a compilation of complete ruckus.

Wednesday, April 19, 2006


i just lopped, chopped, cropped my hair seven inches. and died it brown. and got bangs. it's the new me. emo. as hard as i'm trying to not like the things emo people like, i am becoming one speedily. why is it such a bad thing you ask? well emo is the new nigger. 'cept niggas are the new big mac, so that's contradictory.

anyway, wanna hear the hair reactions??

1. my friend in my class said it was a good idea, cause now i can really show off my hicky.
2. my not-so-friend in my class said it was "a trip". i turned around with a messed up look on my face and asked if that was an insult. he walked away awkwardly, so i grabbed him and asked again, and he gave me one of those looks that withoutfail means, well, 'yes'.
3. the my favorite kid at my work was shocked when i told him i died my hair. he couldn't tell. let's think about this. i was plat-i-num blond and am now dark dark brown. but he's half mexican, so it explains.

anyway, the hair is cool. it's gruel. okay? okay. well if anything, it's better than jaaf's. mah. ha.

Monday, April 17, 2006

man oh man oh man oh man.

i have the worst bellyache ever. but seriously.

well, i had the best idea for a blog last night at about 2 am. it worries me that i am thinking about it even while i sleep. but i woke up with this brilliant idea, and was either extremely excited about it, or freezing from the open window, cause i didn't go back to sleep for an hour.

either way, i finally sat down at the computer(presently) and cannot seem to remember what the great idea was. this is one of those moments my sister gen and i used to call a "yogi bear". one night we were sitting up for three hours on trying to remember that dang bear's name, and once we realized it was yogi, we decided that was how we were going to refer to those times where you go up and down crossways crazy cause you can't remember what something is called. the tip of your tongue.

i spend a lot of time beating around the bush. in life, on the blog, in general. i'm the most blunt person you'd ever meet, but still afraid of being open. this only happened recently, i used to have 0 secrets. i believe this is a result of trying really hard to be funny, educated, and pretty. and to be honest, i truly don't care if i'm any of these. i've come to believe i do it subconsciously for entertainment. i go to sleep at night and laugh at myself for being such an idiot. it's almost fun. almost.

this was a confessional. this all started yesterday with my family getting a glance of the hickie on my neck i'd been trying to hide for two days. i think i was more angry that i had put such effort into hiding it when they found out than the fact that they had actually seen it. anyways, i'm realizing that its way more fun to be the dirty growing-up/not growing-up fool i am, than an awkward pretty girl with a crass sense of humor. the second goes over well. i don't think i'm ready for that.

Tuesday, April 11, 2006


This may sound like a stalkerish thing to do. Write an entire blog on your older sister, but first of all it was her biiirthdaay yesterday, so it got me thinking, and second of all, i'm her stalker, so in order to fulfill that duty, i do indeed need to write long blogs about her.

what i can remember, starting with age "young":

-i bit her in the back. i think, i hope this is the write story with the right people, or it's going to be a riot. you know how mad people get when you tell the story wrong, even if it means that They were really the ones that bit her in the back. Anyway, i remember watching the home video of gen's back, with a GRUESOME bite right in the smack-dab middle of it. me, i was running around in the backround, i believe proud of how i had "showed her".

-gen and i had gone to my friend k.c.'s house to feed her cat. we were walking over, and knowing gen's worst fear in the entire world was a doberman, i realized what a funny joke it would be to act like there was one right behind her. i whispered for her to stay calm, and then made a large "roof!roof!" as she ran all the way home crying. I specifically remember this one because it was the first official time gennie told me she "hated me". what a scandal.

-gen had just moved into malia's old room, and exciting event in itself. i wasn't feeling too good, but had to tell her something, can't remember what. i ran to her room, opened the door, and hurled right on her carpet. not saying another word i had closed the door and gone to the bathroom to finish up. although it made perfect sense to me, this was i'm sure one of gen's "why me!" situations. who expects their sister to come wandering in the room, politely puking, and closing the door behind them? i hope she knew i was just a blessing in disguise.

-haha. my favorite gen memory. every year gen, myself, and our two cousins would do a christmas program. we'd plan months ahead creating our skits and dances with large candy canes to mariah carrey and harry conick jr.'s "santa's comin' to town". now by every year, i mean every year until gen was, well pretty old. i'm starting to realize that gen might not like this blog, but i remember her laughing every time we bring this up so i hope it's okay. if not, my black eye, was from a large piece of machinery. i promise. anyway, the last year, our brother jonathan made a cruel joke about how we all needed to grow up, and gen threw down her candy cane, and the christmas programs were finished forever. until we reajurn(spelling that incorrectly i assume)in no time.

-lastly, gen and i were both entire wusses. or best friends, one of the two. ever since the collumbine incident i found myself a huge scardy-cat, so i'd sleep in her bed everynight. we'd stay up all night talking about the guys we liked, and NO one was to know we even liked boys. gen-nate hunt, me- seth ensign. best camp out in her bed event- i peed in it in seventh grade when i had a bladder infection. grossest part= the stench lasted for weeks. sorry gen.

anyway, i guess what i'm trying to say is HAPPY BIIIRRRTHDAAAY!!!!(yesterday). you've been an awesome sis, i love ya.

Monday, April 10, 2006

perfect. complete.

i believe this is one of the first times i've seen the numbers 3:44 on the clock not accompanied by the red dot symbolizing p.m. usually at this very minute i am sprawled across a tiny bed, open mouthed, and drueling. however, tonight i've found myself in a complete mess of a room trying to complete a four page paper on the benefits of buying angus cattle. how the hell did i get in that kind of a pickle? it's taken me since 8 p.m., and i've gotten utterly no where. don't you hate that.

here is the problem at hand. not only have i just realized that all of my pre-concieved notions about buying cattle were wrong, but i have literally gone crazy. for the past ten minutes i've been staring at a letter from my friend on a mish in scotland, listening to "kokomo" on repeat. and enjoying myself. it seems to me that four in the morning is underrated. there is a whole rhelm of myself i never knew existed, but i like it.

4 in the morning Hilary-
= listens to the beach boys and starts to feel an almost spiritual connection with them. why DON'T i go down to kokomo?
= eats two packs of life savors as if sitting here were more boring than an hour long sacrament meeting. where are the animal crackers.
= just finished sending really lame emails to all contacts in my email account about how we really need to catch up because boy, it's been a while. tomorrow morning(in two hours) i'm going to wake up and realize there was a REASON i haven't talked to those people in a while.

well, to all of those who i am suuuure are passed out and dreaming of one night stands with celebrities, goodmorning. to me, goodnight. p.s. don't mention this blog to me, ever. i can tell you know i'll blush and come up with really lame excuses for why i rambled on about all this nothing.

Thursday, April 06, 2006

It's been a freaking while.

I haven't bloggercised in a while, but today i am literally bored out of my noggin. okay, obviously not literally, because if that were the case, it wouldn't be humanly possible.

there is a little boy in the library wearing florecent blue rain boots, and it's making me mad. i found myself this morning overwhelmed with a surge of jealousy toward anyone under the age seven. Not only do they get to play jacks and enjoy it to the extent it should be, but they have absolutely not a care in the world. by the time i was seven i had hardly realized i was more than just a candy-eating machine, my biggest worry in life being that i would never learn to read more than the words "max can run."

I have reached the age eighteen and eleven months. I see myself in the future sitting at the end of my daughter's bed, hearing her complain about how jamie punched her in the head, my reply being "you think that ten is bad, wait until you turn eighteen and eleven months. I pray you never do." okay, i obviously wouldn't pray she would never reach that age or anything to that effect, but i would like her to fear that very day, because anyone should be prepared for such hell. message to mom, why didn't you let me know sooner.

age 7:
-school= free fun. it consists of crawling up and down the walls and desks, handfuls of paint that you get to smear across large spans of paper, and the only thing that you dreaded was the half an hour of forced sleep they liked to call "nap time."
-boys were the enemy. all they did was wear old clothes with food all over them and try to spread their coodies. They were more mysterious than anything with their "boys restroom" and what not. what was in there??
-all the future held was walking home from school tomorrow with jenny smith. and praying that someday, somehow, mom would let you take dance lessons.
-money was completely reliable. it just flowed into your parents pocket, in and out, growing on trees. it didn't really matter what it was, you got toys and candy from it. and whatever that was, was good. (side note= i distinctly remember having the thought when i was younger "what's money??")

age 18 and 11/12:
-school= $1,511 every three months. It consists of hours of essays and trying to fix your broken printer. By the end of a six hour day in a hot kitchen, the only thing that may remedy this pain is just a half an hour of "nap time."
-boys are still the enemy. at least one thing never changes. Still wearing dirty shirts, but now have also developed a cute habit of breathing heavily. and looking at your butt. There isn't anywhere they haven't spread their "coodies" by now, and have grown from illiterate wandering fools into action-needy wandering fools.
-the future is terrifying. tomorrow could mean you are evicted from your apartment, and you owe thousands of dollars to some company for some bill. It could mean you fail all of your classes and there is no future at all. It could mean kids, and carpool and crying in the grocery store aisle.
-money sure as hell doesn't grow on trees. it hardly grows anywhere. everyone everywhere is scrambling to get there hands on it in any form they can. they're taking it out of your pocket, and people are taking it out of theirs.

okay, so in a nutshell, pissing, 18 and 11 months........................................................blows.