking about myself.

This is why I'm a terrible listener.

Most likely to set the world's next fashion trend

You know that thing in high school where everyone is voted Most Likely to Fill-in the Blank? I was voted Most Likely to Set the World's Next Fashion Trend.

Haven't heard of me? That's because I have yet to accomplish this feat, however, I'm still working on it - I'm not dead yet!!

I can't tell you how honoured and awesome I felt when this happened to me. To be the most fashionable person in my high school. My high school with a graduating class of 160. My high school in a town called Cloverdale. Yep, was hard work competing with all those turkey farmers for "most fashionable".

Sarcasm aside, I was still really pleased with the results of how others perceived me.

I gotta tell you the story behind the reason that I was voted to set the World's next fashion trend.

Some background:

• I learned how to sew when I was six and my mum taught me some basic pattern skills so that I could make clothes for my Barbies, but she refused to teach me how to use a sewing machine because she wanted me to wait until I got to high school so I could be taught "the right way". 
• Things changed somewhat between the sixties and the eighties (imagine that?). By the time I got to Home-Ec, things had changed so much so that my teacher was one of the English teachers who just happened to know how to sew. There was no 'real' sewing teacher. She basically had us go buy basic patterns and follow the instructions in the pattern and she was there to answer questions. When my mother heard that, she said, "Well, I could have taught you that!"
• When I took sewing in grade nine, we had to make a shirt because we had to learn how to do button-holes, and we had to make a skirt or pants because we had to learn how to sew in a zipper. This was 1986 and big, oversized, floral shirts were in style. I really wanted to make a big shirt, but didn't have a lot of money for fabric. My mum helped me by searching through her "stash". (Every woman who sews knows what I'm talking about - it's like the fabric multiplies on its own!) I found this fabric with big yellow, pink and turquoise roses on it that I thought was perfect. When I pulled it out, my mum informed me that was not fabric, but a sheet set. I didn't care, I loved the fabric. When my teacher found out that I was using vintage sheets for my fabric, she flipped out that I was so creative and inventive to use sheets. I made a shirt, skirt, and shorts out of the sheets. They were so fabulous I wore them all the time. I would wear the skirt and shirt together with either a pink or turquoise tank top underneath with the shirt belted at the waist, but I never wore the shirt and the shorts together, that would clash. I wish I had a photo to share with you...
• I also had taken a basic shirt pattern that my mum had from the seventies and manipulated it so that it would be oversized. I figured all of this out on my own. If I didn't like the style of the pattern, I would change it to fit my needs.
• Anyway, from that moment on my teacher thought I was a genius, and would come to me for suggestions and tips instead of the other way around. She would not shut up about how amazed she was that I thought to use a sheet for fabric. (a vintage sheet - but the term vintage had not been coined yet)
• Did I mention that my sewing teacher wore fabulous clothes and I was totally intimidated by her at first because her style was so impeccable? I was so honoured to be her pet student.

So cut to grade Eleven. I had seen my friend Kate's older and very stylish sister wearing these East Indian inspired pants with a high waistband, many pleats, and a drop crotch. I thought the were so cool. I waited awhile to try to copy them because they were not something that I thought I was confident enough to wear. I figured out a pattern, and made a pair of navy blue ones, and a pair of bright green ones. The navy ones had a wide navy and white striped waistband. I sucked up my courage and wore them to school on the first day of grade Eleven. O. My. Gosh! The mocking. The stares. The jokes about how I pooped my pants. It went on and on, but by then I had the confidence to know that those stupid kids had no clue about fashion, they were from Cloverdale for crying out loud, so I ignored them. (again, I wish I had pictures...) 

It was really hard to walk up steep steps with my crotch at my knees, but, you know, no pain is too great for the sake of fashion...

A year later, a rapper called MC Hammer wore the EXACT same pants, but in gold. People would come up to me and tell me about that and about how I wore it first. "Remember last year how we used to make fun of you for those poopy pants? Well now that rapper MC Hammer is wearing them! You're so cool to be ahead of the style!"

THAT, my friends, is validation.

Inspired by the commute

So I only have a 15 minute commute, but I've been doing it so long that my brain just kind of goes on auto-pilot. Sometimes I pull into my driveway and I don't remember my drive at all.

The other day I saw this bumper sticker on the tailgate of a pick-up truck that said "Gay Porn Star". Promptly after passing me, he hit a bump and some trash came flying out of the back of the pick-up; like, fast food wrappers. One piece, then another, and then some more, and I thought to myself "Littering Gay Porn Star".

That's all.