Monday, December 26, 2011

I am Legend meets Contagion

It’s Christmas time! Soon our houses will be filled with brothers, sisters, grandkids, and anyone else who can fit. During the celebrations, these houses become breeding grounds for sicknesses of all kinds and before long one cough becomes thousands and soon all sounds are drowned in their roar. Most people get over their cold quickly. A sniffle on Monday, a cough on Tuesday, a slight fever throughout, but by Wednesday all are a picture of health.

Not me.

My body goes around collecting sicknesses. First colds, then ear-aches, soon even stomach flu detains me from everything holy that is this holiday. And so it has been my entire life.

But not this year: No.

This year I was determined to rise above my defective immune system. Little did I know how hard this would be. Little did I know sickness had infected every corner of our house leaving few, if any survivors.

It’s Friday, two days till Christmas and I am writing you from ground zero. I’m currently hiding out in the ‘no no room’ so named for containing all things of extreme value, namely; priceless crystal and china, our baby grand piano, and the coveted Christmas tree. These items assure that the room is kept safe from intruders. How do we do this? Not by an intricate overlay of deathly laser beams, but by crisp vacuumed carpet lines. Every hour mom vacuums back and forth until perfection is attained. Perfection that can correctly identify all intruders by their unmistakable foot size and path of footprints through the room. So far it’s the only place that’s safe. Kids are scarce here and so the sickness stays at bay, waiting for me to leave. I’ve brought a book with me, but heaven only knows how long that will hold me.

This week the house has been a battle zone with the epidemic starting over the weekend when Nicholas didn’t feel well. By Sunday Audrey had fallen in its path taking with her seven others. So far the count is nine sick, three healthy. I’m one of the last. I try to stand strong, but even I know the odds aren’t good.

Tuesday, five days till Christmas: The house is now filled with sniffles and sneezes. No corner is safe. I try my best to blockade my room at night. So far Madilyn, Cara, and I are the only ones who have to succumb. But only time will tell: only time will tell.

Wednesday, four days till Christmas: I’ve started raiding the cabinets for vitamins. Mom’s upset the airborne is almost gone so we’ve started rationing it. I’ve already taken my dose for the day, but I fear the night.

Thursday, three days till Christmas: Madilyn started to sniffle today, I’m toying with the idea of kicking her out of my bed tonight. Adam decided to build a fire. We now sit in a furnace. Does no one realize heat breads bacteria? If I had it my way we would be putting ice blocks in the furnace, anything to kill this joy threatening disease. Jill just got home, which raises the healthy count to four. I just pray that number can hold.

Friday, two days till Christmas:I let Madilyn stay in the bed last night; I woke up with a sore throat. I regret that decision immensely. I snuck into the kitchen and did a double shot of airborne. My only hope is that it will be enough. This afternoon I found mom’s hidden stash of emergence c. I combined two packets with my daily dose of airborne in hopes that it can feed the insatiable appetite the illness growing in my body demands.

Later Friday,we're closing in on Christmas: The illness has spread from my throat to my nose and now my body is consumed. This is my new best friend.

Saturday, one day till Christmas: I’m sick and the healthy count is down to zero. My hopes for health have been dashed and now I enter into a comatose existence provided by a cocktail of drugs, vitamins, and coca-cola. Cross your fingers that I remember the next 24 hours.

Merry Christmas!

Friday, December 16, 2011


This basically sums up finals for me.

So how did I survive finals week?

Well it all comes down to the life preserving laughter received from these little gems I found on the internet.

First, BYU's testing center has a camera filming live footage of the line entering the main testing room. For some, this is a helpful means to check how long the lines are and determine how long they will have to wait in said line. For me this provides moments of immense entertainment as a periodically peaked in on those poor souls throughout the week. I don't know why this amuses me so, but watching the frustrated, desperate, anxious, sleep-deprived, plight of the average BYU college student has became my obsession this week. Just take a gander for yourself.

Second, if you haven't got my emails or checked out my link's on facebook then you've missed out on this blog post. At this very moment intense laughter awaits you at the touch of a button. This button. Click away my friend, but beware, the fit of giggles you are about to enjoy will most likely leave you with intense stomach pains. If you have read this, re-read it. Trust me, it just keeps getting better and better.

Here's a little preview. It just kills me every time I look at it. Anyhoo....

Third, there's pinterest. Beloved pinterest: filled with crafts I will never do, food I will never cook, clothes I can't afford, and hair styles physically impossible for my curls to perform. The best part of this site is the sayings and pictures it provides. For example:

If my phone could do this I would have sent you all whales on a daily basis. Be grateful.
This picture explains why I chose to run in sketchy neighborhoods.... at dark clothes...all summer long. I was determined to have my awkward running/walking/panting seen by no one. It wasn't until I pointed out my running trail to my roommate and she said "I can't believe you haven't been raped yet," that I rethought this whole running thing...and no, running in a safer well lit neighborhood was not an option.

I have literally been waiting forever for someone to say "the more the merrier" just so I can answer with this response.

Caption not required.

So finals are over and I have officially survived three semester of BYU. Now I'm mentally preparing for two and a half glorious weeks filled with nothing but Christmas magic.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

The Facts About ASL

Little known fact {well, unless you know me...} I am in my third semester of American sign language. Yes, that’s right I sign. While in sign I have learned a very important fact and by 'learn' I mean this fact have been shoved down my throat {or would it be hands?} since my first day of class.

Sign language is better that English

After learning this fact I have come to the conclusion that deaf people think a lot about themselves and their language. They get away with such strong ideas because no one has any idea what they’re saying.

Here's a fact I came up with...Lora struggles with paying attention during sign language. In fact I have gotten in the horrid habit of texting during class. Awful. But in my defense if I didn’t text I would most certainly fall asleep.

Picture you this: it’s three in the afternoon, you’re in a classroom that is completely silent, you’re warm - but not too warm - in fact you are the perfect temperature…maybe even a little too perfect.

A comatose existence lingers on the horizon waiting to envelop you. You fight if off for as long as humanly possible and then you give in. You give in to the sleepiness tempting you with its promises of soothing relief from your o so busy schedule. And heaven help you, you dose off.

Then in the middle of a perfect daydream you have a deaf person yell at you...

This is possibly the most terrifying thing that can happen to you and once it does you will do most anything to avoid it…so I text.

That’s not to say the teacher approves, in fact the last girl who was caught texting had the following conversation with the teacher.

Teacher: "Are you texting? I will kill you."


The convo was a bit one sided don’t you think?

For some odd reason deaf threats via hand gestures is a lot more petrifying than the spoken word. Insert the value of my ability to be above average sneaky while texting. AAS {wow some things shouldn’t be made into acronyms}

But I do listen, for instance the day the teacher signed about getting thrown in jail for being mistaken as a prostitute, ya you can bet I caught ever word.

Though I have to admit sometimes texting blows up in my face.

For instance: the day we talked about camels. I saw the sign for camels I looked down to read a text from Danica, and when I looked back up I caught the teachers gaze and in a moment of sheer panic I nodded. I was then asked about camels and I said “yes I know the sign for camels” and I demonstrated the sign.

She then asked me about the various ways one can get on a camel. I told her I did not posses that knowledge having never actually been around camels. After that she went on a rampage of signs where she called me a liar and said several others things I’m sure I should probably know by now. Unbeknownst to me, my nod meant that I agreed to being an expert camel rider. This leads me to fact number 3 of this post: be careful when you move your head in signs, it is far better to sit still and let the teacher think you are an imbecile.

I also have to say the tests have been interesting. I don’t want to get into too many details since this is already a long post, but I leave you with one thing. One should be careful how you sign riding a horse. Apparently, failure to do it correctly will result in you being laughed out of a test.

P.S I feel I should clarify that although this post makes it seem like I don’t like my teacher the reality is I think she is fantastic. Anyone who employs death threats to maintain class order has made an admirer out of me.

Saturday, October 29, 2011


According to my family the blog has become quite depressing {not their actual words, but when your sister calls after reading it to make sure your not suicidal you start putting two and two together}.

In order to become less emo, I’m about to go full on rainbow, sparkles, and moonshine. Prepare to have sunshine thrown in your face!

This weekend Anna and I got tickets to PARACHUTE!

For those of you that have never experienced happiness {a.k.a. Parachute} here is a definition:

Parachute: noun. Five fantastic men that wow with their magnificent lyrics, catchy beats and powerful love songs.... plus the lead singer is to die for. Their music can most commonly be heard blasting from Lora Patterson’s bedroom. Her favorite songs are She (for liz), She is Love, What I know, Forever and Always and many more.

Friday finds me in a car on route to Salt Lake with Ms. Anna, music blasting, chocolate everywhere.

We arrive on location to find that the concert is in fact 100 people in a sketch bar in downtown Salt Lake. Upon entering we are pleasantly surprised to see that we are only mere yards from the stage.

Then the magic started

The opening act was Kate Voegle. Decent, but not Parachute.

She ends and the moment we’ve been waiting for is only minutes away and Anna and I wanted more than anything to get closer to the stage and meet up with Anna’s friends.

We slide through the crowd until we come upon that one weirdi guy that has been full blown dancing and singing to all of Kate’s songs…clearly not the most ideal location.

As we are deciding our best plan for getting to her friends said weirdi starts to be rather rude and even says some…um...unpleasant things about us to his friend. I really can’t explain what came over me, maybe I’ve finally inherited my mother’s spunk, but I decided to have a little chat with this fellow.

I simply told him he and I both knew I could hear his conversation and perhaps it would be easier if he just addressed me. I then told him there was no need for such language and that he should cease his jerky behavior. Then Anna and I went back to the concert.

And then they came in and the crowd went wild.

For the next two hours Anna and I were entranced, they were....brilliant.

Dreams really do come true.

The concert came quickly to an end because the drag queens needed the space for their costume party... I’m not kidding, the night just kept getting better and better.

On our way home Anna and I just kept smiling and silently wondering if we would ever recover fully functioning ear drums again.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

The Neon Clad Tyrant

After the fiasco that ensued the last time I wrote about a boy I have firmly decided to never write about this gender ever again. But alas I have come in contact with what could possibly be the most obnoxious boy to ever grace a literature class. And now I find it hard not to compose scathing reviews of his very character and choice of clothes while suffering through his pompous banter. {ya I wrote this during class... you would to if you were reading Christabel for the 3rd time!}

He is a neon clad tyrant who sits high in his corner seat waiting to swoop in and save us from our failed attempts to glean personal truths from the text. Then he deems to enlighten us to his 'correct' way of thinking with his pointless and condescending opinions. Heaven forbid the nice lady {she's over 40 so I can call her this} dare comment without receiving an eye roll accompanied by an audible sigh.

He even has the audacity to go full on tool with the teacher {
nothing bothers me more than someone being disrespectful to a teacher}. Example;

Teacher: Neon Clad Tyrant, why do you believe that really dumb thing you just said {
this may or may not be what he actually said...but it's close}

NCT: It's self explanatory
{gasp} {eye roll} is there really any point to me explaining it. {EXACTLY what he did}

He even was foolish enough to pull that with me. Here's what happened, the teacher told us to divide into groups and discuss our papers. I unfortunately sat too close to the NCT and was roped into his group. When I asked the NCT about his paper he looked at me, looked back at his papers, started rubbing his ever-rolling-eyes in frustration, looked back at his paper and physically turned away from me.

To which I responded by laughing and laughing and laughing {
I have come to learn that nothing annoys an arrogant boy more than laughing at him}.

Now on to his clothes. His colors of choice have a running theme of random, bright, madness. Who ever thought to pair neon yellow pants with red socks and purple shoes had to be deeply intoxicated. Where do you even find these clothes {
perhaps the men's section of Forever 21}. Each outfit is more disturbing than the last and makes me question his right to criticize other peoples opinions while his ability to choose a wardrobe is so obviously lacking.

So what makes me so brazen to post about his boy without fear that he will find out. Three reasons:

1. I'm positive we have no friends in common. There is no way on this green earth that any friend of mine would associate with this fiend.

2. He would never lower himself to read the rif raf that is this blog.

3. I kind of hope he does read this. Maybe it will make him reconsider his life choices; namely his choices to be rude, intolerant, and ill-dressed.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Why I need to marry a chef... or a dietitian.

Tonight I introduced vegetables into my diet and now I'm waiting to see how much damage this drastic change is going to do to my body.

Complete shock, perhaps?

I know my roommates were.

But more than likely I'll be spending my night suffering through cold sweats from sugar and carb withdrawals.

Here's the thing, it’s not that I don’t like vegetables; the fact is I love them. I’m actually not particular about food at all, I eat anything. So here’s why I've reduced my diet to cheap and easy to make items… I don't cook.

So you're probably wondering "what do you eat?"

Well it varies.

For a while there my dinner consisted of random things {graham crackers, marshmallows, peanut butter} I could find to dip in Nutella....I'm not kidding.

Other weeks I would eat the best cheap noodles Walmart could buy; basically, the things that make your insides want to be on your outsides.

Another thing I did was buy a box of 30 frozen corn dogs from Costco {only 8 dollars!} and VoilĂ , dinner for a month {By far the most brilliant food purchase ever}.

My biggest problem with cooking and eating healthy is I simply don't want to spend my hard earned cash on it. IT'S EXPENSIVE. Before college I had no idea how much money my mom wasted on feeding me a ‘nutritious meal’.

And for what?

So I would live an extra couple of years.

HA, I'd rather blow the extra cash on a Barnes and Noble purchase.

So what do I do when noodles, Nutella, and cereal just won’t cut it? Well I have now settled into a wonderfully inspired habit of eating in excess at parties. This fact has now labeled me as the sad girl who won't leave the snack table. Well people, it's not because I'm too shy to make friends, it's because I'm starving.....

I only hope that one day my body will forgive me for the last 21 years.

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Picking the right song is essential....

Saturday’s are for homework…and everyone knows one can’t study without obscenely loud music playing in the background.

It kills me I can’t find this on itunes. This song combines the quirkiness of passion pit with the groovy vibe of the Jackson five. I am forever grateful to Forever 21 for playing this whilst I was perusing clothes I couldn’t afford. So listen and you’re welcome.

Pumped Up Kicks by Foster the People

I can’t pin point exactly why I love this song. Maybe it’s the catchy beat or interesting vocals, but more than likely it’s the disturbing lyrics. “All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better out run out run my gun....better run, run faster than my bullet.” You gotta love unexplained and irrational violence.

She (for liz)

I got tickets to a Parachute concert and I’m in prep mode for the next month. Those tickets and the songs set me back groceries for the next 2 weeks, but it’s going to be totally worth it.

Before the Worst by the Script…I love this band. L.O.V.E

Every once in a while I throw in a song from a movie soundtrack and then just hit replay for a while.

Here are my top 3

River waltz from The painted veil - a sad movie that at one point makes you question if her husband is actually trying to kill her for having an affair. No worries though, they do fall in love, but then a disease turns him blue and eventually kills him. And even though she has a child with a man who is not her husband she still names the little boy after her dead husband and doesn't go back to her ex-lover {reminder: never use the word ‘lover’ on the blog again} awww how romantic....

503 from Angels and Demons {this is now the alarm I wake up to}

Discombobulate from Sherlock Holmes {brilliant, can’t wait for the sequel}

Keep Your Head Up by Andy Grammer….this is the rope of sanity pulling me up from the pit of despair.

After that I throw in some Adele and call it quits.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Sensibility vs. Irrationality

So you're probably all wondering "where has Lora gone. Has BYU actually killed her?"

Here's the answer, no, but not for lack of trying.

I am currently lying in my bed - blankets piled high, iPod playing, cup of hot chocolate within grasp - in a staring contest with a wall of text books aligned on the far side of my room.

I often find myself in this position: unblinking, staring into the vast wasteland of homework.

This is a time for self-pity. A time where I rethink the direction my life has taken. But more often than not, it is a time where my mind divides into two different beings: sensible Lora who wants all A’s and sees the need for showers; and irrational Lora, the snide, lazy Lora that will do anything for a nap and a cookie.

Sensible Lora: "It's going to be ok, there's probably only 4 hours of reading over there."

Irrational Lora: “I'd rather cut my hair into an unattractive bob"

Sensible Lora: "You chose to be an English major"

Irrational Lora: "Ya because I liked books like Les Miserables and Harry Potter, I have yet to encounter either. I've had plenty of Beowulf and Chaucer, but not a drop of Wilde."

Sensible Lora: "Think of all the authors and books you've found along the way; Emerson, Rossetti, Bronte."

Irrational Lora: "Wow, I think I've just pinpointed why we don’t get out much."

Sensible Lora: “At least read Shakespeare, you love Shakespeare.”

Irrational Lora: “Not if it’s forced! I wouldn’t love a cookie if someone was jamming it down my throat.”

Sensible Lora: “hmmm that’s debatable…"

As you can see the argument is ongoing with no resolution in sight. Sure there are small victories here and there: homework on occasion is finished in a timely matter, but all too often I can be found napping, having fun, or reading books that are not part of the curriculum.

Tonight's form of procrastination is this blog and you are all accomplices to the failing of my life.

Maybe I’ll get up the energy to read Wordsworth, or maybe I’ll go get some frozen yogurt, but most likely I will keep staring at those sadistic jeering books, willing them out of existence.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

BYU Round Two

I can't believe It's been a year since I started at BYU. I remember last year at this time I came up a week early nervous for, well, everything.

That weekend my brothers gave me a tour around campus and if I remember correctly at one point Adam, in an attempt to recreate a normal day in the shuffle of BYU student body, called me a whore while he pushed and shoved me around....good times.

I'm proud to tell you BYU campus is not at all like Adam promised it would be.

That Monday Kyle {the slightly more helpful brother} had me meet him on campus because he was going to get me a job. Of course I wore heels and by the time I trekked it up to Campus my shoes had rubbed my feet raw {see post below for why shoes hate me so much}. After hours of begging for a job I ditched my shoes for the sweet relief of bare feet and to my great chagrin I discovered the sidewalks were boiling hot. By the time I got home my feet had sustained third degree burns that were birthing giant blisters {O you better believe I have a right to be dramatic}.

The rest of the week was spent hobbling around shopping for food, clothes, and furniture while trying desperately to make the most of my last days of freedom.

I distinctly remember how scared I was to be up here and now instead of feeling fear for the unknown I fully understand what I will be put through. I know exactly how much my classes will challenge me and in a weird way I'm more scared for this year than I was then.

BYU pushes you to your limits, but the interesting thing is it also shows you how much you are capable of. I have never felt more inadequate or more accomplished than during my time spent on this campus. It's given me my highest highs and my lowest lows and I am oddly grateful.

Those highs were worth it.

So today, when the thought of school turns me into a jittery insomniac with a vanishing appetite, I dig myself out of a nervous breakdown by remembering how this semester will be different.

I won't be working weekends or late hours.
I already have a solid foundation of amazing friends from this past year.
And most importantly I now know which flavors at the BYU creamery are my favorite.

I have high hopes for this semester, it won't be easy, but it will be worth it.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

I'd Rather Be Barefoot....

Shoes are the silent killers.

I don't know if you've ever taken a gander at my feet, but they are simply atrocious. Here's a picturesque description; utterly flat, slightly vainy, lanky toes, and giant bunions....gross eh. I sure didn't win the gene pool lottery with these ugly whoopers.

{Mine are on the right}

I remember my mom even told me to never show a guy my feet because, apparently, that would be reason enough to dump me. Point taken, what guy would want to pass this gene onto their children {I avoid guys with lazy eyes for the same reason}.

Needless to say shoes are like the oil to my feets water and although I've been aware shoes resistance to handle my feet with care I had no idea shoes hate ran so deep. After many years of growing suspicion, I finally uncovered the secret plot of all shoes to destroy their ugliness. And in complete and utter betrayal my very own shoes have followed suit and conspired to kill off my poor feet.

Every shoe's job has been discovered; flats are over the smashing of my bunions {Should a lady ever mention the word bunions in relation to herself...probably not sigh}to the point of nonrecognition, flip flops supervise the digging of tiny straps into the bony tops of my feet, and heals have full control over punishing my feet for never being built to arch.

The sad thing is I keep buying different shoes in hopes that one day a pair will take pity on my Quasimodo feet. And on that day I won't have to fight the common urge to strip barefoot and scamper across campus as a free woman.

But today is not that day and so, just like the many days before it, my feet are aching and there's nothing I can do about it.

Anyone up for giving me a foot massage :)

...ya I wouldn't do it either.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Being a Lora

Something terrible has happened.

This Sunday I was in Relief Society and they started introducing the new girls and…gulp…there are now three more Lora’s in my ward.

Maybe you’re not so great at math but that is a total of four Lora’s.

I have never had this happen before.

On rare occasions I have met a Lora or two BUT NEVER THREE.

Where's the originality parents? Huh, how bout naming your girls things like Ava or Scarlet. There are no Ava's or Scarlet's in my ward. None.

One of these Lora's even had the audacity to have curly hair. Just who does she think she is? Curly hair is my territory. Thank goodness she was short or we would have had a throw down at ward prayer.

I bet they spell it Laura….lame.

Anyone can be a Laura, but it takes hard work being Lora, nae, it is quite an impossible task for the average human.

Being a Lora means being able to replace a nutritious diet with chocolate and still feel great. It means being able to read a book in a day simply because you can’t stand the thought of abandoning the story midway through. It means being so addicted to music you find it hard to walk without its constant flow. It means using laughter to express a full range of emotions; in Lora-land there is no difference between worry or rile, all is consumed with laughter. Ultimately, being a Lora means doing stupid things because you haven’t quite grasped how to be normal.

I almost feel bad for these other Laura’s because they’ll never get to be a Lora….but really who would wish it on them, it’s exhausting.

Monday, July 18, 2011

Why Wild Times?

A friend was reading my blog and he asked why I name the blog "Wild Times at BYU."

Here's the answer....I have no idea.

I never really thought it through. I needed a title when I started this shindig at EA and now I've gotten lazy and will probably always keep the title wild times and add things like....

Wild Times as a Spinster

Wild Times Stalking James Marsden

Wild Times Living With My Mom (That's right Mom, if this whole dating thing doesn't pan out we're going to be roomies again!)

I know I should come up with a title that's cute, witty, and makes you think (you know, something real philosophical and whatnot), but I kind of like wild times and the variety it offers me.

So just like that tattoo I got, I will continue on living with the impulsive decisions of 19 year old me.

(Kidding about the sweet tat MOM, but not about the living with you, bank on that)

Wednesday, June 15, 2011


For some strange reason people think I look like...well everybody.

Marisa Brown and I have been told on several occasions that we look like sisters. I can kind of see where they're going with this: tall, brunette, lacking in deformities. But the funniest comment came from our Hawaiian friends who thought we were identical twins and sometimes it was hard for them to tell us apart.....okay, have they not seen the furry animal currently residing on my head, that should distinguish me from the greater portion of the population.

Sandra Bullock: This is the most bizarre and untrue. Though it did up this girls status from
friend to best friend instantly.

Natalie Portman: I've had two girls say randomly I look like Natalie Portman. This makes me feel bad for Natalie Portman.....

Jessica Alba: This semester I was at a dance and this girl came up to me and said. "Do you know the first time I saw you I thought, she looks just like Jessica Alba." I really don't think this source counts because A). she was foreign and B) she was foreign.

Bella Swan: This is the strangest one I've ever gotten and it's happened twice. I've been told that I look like Bella Swan...not Kirsten Stuart, Bella Swan. I didn't even know it was possible to look like a fictional character...

Julia Roberts: Anna Herring has been convinced since we were little kids that I look like Julia Roberts. I'm convinced the only connection I have to this star is I am currently sporting her 80's do.

Alexis Vega: This is the one that bothers me the most. A girl from my last ward was positive that I looked just like that girl off of spy kids....I've never been so offended.

Emmy Rossum: But the one comment I hear all the time is "You look just like that girl off that one movie"
Me: "Phantom of the Opera"
Them: "ya"

This one is my favorite because I get to do things like convince my nieces and nephews that I am the girl off Phantom of the Opera and that's why they haven't seen me for so long (college shmollege). Though Nicholas is skeptical, I have Audrey and Sarah in the bag.

Ok, I've saved the best for last. A week ago I was visiting Kelly and I met a guy at her apartment. After I left the guy was asking Kelly who her friend was, you know the African American girl standing in the corner..

O come on, there is no way I look African American. When Kelly asked if it was because of my hair he said no.

I guess I just have one of those faces....

The Curly Purple People Eater

In an attempt to look nice for Adam's wedding I decided to dye my hair. I took great care in finding the best and least harmful hair dye. I even made extra sure I picked a color I had tried before just to avoid any catastrophe.

So of course my hair ended up purple. Purple.

The best part is I did it at one in the morning so there was no time to fix this fax pas. It's a good thing no one sees me at work. Oh wait I'm a secretary who interacts with dozens of people a day. Awesome.

I literally can't look in the mirror. Every time I do my thoughts shift rapidly between thinking it's flippin awesome to sport purple hair to being utterly horrified.

This afternoon I reached a calm where I convinced myself everything would be okay and I didn't look that bad. And then this conversation completely crushed the fake confidence I had spent hours building.

Fellow secretary: "Were you so embarrassed to come to work today?"


Fellow secretary: " but really, did you just scream when you first looked in the mirror"


But seriously, she has a point.

I look like an Anime cartoon.

I'm every Japanese boy's dream girl

At this point I was even desperate enough to tell my mom of my idiotic mistake. What followed was sarcasm and the comment "it's hard to support stupidity." Thanks mom.

So with no help from the fam I sent a desperate text to Kelly asking if she could ask her sister, Lynnette, a certified beautician to help me.

Three hours later we were on our way to a a professional salon store to buy dye, the only problem is I needed cash. Second problem, my gas station has a 10 dollar cash back policy...

One slurpee, a bag of sunflower seeds, and two peaches later we are on our way.

After we grabbed the new dye we took tons of pictures to capture this moment of pure hilariousity.

Now my hair is a normal shade of black. Ok, it's not the most normal look for me, but right now my normal is anything that doesn't match a my little pony do.

Who knew I would have so much in common with Lane Kim.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Rage and Prejudice

Ladies, this is called a reality check.

Friday, June 3, 2011

Nerd Alert

For the past couple of weeks my nights have been filled with adventures of the highest kind. This is a huge shift from the summers of days gone by when my nights were spent reading through adventures lived by other people. Not to say I didn't have fun in my youth, but that fun was restricted to July when cousins and chocolate milkshakes were in abundance and the thought of chores was a distant memory.

However the months leading up to and following July were a time where slavery was legal in the Patterson home and friends were scarce. People still don't believe me when I recount the chores I was subjected to such as scrubbing floor boards with a tooth brush and polishing the walls. Anyhoo.... The point of this stroll down memory lane is to explain that I used to read...a lot

But recently I have stopped reading all together...shocking right. I don't really believe it either, how I could go from averaging 3 to 7 books a week to I fear that at any moment the English department is going to kick me out for my crimes against the program.

I'm even ashamed to admit I have lived in Provo for 10 months and I still don't have a library card...disgraceful right.

Well that all changed last night. I got home and my roommates were no where to be found, so in a state of complete isolation I asked myself "what would old Lora do if she were bored" and then it hit me "she would go to the library....and then she would go buy chocolate."

So that is exactly what I did and I am happy to say I not only stripped the library of all their new arrivals, but I have consumed a bag of my very favorite chocolates. Pure giddiness does not describe how happy I was last night and that's when I realized I am really really really weird. It shocks me that I made it through school without being pumbled on a daily basis.

And on that note I would like to give a shout out of gratitude to all those who have stood by me in my crazed obsession with the written word and have never once attempted to give me a swirly. I know that having to listen as I relayed the plot of my newest book may not have been the funnest thing for you to bear, but you guys endured it like champs.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

The Mustache

The Mustache when worn correctly creates a powerful statement of manliness. It says "hey you I'm way cool because I can grow hair on my lip." Many men can rock the stache such as;


And Hugh with his man scruff

Do you know who can not rock the stache?


Instead of looking downright dreamy they resemble a creepy pedophile. So gentlemen shave those 'date rape fan stache's because (I'm speaking for the whole BYU female population when I say this) I'm terrified.

Love, Every girl at BYU

Thursday, April 28, 2011

One year down....and who knows how many more to go

Well my first year at BYU us officially over. I'm proud to announce I have only suffered minimal trauma and the majority of it was due to BYU's dating scene.....

Though many people decided to extend there academic career into the summer I opted for tanning and reading instead.

Wise choice? probably not, but like I always say sometimes the fun in life is found through stupid decisions.

(I actually have never said this before, but from the moment I typed it I knew it perfectly described my day to day actions and confirmed why I live such a fun life)


I wanted this post to be dedicated to all the life lessons I learned in college. So prepare to be amazed at my newly acquired knowledge.

First, nutella should be on the food pyramid.

Don’t sit in BYU's flower beds at midnight….

Beware of boys in skinny jeans!

Don't eat lifesavers while walking, they will most likely get stuck to the roof of your mouth and you will have a terribly awkward time getting them off without looking like a loon.

Look both ways before pulling out of a parking lot.

Never take a job at the MTC cafeteria.

Never wear Orange; it’s really not any one's color

Curly hair should avoid hats like the plague.

Pretzels dipped in peanut butter and then plunged in chocolate can cure almost anything.

Don’t straighten your hair on a rainy day, you will look like a poodle.

Don’t wear flip flops in the snow, it is conducive to falling.

Be careful who you blog about….ya this one bit me in the you know what

Don’t sign up for a class that has reading Moby Dick on its course list.

Don’t eat noodles in bed, waking up slimy is never fun.

As you can see I have emerged from this experience a wiser more capable person (snort) ready to face yet another year here at BYU....

Saturday, February 12, 2011

The Valentine's Dance

So I never post about dating, dates, or guys in general. Mostly because I have a tendency to be malicious and exaggerate in my writing and I don’t think it’s fair to sic me and the written word on any guy….but I’m making an exception.

The preceding is a fictional story based on real events written in this manner to disguise and protect the leading characters.

Boy asks girl to dance.

Girl is blind-sighted and her friends are absolutely no help at all

Two songs later and she is still with the boy…..friends are quite useless

Guy delivers monologue that includes a list of accomplishments and attributes that would make him an excellent candidate for “the boyfriend". Basically your typical resume rundown; med-school, writer, athletic, blah blah blah....

Girl tries to make herself as unattractive as possible by listing reading as her hobby of choice (it really does ax every conversation)

Guy tries to teach awkward girl how to dance. A series of jumps and dips solidify her as the most graceless dancer there.

Guy then pulls out a stack of 3X5 index cards and a pencil and asks the dreaded question

So she does what any nice Mormon girl would do….she gives him her number…

The end

Instances like this raise so many questions;

Was the guy ever afraid his pencil would stab him during our swing lesson?

Why did he have a stack of 3X5 cards in his pocket?

Is my name and number now on file?

And if so what is his organizing technique; a for "awkward", c for "curly hair", or t for "will bear you tall children"?

But my main question is, why does meeting people have to be so weird? Don't get me wrong, I love an awkward situation just as much as the next girl, but I'm starting to think that bouts of laughter should not follow every interaction you have with a guy....but I have to say it sure makes life entertaining.

Anyhoo, Happy Valentine's Day!!!

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

I should really try harder to concentrate

Classes can be an environment filled with stimulating conversation and hours of learning...they can also be really boring.

I find that I can make a typical class period quite amusing if I engage in immature behavior and thought.

1. Introductions: We are all invited to introduce ourselves and name something about us. A boy named Adam introduces himself and boasts of his ability to shove a two-inch nail up his nose. He then proceeds to demonstrate.

I wonder what amount of brain function he has sacrificed for his craft.

Adam has now put himself on the map as a stud.

2. Class discussion: The teacher poses a question and watches as students climb, push, and jump over each others ideas trying desperately to prove the validity of their own.

The boy next to me makes a rather clever comment.

I check the left hand.

Ring...aahhh typical.

I bet Adam doesn’t have a ring. I check...nope.

I pop my gum, the girl next to me glares.

I have discovered a wonderful new game.

I let off a set of quiet machine gun pops.

She glowers.

I avoid her eyes and quickly resume my studious position:

  • Chin in hand
  • Head tilted
  • Eyes squinted ever so slightly
  • Nod programmed to go off every 2 min.

Hatred darts out of her eyes.

I giggle inside.

She cracks her knuckles. Oh, how I detest cracking knuckles.

She smiles.

War is declared.

The bell rings...

Thursday, January 6, 2011


So I’ve been reading through my past posts of 2010 and I notice a definite theme; anger, sarcasm, fake happiness that masks underlying bitter feelings.....

Ok confession I really didn’t noticed this it was brought to my attention by my mom who said and I quote, “Lora I read Anna’s blog and it’s so happy and uplifting and then I get to yours and its so sarcastic and angry.”

I’m thinking mommy dearest missed out on the parenting class that tells you to not compare your children to other kids..... It’s just down right hurtful.

Yes I get that my post are not filled with rainbows and unicorns, but it’s not MY fault that I'm only inspired by my shortcomings in life. Though I did think about making a goal to be a more positive person….but then I realized how upset I would be when that fell through.

So here’s to yet another year filled with bitter posts from a frizzy haired girl ☺