running pants + jeff...yep, that's about it.

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today jeff came home from school + requested that we go to the running store...for running pants, of course. i tried not to let the words, "but what about the moose knuckle!?" fall straight out of my mouth + happily obliged. we found a running store + he tried on five pairs of running pants, three pairs of shorts, + twelve pairs of shoes + walked out a runner. it's a beautiful thing. he went on an inaugural run at the gym tonight + woof, running in place never looked so good. or something. mushy gushy.

now here's a series of sports illustrated-esque photos, for your enjoyment.

jeff has annoyingly fantastic legs and you bet that say yes to the dress is playing in the background.

our first date.

my first date with jeff stapleton was to a basketball game + grocery store. in retrospect, this date screams jeff stapleton : resourceful, simple, breezy, charming. and craftily cheap, that too. i used my sports pass to get in + the ice cream cone cost a mere fifty cents. he almost made me share him with him, which was like dude. they're fifty cents? + also sharing dairy products is nasty. 

he dropped me off shockingly early + white knuckled the steering wheel as he bid me adieu. i was confused. he texted me fifteen minutes later + said it was the best date ever, exclamation point. i was more confused.

then, poof! we were married. 

an ode to golden grahams, because tuesday.

jeff brought home golden grahams a few days ago.

let it be known, 

i've never met a cereal that i don't instantly want to kiss on the face -- 

the sugar! the grains! the cold splash of milk!

but golden grahams, 

oh golden grahams,

my self-control shrivels in their presence.

they are the 'light to my bug' + fill me with 'love sprinkles'

as catherine would say (did anyone else find their vows a little too...gooey?)

this week has been a blur. i can't differentiate between the times that i stopped eating 'em + started. i feel like there hasn't been a time in the past ninety six hours that i haven't been bring a spoon full of that golden graham goodness to my mouth. may my womanly curves forever rest in peace. 

but golden grahams,

oh golden grahams! 

i'm an awful date.

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in theory, i am actually the worst date ever. i really am. 

i know this because i have some experience in awful dates. for example...

• i drove around for an hour while the boy pointed out all the buildings his family owned. he also told me his parents were about to buy him an audi. i thought he was talking about his belly button + got through the night by chuckling over belly-button reconstructive surgery. 
• i hiked 2.5 miles. the sentence could end there and still be in the worst date category, but there's more! we came to a clearing + he asked to kiss me + i said no + we hiked 2.5 miles down in silence in a single-file line, von trapp style (sans matching curtain-outfits, unfortunately). 
• i once went on a date where the boy told me the highlight of his life was getting his wisdom teeth out + decided to sing me his favorite skrillex songs. hmm, okay.

and while those dates were awful, the boys at least let me talk about myself for three quarters of the night + bought me a diet coke...and a hamburger? how odd. in all those dates, i ordered a hamburger. hamburgers are my comfort food, i s'pose.

but me? i'm straight up awful waffle. in another life, jeff is going to write a book + it will be confirmed that i am five-parts insane. i already have my suspicions. also, when that book becomes a movie, i request jennifer lawrence to play the part of me. amen and amen. one chapter of the book will be dedicated to date nights with brooke. he will write a long list of all my requirements + it will be scathingly honest. this will be an exerpt from friday, 

friday january 24th

we drove around for two hours while brooke violently 'yelped' reviews for the himalayan kitchen and spice bistro. in the end she angrily decided on the kathmandu and continually hacked the pronunciation. upon sitting down, i began to tell her a story of my week in which she told me that the couple next to us met on match.com (k guys, they really did!) and the couple behind us were set up by friends and having the most awful time. five minutes into my story, she shushed me to listen to the heart-warming story of the divorced man next to us. oh, great. 

and from saturday, 

saturday january 25th 

brooke wanted to go on a  date tonight in which i obliged. her reasoning? because saturday sounds like satur-date. when will she understand that you can do that with every other day of the week? 

hah. 

what an ill-delivered idea.

for all of you that kept scrolling, you are of the elite. fist-pumps + kisses + what possessed you to read through that fake journal entry? 

but actually, i am really not that bad. i'm not a high maintenance dater. oh, no. but i do have some requirements : fountain drinks, some form of sugar, witty banter, + a slew of iphone photos, sometimes. these are must-must-musts. added bonuses : a catchy name for the night (temple + treats, skating + spaghetti, sex + sex)(just kidding on that last one), matching, + full radio control. also we can not go bowling. i just hate bowling. 

...some day my blog posts will have more of a post. but probably not. 

while i'm here, my here are my favorite places to eat in the area : 

chanon thai :: slc (massaman curry, pad thai, + thom kha)

cubby's :: provo (beet + goat cheese salad // tri-tip salad // rosemary fries)

sodalicious :: provo (diet coke + vanilla + lemons and/or diet mango mtn. and/or the second wife + a chocolate fudge cookie. okay.)

wallaby's :: lindon (dinner rolls the size of your head + bbq)

sam hawk korean resaturant :: provo :: bulgogi? i don't even know what else i get. but it's good + filling + fun to eat. 

red iguana :: slc (chips, salsa, and mole)

and my chain restaurant favorites : 

cheesecake factory (bread + tuna salad, oh honey!)

paradise bakery (they're coconut + chocolate chip cookie)

rumbi's island grill (steak + chicken brown rice bowl, extra veggies, lots of sriacha)

the fancy wendy's on state (i don't even care. i love their salad + junior frosty, no judgement)

and, scene. 

a haiku about eyelash extensions.

this picture makes it seem like i actually take myself seriously. ha! how misleading. blame the lashes. 

eyelash extensions. 

i'm a utahan now, hrmph. 

more diet coke, please. 

my tenth grade english teacher is probably squirming with delight. i am now sporting eyelash extensions for the third time because hello, i'm an official utah resident now. i still can't decide how i feel about them. i feel like they are magical yet entirely separate from my face. y'know? far too fancy + a touch too sassy...but, oh! how they flutter! i sometimes feel them tickling my eyebrows which makes me wonder : are my lashes too long or my brows too bushy? the things that keep me up at night.

the secret life of the american teenager...or thursday before lunch.

:: between lifting stuff up + putting it back down at the gym yesterday (isn't the gym such a silly place? just heavy objects to lift...and put back down...and lift again! oh, bother), i showed morgan the stream of self-indulgent pictures i took yesterday afternoon in preparation for brooke vs. the d.m.v. of utah round two. were my cheeks highlighted enough? my eyebrows filled in okay? you know, standard precautions.
morgan then told me that i should post this stream of selfies...but only on my blog, because blogs are slightly less self-indulgent than other forms of social media while still being completely self-indulgent. it's wonderful. she's a smart one, that morgan.

just being carmen san diego. you're welcome. p.s. my shirt is now on sale for $12.00 + is so comf. run! 

:: i'm debating chopping my hair off. not that i have much to chop off anyways. i have had 'make an appointment at salon' on my to-do list since last week. mind you, 'watch third episode of the bachelor' (andi so wins) + 'apply self tanner' has been on there, too. very important things to remember! hashtag the secret life of the american teenager.

:: speaking of the bachelor, i'm mildly sad that lucy the free spirit was eliminated. she was so nice! and her fascination with showing her chesticles? fascinating. but, i super like renee the bartender of the world (wouldn't she make a great one? she's so understanding), chelsie the girl who wouldn't jump and stretches metaphors (...just jump off the damn bridge, wouldya?), and, of course, andi the lawyer -- homegirl packed a one piece, has a sexified voice, and is most probably sippin' on diet coke at the pool party + during the group date? props. crossing my fingers dog lover will not get eliminated because she is a meddling hoot. 

:: if you follow me on twitter, where all good blog posts go to die, you might have read that i met chris powell from extreme weight loss on my plane from phoenix to salt lake city. i positively love that show + watched it religiously over christmas break while puking out the contents of my stomach. something about his voice soothes an upset stomach? i dunno. anyways, i thought i recognized him + began to stare. did i know him? was he from moscow? were we best friends in the past? finally, he muttered a 'hello, how you doing?' which confirmed that i had been intensely staring at him for uncomfortably long.
oops.
i began to gush about how much i loved his show + how i have watched every episode as he took his seat behind me. then i continued watching vanderpump rules + lost all credibility.
also, to add : him + his wife bee-lined it to wetzel's pretzel's after they got off the plane. props, chris powell, props.

:: finally, finally i set up my voicemail. along with best buy + movies longer than ninety minutes, voicemails give me anxiety. eek. side note : did any one ever see the straight-to-dvd movie, one missed call? it's about voicemails which proves that other people must find them horrifying, too.
anyways, amongst a few calls from my old work + the chiropractor i found on groupon (...the hour long massage involved lots of mouth breathing + deep pokes, yowza), there was a voicemail from my brother-in-law who is now on a mission wishing me a happy two years. oh, the drams! it was precious.
...wasn't there a friends episode about this?



the end.

the end of an era : farewell to my license picture!

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today i spent an obscene amount of time at the driver's license division in orem. what is the driver's license division? is it different than the d.m.v.? honestly, i don't know. no clue. i've googled it + it just keeps bringing up the d.m.v. of alaska. alaska, i tell you! i once half-dated a boy who worked in alaska over the summer + he came back sunburnt. so there's that.

i went in slightly optimistic -- the d.m.v. and/or driver's license division and/or alaska is sunny in the summer gets such a bad wrap. it's like monday. why does everyone hate monday so much? i really don't. it's just so easy to complain about. though, while we are here, i really do hate january which is sort of like the monday of the year. y'know?

but alas, the d.m.v. (driver's license division) failed me. the result of my optimism : two hours of sitting, fifteen minutes of contemplating handing the sniffly + over-anxious teenager next to me a tissue, a pounding headache, and no driver's license. see you tomorrow, window three!


or will i? i'm struggling.
you see, i'm not a photogenic person. at all. don't even try to talk me out of this one.
i've completely accepted this fact + am fine with it + will continue living my life ducking out of pictures + blaming the horrified look on my face that just happens on 'bad lighting.' it's fine. but the best picture of me ever taken, my pride + my joy, is my license picture. i love it. at airports, i love handing it to the security people + basically beg them to compliment me on how amazing it is ...for some odd reason, until now it never seemed narcissistic or at all concerning that i seek validation from t.s.a. employees?
ho hum.

i s'pose this is good? i'm trying to find the light. after all, i really don't recognize that girl wearing a button up + giant pearl earrings in my picture. it was kind of a strange outfit choice, even at the time. i remember watching a youtube video that day about looking good in license photos (bless the people who youtube that crap, also bless the people who make all the one direction tributes -- liam! be still my soul!) + having to dull down my excitement over passing the test because my friend (...nikki, cough, cough) didn't pass. hahahah.

it was awkward. i was bronzed. and fifteen.

fifteen was a weird year; i was dating a boy who eventually grew dreadlocks  (reference #2 to a boy i dated ... these things just happen?) + who told me our 'song' was 'all my life' by kc + jojo. yes, that happened. we watched a lot of movies where i felt like i probably wasn't the target audience (undercover brother + most anything with tyler perry...shockingly decent movies!) + he had an unnecessary 'y' in his name that just made my heart pitter patter. it all seems like a different life! i was head over heels + completely naive... then i was quickly crushed + listening to a lot of take a bow by rihanna + should've said no by taylor swift. this literally makes me cringe to type. it was a dark time with ill-applied liquid eyeliner.
oh, fifteen...
i'd gladly erase you but also those tyler perry movies weren't half bad?


...and now it's over! tomorrow i have to go turn in my license (...i think? please tell me you can keep 'em. i'm getting this sucker framed) + say goodbye to fifteen year old, bright-faced brooke who was so, so naive. i mean, kc + jojo people!

wish me luck + pray i don't get too chandler bing with the camera.

a story about when i went to court.

this was taken at a wedding in december. in a bathroom. how much do i look like i want to make-out with my reflection? like, uncomfortably lots. but hi! look at my shoes.

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on friday, i went to court. 

well, actually, on thursday i went to court because the receptionist told me the wrong time. "pregnancy brain," she shrugged as i noted to my future self that pregnancy brain is a socially accepted excuse for just about anything, even wrong court dates + a threat that there was a warrant out for my arrest. FOR MY ARREST! ...but actually it was just a 'bench warrant,' my hearing is just dramatic. 

anyhoots! 

court!

is this something that people blog about? it was really nothing, just failure to show insurance + following too closely. and cooking that blue ice in a fleetwood bounder. my lawyerly father is most probably rolling his eyes at me now and/or crafting an email to politely say that court is not something you blog about. same with periods. 

i walked in right on time + was instructed to sit on a bench with a bunch of other people. criminals, i tell you! we were all squished together + the man next to me assured me that this was a 'nice judge.' he knew because 'he used to do a lot of drugs.' we made fast friends. everyone around me was sweating + also flirting with one another? nervous flirts...drastically better than nervous farts.

after sitting on the bench for twenty or so minutes, i was called into a private room with a different bench + so. many. handcuffs. my dirty mind ran wild + i was instantly disappointed when i was greeted by a portly, sweaty lawyer man instead of a beared jeff stapleton in flannel + a cowboy hat (it's a sexy thought! all sexy thoughts involve odd headwear!). we chatted briefly + i avoided eye contact. it was all very anticlimactic.

then! i was left to sit s'more + listen to other people plead their case. it was all so very peculiar. the judge called the others up individually as portly, sweaty lawyer man (P.S.L.M., for short) chatted loudly with the judge + explained your case,

"this man trespassed + missed his court date due to this + that + what have you..."

...meanwhile the judge stared straight at you. 

it was all very sweaty.

when it was my turn, i walked up nervously + could not contain my laughter. was this happening? this was so elle woods. or maybe brooke windham? (if you are following these legally blonde references, consider yourself smooched!) the portly, sweaty lawyer man (P.S.L.M., for short) ran my papers up to the judge + explained my case. the judge asked me if i was pleading guilty or not guilty + i couldn't decide if people actually said guilty or if it was something they only did on made-for-television dramas. i felt like i did when my dad told me that if i ordered a burger at la casa lopez they would come out yelling at me + singing a song about hamburgers. so much anxiety + so much confusion.

after holding eye contact for a shockingly long time, i mumbled, "guilty...?" + the judge gave me a fine. 

then i was whisked off to a table where a lady in a pantsuit had me sign some papers + off i went! my friends! my people! P.S.L.M! 

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i'm already crushing 2014. i really am. ;)