iMooch

This week I took my mooch to our nation's capital, where I was nothing less than inspired to found iMooch:  The DC Chapter.  Some of you may know that back in my early college years, my very moochy roommate, her moochy cousin and I started an iMooch group on Fboo to get the word out on all the free treasures to be discovered in the Provo metropolitan area.  That group has all but flat-lined since none of its original founders are living in Utah anymore.

Ergo, iMooch: The DC Chapter.  It will start with 2 fabulous discoveries I made whilst exploring the District of Taxation Without Representation this weekend.

First, the JW Marriott Convention Center at the Shops at National Place.  It's big and humongous and virtually empty, excepting a handful of men in business suits and security guards. Because it is The Shops, any one can go inside, but no one really goes to the convention center unless you need to FedEx something, or you indeed have a convention to attend. But I had to pee and that excuse trumps the previous two any day.  It didn't take more than a glance to the left, a glance to the right, and a tour of the extravagant bathroom to realize that this place was not meant to be nearly as accessible as it was.  But if there's one thing I've learned in my mooching career, it is that not a soul will question your motives so long as you 1.) don't dress like a bum, and 2.) look like you know what you're doing.  Due to the nature of my visit, I was walking around in a pencil skirt all day.  Not the most comfortable option, but golden for blending in at the JW.  I took my time freshening up in the aforementioned luxurious bathroom.   Then I found a nook with overstuffed sofas where I kicked up my feet and read a surprisingly un-extreme Glen Beck book while my phone charged at a desk. All the while helping myself to ice-cold lemon water that was just chilling in jugs all over the place, seemingly absent of any company other than my own.  Anyway, remember this place if you ever need to pee and/or re-charge in style.  

Second, Sprinkles Cupcakes in Georgetown has an app that gives you a secret "word of the day" that you can whisper to the cashier to get a free cupcake.  Something like the first 50 to whisper it get the goods.  But I'm not sure how strictly they adhere to that rule since it was almost 9:00 pm when we went and we both walked away with a delicious banana cupcake free of charge.  So basically if you live in Georgetown you can eat free cupcakes every day for the rest of your life.  I don't really see why you'd want to live anywhere else.  Shout out to Annie for this sacred iMooch insider's info.

By the end of the year iMooch: The DC Chapter should be up and running and serving the mooching masses of the Capital City.

Technology

I now have a Smart Phone. A couple years kinda late, some may say.  At least 8 years too early, I say.  You remember how long it took me to get an iPod...

I love putting off gadget upgrades until the last possible minute.  It's a contest with myself to see how long I can survive.  I almost always win, considering the iPod was thrust upon me. 

So, naturally this is out of character.  

This is me whilst Smart Phone shopping yesterday:

Irony

I told my brother, who's serving a mission in Atlanta, to focus his efforts on finding and teaching young, spry, black males who would join the Church, come to BYU, and consequently beef up our basketball team and add speed to the football team.  He's workin' on it.

On the flip side, it appears our hip hop dance team wants for nothing.  The Cougarettes are as white as ever and best in the nation.  Ironic.

Watch them here.

Road trip to my past

My exodus from Utah began like this:

I have decided that this is where I belong.

The 12-hour journey up through Montana and into Home Sweet Panhandle flew by.  Mainly because entertainment consisted of listening to MCAT prep sessions (not for me, obviously) and old Russell Brand radio shows.  Excellent combo.

And then, we made it.  My beloved Idahoan paradise.  Behold:

Ze view from ze house

For those of you who may not know, I went to high school in Northern Idaho and we're selling the house we built up there.  So long, House.  I hope someone loving and wonderful buys you.  Someone who appreciates the joy of living amongst moose and mountain lions and ferocious biting bees, on a dirt road, with no cell reception, miles away from civilization.  I will miss you.

BA with a BA!

Har har har. Ho ho ho.  Hah hah hah.  Hoo hoo hoo.  I'm particularly proud of this post title.  Gosh I'm clever.

But fo' realz, guys.  I graduated.  Finito.  Fini.  Terminat.  DONE.  NO MORE SCHOOL EVERRRRRRR!!!!!!.....until grad school.  But until then...NO MORE SCHOOL EVERRRRRR!!!!!

With my diploma (Uh...well, diploma case with a sample diploma inside.  But let's not split hairs here.) in hand and a head-full of 4 years-worth of both awesome and useless information, I am ready to conquer the world!  My BA in European Studies and French Minor are my golden keys to success.  All you peeps who had "practical" majors like econ or accounting, go eat your hearts out because I know you're wasting away in dullness at your boring desk job.  Did your department host a convocation ceremony with a spicy Venezuelan band and a REALLY SPICY (awesomely pushing Honor Code limits) tango performance?  Doubt it.  'Cause that's what we're all about at the Kennedy Center for International Studies: equipping ourselves with ultra-useful degrees in European Studies or Middle Eastern Studies or whatever and then using our presumptuously pedantic expertise in foreign affairs to save the world....mostly by sitting around eating brie and talking about saving the world.

Kidding.  Obviously.  You love your desk job.  The world needs you. I need you.  I need a job. And a desk.  A desk job, even.

Well, folks. It's been a memorable...6 years.  Yes, 6 years--an 18-month mission, a Study Abroad with minimal emphasis on study, and ice skating and Irish dance classes will prolong anyone's college career.  It's been great.  Since the moment I moved into my janky shoebox dorm room in D.T.

Freshman

Oh, D.T. I'm so honored I had the privilege of living within your prison-like brick walls as they crumbled (literally) around me and the nastified carpet and gooey showers that certainly made me immune to any form of fungus I could possibly pick up anywhere in the world. Cheers.

Sophomore

I couldn't get out of Utah fast enough but at the same time I'm plotting my next trip back.  It's a horrendous love-hate relationship.  Toxic.  Most of you who read this have relocated to Provo for college and know the feeling. I am tremendously happy and relieved to be gone.  But I won't deny that I have left bits of my heart in the following places/objects:  [Kind of a gross analogy.  But I can't be bothered to delete it and think of another one. At least I said 'bits' and not 'shards' or 'sinews' or something.]

-The mountains.  Mt. Timp staring me in the face.  Begging me to hike her.
-International Cinema.  Great foreign films for free, with all the Euro boobs and saggy butts conveniently edited out.
-Free stuff EVERYWHERE. Coupons, student discounts, 2-fers.  But mostly free stuff.  Time to retire my iMooch group on Fboo.
-Home basketball games
-The Chocolate.  And everything associated with it.
-Pendulum Court
-Ducks
-The JFSB 4th floor patio
-Provo Farmer's Market
-There's more. Enough to devote a second blog post to.

The worst is when you discover something amazing, like, a month or less before you leave:

-Station 22. Where have you been all my life?
-BYU Rugby.  Where have you been all my life?
-The dreamy Australian computer lab assistant. Where have you been all my life?

Junior

Farewell, Provo.  You've been good to me, you weird city.  A toast to a bountiful next 6 years of life!  Huzzah! Did I just toast myself?  I swear I'm not that narcissistic.  But it's my blog and I'm a college grad and I do what I want!

Senior 

Happy Sunday: Mormon Temples from an Episcopal's Perspective

Who has two thumbs and a Bachelor of Arts degree? This girl.  In an effort to regain sanity and basically, well, BREATHE for the first time in three weeks, I'm on a little weekend vaycay.  But to preserve the Happy Sunday tradition, here is an excellent article written about Mormon temples by an Episcopalian priest.  It's very well written and offers great insight to the purpose, sacredness, and NON-CULT-NESS of LDS temples.  It's from the Huff Post.  

Enjoy. And, as always, Happy Sunday. 

Happy Sunday: Christ Has Resurrected! or, Mishaps at the local Orthodox cathedral

One of my favorite things about Romania--and the Eastern Orthodox religion in general--is the utter enthusiasm for the resurrection of Jesus Christ.  Easter is a big deal for them.  And not just a big deal at church.  It's everywhere--the streets, the buses, the markets, the liquor stores...  Wherever you go you will be greeted with a good, hearty "Christ has resurrected!"  This is the Easter equivalent of, well, any salutation or farewell.

"What's up, man?" "Hey, girl, hey!" "Hello again, officer." "See ya, Grandma."

"Christ has resurrected!" covers all of those,  And the proper response: "True, he resurrected!"

How awesome is that? No hiding the flame of Easter spirit under a bushel for them.

Last night I hit up an Eastern Orthodox cathedral in SLC to celebrate the good old fashioned Romanian way (yes, their Easter happens to be one week later than ours this year).  After a service where the priest chants and sings a lot, he walks down the aisle of the church with a giant torch of sorts and those of us who are closest to him light our candles and pass the light on to the rest of the congregation.  Apparently it's bonus points if you light your candle directly from the priest's flame, so obviously I stood on the aisle.  I need all the help I can get.

"Coooommee and partaaaaaaake of the liiiiiiiiiiight," he chanted.

I grew more and more eager as he approached me.  It seemed to take ages.

Finally, he was within arm's reach and I stuck my candle out to partake in the goodness.

Then something went awry.  His big ol' candle wobbled out of its holder and landed on my foot.

This could have happened:

Luckily, it did not.

Now, can someone please tell me the protocol for this situation?  Is it extra bonus points for me or none at all?  That fire is supposed to be straight from the Holy Land itself, so does the fact that it extinguished on my foot curse every Orthodox person until next Easter?  If so, my deepest regrets, you guys.

But on the plus side, Christ has resurrected!  Shout it from the roof tops!