Is There an Echo in Here? I Wish. That Would Make Conversation a Whole Lot Easier.

You know what I love? Repeating myself. Not only does it double the duration of hearing myself talk, but it also doubles my chances of being heard. It's a good thing I am going into secondary education.

Coming home from school offers bounteous opportunities for repeating myself. You know what I love? Repeating myself. A common conversation at my house goes as follows:

Me: "Mom!!! Phone's for you!"

Dad: "What?"

Mom: "Okay, I'll get it!"

Dad: "What? Are you calling me?"

Me: "No."

Dad: "Anna! Is the phone for me?"

Me: "No, Dad."

I also enjoy telling stories that only get interesting toward the end. That way, people are bound to say, "wait, who did this?" or, "hold on, what happened?" right when I start wrapping things up. Seeing as my stories change with every telling, this gives optimum opportunity to add a little flavor to my tales. It's like getting to roll the bowling ball three times on the last frame. At least, it seems like it would feel like that. I guess I wouldn't know.

My stories often feature the same characters that always make up my life, yet they remain faceless strangers to my parents each time I begin a story.

Mom: "So, who all was there?"

Me: "The usual. Martin..."

Dad: "Martin Milius?"

Me: "No, Dad. The other Martin we know. Plus Kelsey, Brittney, Tom*..."

Dad: "Tom who? Tom Selleck?"

Me: "No, Dad. The one you always say, 'Tom who?' about."

Mom: "Now, who was there?"

Dad: "Tom Johnson? Oh, that Tom boy in our stake?"

Me: "Oh, you know what? Actually nobody was there."

Dad: "What?"

Unfortunately, this conversational trend seems to be genetic. My mom asked me, "Anna, jfwa io fjlkds take down Christmas decorations today?" I can't possibly understand what she was asking of me. It sounded sort of like, "Anna, jklw vni empty jlki the dishwasher," or, "Anna, afie you're fjiofaeio; too old lkanv watch cartoons."

I have concluded that hearing is a gift not to be wasted or overused.

*Name changed to protect the innocent

Annimezing

Welp, it happened. I was invited to see an anime movie. I am not sure what the protocol is on responding to this type of invitation, so I had to think fast. Lucky for me, I am an expert at speaking before thinking.

One time while observing a larger man mount a mechanical bull I remarked, "He shouldn't be riding the bull, the bull should be riding him!" to none other than my larger colleague who merely glanced awkwardly in my direction. "umm... cuz he's so good," I said to clear up the miscommunication. I don't know what he thought I meant by it, I mean the guy was quite the bull rider.

Another time when my mom tried on a shirt in the store dressing room I said, "It's kind of cute but a little worn," to which she remarked, "This is the shirt I came in."

After careful consideration, I have chosen to keep the third example under wraps. See, I am learning from past mistakes!

I knew when my friends started calling having a big mouth "pulling an Anna" that it was time for a change.

In conclusion, watching anime means you are a weirdo and I want nothing to do with it. No amount of thinking is going to change that statement.

Don't Bother Me. I'm Breathing.

The last two times I've tried to write in my blog, I have fallen asleep. I bore myself. That is saying something because I could be entertained in a square, white room with my hands strapped to my back.

I don't see why everyone has to bother me to actually do things. "Anna, let's go to your best friend's birthday party," or "Anna, you can't leave a three-year-old by himself," or "Anna, you should probably get that checked out." "Excuse me," I say, "You are interrupting my breathing."

That's why I try to surround myself with easily entertained people.

Pros?

1. They are a rewarding audience, laughing at simple gibberish words or toot jokes

2. They understand my efficient energy saving techniques some refer to as laziness

3. They tell the best toot jokes.

Cons?

Hmm... negatives of being childlike and carefree... think, think, think.

Looking back, I have always been easily entertained. As kids, Doree and I invented a brilliant game in which we would roll a foosball ball on the carpet towards a goal. When we made

a goal, we could eat a chip.

Another time we layed in my hallway upstairs gargling melodies for about an hour. We even used to memorize all the answers from the first edition of Nintendo Jeopardy. The only competition was who could buzz in the fastest. (FYI: if the question includes the word "snake", the answer's an asp.)

And I'll never forget when Doree pushed me all the way from her house to my house in a bright blue wheelbarrow, a feat rivaling Everest.

Simple entertainment has existed forever. Look at marbles, jacks, paddleball, and calculus for example. Easily entertained people, may as well be dubbed the creative geniuses of our time.

Needless to say, creative genius flourishes in Rexburg, Idaho.

My Post is Longer and Perhaps More Intelligent Than Your Post

My name is Anna Liggett and I am an over achiever. What's so wrong with that? I showed up to class for a book presentation yesterday with a giant tiger's head I had mounted on cardboard, an elaborate display complete with carefully picked book quotes, and even animal crackers to complete the theme. Okay, and I sort of coordinated my outfit to match the display. It was, well, cute.

I may have also spent an hour and a half writing a resume as a fictitious character or looked up the spelling of 'fictitious' just to make sure it was spelled right. You can roll your eyes all you want, but nobody hates over achievers as much as over achievers hate over achievers.

If you want to see a whole package of over achievers wrapped with a tight gold ribbon, just check out the English majors. As everyone knows, no one better than English majors themselves, English majors are intellectual elitists. In a classroom of these bright builders of America, a common discussion goes as follows:

Teacher: "Good Literature," must write dramatically on board. ...e-r-a-t-u-r-e circle, circle, underline, a couple dots for good measure, "What is good literature?"

Students: Intellectual elitism look on their face.

Over Achiever 1: "Good literature should cause change in the world."

Over Achiever 2: "I am gonna play devil's advocate here," because I am so open minded and intellectually advanced enough to see both sides of any issue and not feel emotionally attached to either side so I can make anyone look like he is wrong, "But, what about all the good books that don't cause change in the world?"

Over Achiever 3: Oh, he set me up so well. I just need to name an author and a title and everyone will think I actually read in my free time. "Yeah, like... uh... like. Oh, it just left me. Harpo Lee To Kill a Mockingbird. Boo Radley."

Over Achiever 4: Deno, no... connotation? No it's 'D' for definition. "I guess we all need to agree on the denotation of 'good' when referring to literature"

English Major Who Fell Through the Over Achiever Cracks: "One word. Twilight!!!!!"

Over Achiever 5: "I think we need to be the change we want to see in the world."

English majors, including myself, often think they are smarter than they really are, which means they think they are smarter than everyone ever. They pretend to idolize prominent figures, when in fact, these figures become little more than their nemeses. As such, they seek to subtly backhand these figures where possible.

"Ahem. I admire the literary merit of Edgar Allan Poe. Although his maniacal plot lines leave us questioning his sanity, his legacy lives on." Or else, "Mark Twain was a master of satire, but he hated Mormons. Boo." Or, "Wordsworth uses simple words to express his simple appreciation of the complex serenity we call 'nature'."

Man, this post just reaffirms my proper place as an English major. My voicemail even says, "So you've come to the master for guidance. Is that what you're saying, grasshoppa?" Dang, that is so Eng. Maj.

Halloweenie

Halloween! It's almost here! I can't wait to celebrate the birth of, oh wait, the freedom of... no, that's not it. Our Irish... hmm... what are we celebrating again?

Oh yes! Murder, evil, trickery, and fear!!!!! My neighbors have already decorated for the season with bloody butcher knives and a headstone that says, "You're next!" stuck to their front window. I think I am gonna head over there first.

Actually, it turns out that it's "illegal" for "college students" to go "trick-or-treating" in "Rexburg". So, I am skipping class to think up a new strategy for tomorrow night. Here's what I've got so far:

Objectives:

1. Get candy

2. For free

3. Avoid arrest

Plan A: Obtain switchblade from neighborhood Wal-Mart store. Follow children around. Cut hole in children's trick-or treat bags. Collect trail of candy.

Plan B: Dress as Obama. Ensure parents that their candy will be split equally among all trick-or-treaters. Take candy home for self and friends. Accept Nobel Peace Prize.

Plan C: Inform parents giving out candy that their house is on fire. Agree to risk life to continue "giving out" bowl of candy. After, light house on fire to destroy evidence.

Plan D: Dress as Phantom of the Opera. Turn off power at houses giving out candy. Threaten there are more tricks where that came from over loudspeaker. Instruct parents that their children are at risk if they don't keep their hand at the level of their eye. Collect candy.

My Promise: As a law-abiding citizen, I agree to uphold the statutes of the Rexburg Constitution by following the "No college student trick-or-treaters" law. Fortunately, the loopholes above will provide optimum opportunity for celebration while allowing me to demonstrate my integrity as a citizen of this great town.

Happy Halloween, Rexburg! I can't wait to see all the floozy witch, floozy fairy, floozy bumblebee, floozy vampire, and floozy Michael Jackson costumes you all come up with!

Toot Uncommon

My mother and I often talk about mummies and their exploitation. Believe it or not, it is a huge problem faced by the Mummies of America today. Why? Because there shouldn't BE Mummies of America. We pull them out of their Egyptian pyramid fortresses and put them on display in museums. All those warnings about eternal curses are just poppycock. Right? Wrong. The curse of the mummy's tomb has poisoned America. Just take a look around out our broken society. Those mummies are probably rolling in their glass cases.

The first curse? Tooth Decay. First of all, it ruins the happiest thing we have in our dismal existences - candy. Rainbow lollipops, chocolate bars, and licorice, soda pop, and even little fruit chews with smiley faces have ulterior motives. Second of all, we are dependent on the dentist, who may as well have the head of a jackal.

The second curse? Lines. The grocery store, bank, even Disneyworld, the happiest place on earth, all have lines in common. I wish I could get embalmed now so I wouldn't have to rot away in lines. Heck, if I wanted to rot away, I would just watch tv, eat candy, or write in my blog.

The third curse? Country Music. Worse than pulling your brain out your nose.

The fourth curse? Double Knotted Shoelaces. They make you look like a nerd, but their necessity trumps their lack of style. Not only do we have to tie our shoes, we have to do it twice. It just reminds us that our best is never good enough.

The fifth curse? Facebook. Connecting you to all the people you never wanted to see again. The Ex-boyfriend, the weird kid who breathed on your arm in class, the adult version of the little kid you used to call "Fat Head". Facebook is an early Day of Reckoning.

If only I was there to interpret the hieroglyphics. I could have prevented all of this. People should come to me to prevent things more often.

Cowboys and Pioneers?

Nothing screams Utah like alien hair, Mormons, and Pioneer Day!* Although, I think the alien hair has transported to Idaho. Well, and the Mormons. But Pioneer Day remains Utah's cherished holiday.

As we attended the festivities this year, I realized that some people don't quite understand the meaning behind holidays they celebrate. You'd have thought I would have figured that out when my friend asked my British neighbor how they celebrate The 4th of July where he's from. But no. It hit me when Ian pointed out the Indians pulling handcarts in the parade. I dunno. Maybe they were just portraying the assimilated Indians who journeyed with the pioneers.

Ignorance provides the ultimate conditions for deceit, so I got to scheming. I am an optimistic person. I look at every situation and ask myself, "How can this benefit me?" Then, I do whatever I can to achieve my goals, no matter the costs. It's like they always say. "It's important to be nice, but it's nicer to be important."

That's why I propose a new holiday called, "Economic Stimulus Day" on September 1st of each year. This holiday will boost the economy and raise the spirits of Americans all over the world. On September 1st, each American will send 20% of their year's earnings to a specified location that will surely distribute the cash to various clothing stores, car dealerships, and chick fil a's across the country. For now, we'll just call the specified location A.L.I.G. Get More, Inc. We're here to serve you.

I know, I know. Sometimes I even surprise myself. See you September 1st for a happy Economic Stimulus Day!

*Note: Utahns do not deserve to be stereotyped. Oh my heck are they good people.