If I were 17 Again, or the one in which I explain why I heart the dollar theater.

Last night, I went to see 17 Again with the gal pals. We love our teen flicks, especially at the dollar theater where it's perfectly acceptable to audibly give commentary in real time and laugh with full force, even at inappropriate times.

Anyway, it should come as no surprise that I loved this movie, since my personal DVD collection contains much-loved copies of Big and 13 Going On 30. This one had its own magical spin, of course, because it lets Chandler Bing go back in time to gain a little perspective, as opposed to the other time travel, “what is the deal with my life” kind of movies that let the hero of the story have a slice of grownup life to gain a little perspective.

Plus, there was the whole Zac Efron thing, which I’m never opposed to.

Anyhoo, it got me thinking about what I would do if I fell off a bridge into a bottomless mystic pit of youth and were suddenly 17 again.

1. Adjust attitude. Remind myself that 17 was not ALL BAD.

2. Quit one of my jobs (at the mall), realizing that I wouldn’t save any of the money I made there. Oh, and I hate it and it isn’t building character. It’s a time suck and a massive drag.

3. Keep my other job (piano lessons), realizing that it’s one of the best gigs I’ll get. Love my students and do it exactly as I did the first time, except maybe give them more candy and more technique exercises.

4. Enroll in Journalistic English and join yearbook staff, knowing that writing would be both my sanity and a large part of my future profession.

5. Get a gym membership, realizing that the next year of my life and every year thereafter, working out would make me feel like a totally new woman, every single time.

6. Stand by my decision to not participate in the Junior Miss program.

7. Continue not caring about the popular crowd. Befriend the kids who eat lunch alone. High school is bad enough even when you DO have friends.

8. Quit worrying, realizing that life really does get better after high school.

What about you? What would you do if you were suddenly 17?

This is why.

This is why I like Mark. And why he should blog more.

Me: Did you hear that Michael Jackson died?
Mark: Yeah, I just noticed. First Sam Weller, then Farrah Fawcett then MJ. All our great entertainment icons are gone.
Me: Don’t forget Ed McMahon!
Mark: That’s right. And Marlon Brando. And also Humphrey Bogart and Shakespeare. I have no concept of time.
Me: I just lol’d. Thank you.
Mark: You’re welcome. Hey, they found Elizabeth Smart! Put that on Twitter.
Me: And the OJ verdict is in!
Mark: That’s right. He IS the winner of the Heisman Trophy. Congrats!

oh, hi regina.

thanks for putting out a new album. (and thank you, rockstar diaries, for pointing this out to me.)

i love you for it.

i like these tracks:

btw, when i typed "tracks" just then, i got a flashback tothe store that molly ringwald works at with annie potts in pretty in pink. which made me think of the psychedelic furs. which reminded me that hannah and i are TOTALLY going to their show in september in slc!

music...doesn't it just make you smile?

kate + eight – jon x way too much media exposure – my patience = this post

a while ago, our friend joel mchale pointed out that one of those celebrity news shows (can’t remember which one) called specific attention to the fact that they wouldn’t be covering the octo-mom.

and then the next day, the same show reminded viewers about their stance to not report on the octo-mom.

i’m here to tell you that i will not be reporting on jon and kate gosselin.

i don’t want to discuss kate’s hair. i don’t want to talk about how unfortunate-looking it is and how i think she is trying to do some sort of pennsylvania-style posh spice thingy. i don’t want to talk about the fact that she thinks everyone wants her hair. i don’t want to talk about how it gets constantly spikier and blonder with each passing day. can you tell how much i don’t want to talk about it?

i don’t want to discuss jon’s affair. i don’t want to talk about how sloppy it is to have an affair with a young girl that doesn’t have the super-stealth skills to keep the whole thing under wraps, which sloppiness i can only assume is a ploy for a ratings spike. i don’t want to talk about how (again) sloppy it is to have a drunken snuggle-fest with said stealthless girl in utah where people freaking love jon & kate + eight. outside his own hometown, i’d venture to say that utah is the #1 place that someone like jon would be sure to be noticed, photographed, talked about extensively. can you tell how much i haven’t thought this out?

but most of all, i don’t want to discuss their “celebrity.” kate may have controversial hair, but she ain’t no lauren conrad, and she never will be. not even if she gets extensions. and you can quote me on that.

me talk pretty one day.

I’ve never read that book, but I have good intentions of reading David Sedaris at some point. What I AM reading right now?

Edith Wharton’s The House of Mirth.

Have you read this?

It is one of the many books I’ve bought in the bargain book isle because I knew objectively by the name of the author that it was “a good book” and that I should read it sometime.

So I started it. And I like it.

One thing that Edith has shown me so far is that her vocabulary makes me seem illiterate. She writes in such a way that each word is there on purpose. Every word is hand-picked from her impressive lexicon specifically for that sentence, and the whole thing flows perfectly.

I was an English major once, and I like to believe that at that point, I could write beautiful things, too. But then I was a Journalism major, and would you like to know the feedback I got on EVERY paper for the first two semesters after my switch to the cynical side?

“Good, but you still write like an English major.”

Me, writing a news story, was like David Archuleta singing Chris Brown. You know you remember that. Phrases drawn out waaaay too long, melody flowing a little too smoothly. Looking like a square Mormon kid. (And I can say that because I really am Mormon. In case I haven't mentioned that.)

Eventually I learned to keep it terse. Beauty in brevity. Just the facts, ma’am, but get the name of the dog. Always pick the shorter word. Write like you’re talking to a fifth grader.

All that. I did it.

And now I’ve been out of college for almost as long as I was in college, and some days, it’s a miracle if I can compose a single decent sentence.

My new goal? Speak so I sound intelligent but never become pretentious-sounding. I’m snobby enough without putting any elbow grease into it. NOT that I am saying that I’m in danger of being too intelligent for the people around me. I know lots of smart folks who will always be smarter than I am.

Anyway, to do this, there are certain words I need to banish from my vocabulary unless I’m being ironic, or they are actually the correct word to use.

First I will tackle “awesome.” I’ve hated this word for a while, and it’s time it was banished from my vernacular.

Buh-bye.

There are tons of words and phrases that I’ll need to rid myself of, but let’s start small.

What about you? Any filler words you’re trying to weed out?

mukesh, i hope you aren't mad at me,

but today i did something a little unorthodox. because it is right across the street from my gym, i went to the crest gas station to fill up/get icy beverage instead of going to 7-11.

and i just have to tell you one thing.

well, two.

one - i got an icy caffeine-free diet coke, which i'd never noticed at the sev, and it totally did the trick for me. i was so proud of myself, i finished it fast and got a refill of the leaded variety to celebrate. jk.

two - while crest did have a certain locals-only ambiance about it, which i like, there was no friendly cashier complimenting my fashion choices like there is at 7-11. of course, i was in my exercise garb, and any compliments i receive in that get-up i automatically know are disingenuous.

all in all, very successful outing, and i think i'll go back.

but don't tell my sev.

I heart my dad.

(I’m a day late with this, but Dad, let’s be honest, you expect nothing less from me by now.)

Yesterday when I called my dad to wish him a happy Father’s Day and ask how he liked the U of U mug (I know, so original) I’d sent him, he said, “yeah, it’s a big ass mug.”

I’d hoped it would be. Bought it online. Everything’s smaller online. Online is the anti-Texas.

I bought my dad a mug for Father’s Day (and I’ve never bought him one before, thankyouverymuch) because one of my main memories of my dad is eating/drinking anything and everything out of a mug. Things like:

Alka Seltzer
cereal
ice cream
apple pie

If there is one thing my dad taught me, it's that there is no consumable that you can’t consume out of a mug.

I’m one of the kids who, as Scarlet Johansson’s character in “In Good Company” says, was cursed with a functional family. My mom and dad both were present for every major moment in my life, but I don’t really remember those.

I think the small moments in life are the ones that count, and those are the moments I remember growing up. My dad taught me how to ride a bike without training wheels. He personalized song lyrics for me when he sang me to sleep as a little girl. He played the trumpet at the oddest times. He took me to run errands on Saturdays to places like the hardware store, taking the “short cut” everywhere, listening to Car Talk on AM radio and always stopping to get Hostess fruit pies. And he liked eating things out of mugs.

Most people I know look back on their childhood and wish that they had taken better advantage of the times that they had their parents as their own captive audience, and I do, too, but I’m sure glad I got the moments I did.

So, thanks Dad, for your never-ending love and support. You rock.