Sink Jacuzzi

I'm convinced I have one of the coolest jobs in the world. It's like 50 jobs in one. I can work breakfast, lunch, dinner, or night custodial. I can work line, dish room, or main dish. And within those categories I have even more options- scrubbing or unloading. Deserts/salads/silverware, runner, or wall of salad. Floors, pulpers, mopping, or hoods! The list goes on and on. I even have different outfits to choose from. I can wear a black chef coat. I can wear a purple polo. I can wear a cool t-shirt from home with a button up white thing over it. There's even sweet rubber boots if your job is in the splash zone. How could somebody ever tire of working at the MTC?

Earlier this year, the Lord's Cafeteria invested in a spiffy new giant dish washer machine. For those of you never exposed to the truly sublime, let me explain. After the thousands of missionaries eat in the cafeteria, they put all their trays filled with shiz and clever mixtures of uneaten food on a magic machine that carries them away into the unknown. As trays come through the conveyer belt, we throw all the trash away, spray all the food off every individual dish, and put it through the special water tunnel that makes dishes clean and burns your hands if you touch it.

Anyway, while the giant machine was being replaced, they built us a little replacement sink to wash all the dishes and trays in. I was rather unimpressed and unexcited to wash every freaking dish by hand. UNTIL - floyd turned it on. The sink is more like a mini jacuzzi. It jets hot water and bubbles so the dishes are constantly doing backflips. And it was in that moment I decided I was going to hot tub in the sink.

Sure I've joked about going swimming in the cooks' giant steam pots and taking a shower in the cart washer machine. I've tried fitting into the washing machine and sliding my body through the dish washer. But this is different. This is real. And let me share with you my train of thought.

Possible Bad Outcomes:
Food chunks come out of the jacuzzi jets.
People laugh at me in a swimsuit.
Nobody laughs.
The water burns me alive.
The breakfast manager finds my swimwear clad body floating dead in the kitchen sink.

Possible Good Outcomes:
The water is great.
Other people join me.
It becomes the pool party of the century.
I can write a book about my journey as an MTC hot tubbing pioneer.
I have a story cooler than the time Alejandra accidentally locked me inside a walk in refrigerator.

And apparently some babes did this at KFC and got fired.


I'll keep thinking it over.

women's conference

Every year near the end of April, our school is graced by the presence of hundreds of middle aged women. This often dreaded event is known as Women's Conference. This year I decided to make a list of why I enjoy Women's Conference and why you should too.

1. Fast Food Faster: The line for Taco Bell is empty. Meanwhile the L&T salads place is calling in reinforcements and trying to set up more of those line maze things.

2. Service Opportunities. When multiple people ask you which building is the Wilk, you can feel really intelligent and helpful.

3. Myth Busting. Before Women's Conference I didn't know people actually wore shape ups. Boy was I wrong. Whether or not they work is another question.

4. Overheard@BYU is more entertaining. For example: Someone at BYU for Women's Conference: "Are you wearing a Jimmer shirt, too? Does everyone wear them at BYU?!"

5. Urinals are fair game. It's the one time of year it doesn't matter which bathroom you go into. Unless you're a boy, then you're out of luck.

6. Bookstore sales skyrocket. Apart from selling overpriced textbooks, I'm pretty sure the bookstore makes most of its yearly profit from women's conference and efy kids. How many students do you see buying music boxes, cookie jars, hallmark cards, and framed pictures of temples? We might not even NEED a bookstore if it weren't for this yearly event.

7. Anything can happen. During this past women's conference the Provo PD and firefighters were called in to help a conference attendee who had fallen down the bookstore stairs. Let's be safe, ladies. Please use the handrails.

From Parent to Child

Dear Blog,

First off, let me apologize. I know we didn't really get off to a good start. I understand why you may feel out of place. Because while most of your friends were born out of love, you were not. You were born out of reluctance. Out of obligation. Out of duty. Yeah, you were born from a news writing assignment that required me to post an article to my non existent blog.

In the months following your birth you were abandoned. I blame myself as your mother and my anti-blogitude. Let me explain. For a long time I believed people who blogged were bored with their real life so they made a fake virtual one. They were moms wanting to broadcast their children's cuteness. They were newly wed housewives with no jobs and lots of computer time. They were anime watching, scrapbooking, diaper-changing people. And I wasn't.

Then came the day I needed a friend. A friend to help me sort out all the thoughts in my head. A friend I could tell my secrets to that would keep their mouth shut. Since humans were out of the question, and handwriting took too much effort, I rediscovered you. And so you became my hidden journal.

Time went by and really cool stuff happened all the time. Things I could have blogged about. Things I didn't think I needed to blog about. So why after all this time, am I finally making you public? Because honestly, I need a place to write about stuff so that people can see how cool I am. Call me selfish, call me careless, call me whatever. But now that I'm going to be a copywriter, I need to write. Go figure.

Maybe you loved the mindless posts that once filled your walls, but they're gone. They've passed. They're dead. They're murdered. They're saved to my computer in a secret place because they were embarrassing. There- I said it.

So now, staring into your blank bloggy face, my life's experiences flood my memories and all the epic things I could have written about. But we can't live with regrets. We have to move on. Life is still going to happen. It's still going to be awesome. And together we can capture it, admire it, harvest its organs, and share it with our friends and family.

Here's to you, blog. Through it all, you've never let me down. May our future bring us friends, fortune, job offers, and sweet bloggy jubilation.

With Love,
Kristen