My friend Ashlee and I were once asked to "settle down" at a Josh Groban concert because we were dancing too crazy. True story. It kills me every time I think about it. Leave it to Ash and I to pull out the body rolls while Joshy is belting out "Machine". Few things please me more than dancing ridiculously...especially if it doesn't fit the music. haha
"Dear Oprah,"My friend Kori and I did extensive research trying to contact Oprah. For the longest time, we have wanted to have our own travel show. It wouldn't be a travel show where you go from fancy hotel to fancy hotel. It would involve us crashing at crazy hostels, taking dance classes, talking to strangers, etc. Needless to say, it's really challenging to get ahold of Oprah. Who would have thought?! haha We genuinely believed she would be on board and would support our show. Hilarious. Also...I still kind of believe in this plan.
"Dear David Archuletta,"
When my sister Kenzie and I drove around together, we'd take turns choosing the music. There was a phase when "Crush" and "Little Too Not Over You" by David Archuletta were making frequent appearances on our playlists. I had her convinced at one point that he had written the song, "My Kind of Perfect" about me. She was really irritated when I would point at the speakers after each line and say, "You see? Doesn't it sound just like me?" haha Obviously he did not write that song about me but speaking of contacting celebs, I did reach out to him at one point to thank him because his music helped me through some rough times. haha
We recently had a YSA activity with members from all over New York, Connecticut, New Jersey, Massachusetts, etc. I was getting ready for sacrament meeting and put my coat on the seat to my left. A gentleman and his girlfriend (I assume) came down the row with the guy sitting by my coat and the girl, next to him. His girlfriend left for a few minutes to get a drink or something and he turned to introduce himself and asked me basic questions about what I do for a living. We had a brief chat about working with survivors of trauma.
At one point in the conversation, I saw a little ball of spit slowly but surely, float out of my mouth, as if in slow motion, heading toward the guy. Yes, it flew over the chair between us and landed on his leg. So embarrassed, I said, "I'm so sorry for spitting on you" and reached over to wipe the spit off his leg. Of course, this is the very moment that his girlfriend comes back to sit by him...when my hand is rubbing down his leg. Excellent. "Don't worry miss, what looks flirtatious is actually the exact opposite of that." Eek.
We'll stop there for today. Happy Friday!