Rock the Vote: WWYRK?

Sadly, my last poll drew so few votes that I actually know who each vote belonged to.

Heineken: Neil, Carly, Erika.

Corona: me, Alice.

I know it was about beer...but IT WAS A JOKE, PEOPLE! I was sad to have my (pretend) choice of beer lose to Neil's (pretend) choice. But I guess it's all about image and preference.









But I'm not giving up just because you didn't vote before. I've just decided to introduce my new and ongoing Who Would You Rather Kiss polls since they have been so popular in the past.

So don't let me down--Vote Early.Vote Often.

Terms of Endearment (or Neil wants me to call him Steed)

There's a road you go down in a relationship and once you get to a certain point, it's hard to go back. Early on Neil started using terms of endearment, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it no matter how hard I tried. And I was really worried about it because I thought he wanted me to. I couldn't even bring myself to refer to him as my boyfriend in his presence. I talked to everyone about my concern. I spent a lot of time looking for ideas on the internet. I even asked advice from my mom who told me I was "just going to have to do it."

Once while visiting Carly, she asked if I had just called Neil "Dear" and remarked on how cute and/or sweet it was and I had to let her down by telling her that no, I'd said Dude. "Dude" was my term of endearment for Neil until we were married and then it became "Husband" and now just "Husb" with an occasional "Mufasa" thrown in.

I don't know what my problem is. Why is it so hard? Maybe it's because I can't recall hearing a lot of terms of endearment used when I was growing up except on TV or by girlfriends who called each other "Hon"--and that's just not something I can get behind/pull off. No offense if that's you (Carrie), but I never did it and I don't think I ever could. However, I believe I mentioned to a friend (Hoss, was this you? I can't remember, but please see comment below re: my memory) that I hated when girls posed for those up close pictures with their cheeks smashed together---and then it wasn't too long before some photos of me in that exact same pose turned up, shattering my outspoken aversion to the cheek-touching-photo. So perhaps I've called you "Hon" and I just don't remember it. I have been told more than once that my "memory is a$$."

So please have some sympathy for Neil and give me some advice on how I can turn my ship around. Thanks in advance.

Cowboy Up

This is our family motto, as of yesterday. Neil was thinking we needed one after pondering Carly's post re: "Pauls Don't Quit." I'm not sure if Carly was being serious or not about their motto. But that's okay because I don't know if we were either. I'll have to check with Neil on that.

I mean it is a good motto. But I would like to say I had nothing to do with coming up with it. It is totally unrelated to my watching 8 Seconds with my Freshman roommates about 50 times. Nor does it have anything to do with the fact that at the end of that year, I did a choreographed dance--part of which was a scene taken from the wedding in 8 Seconds-- in front of my ward with 3 of my roommates, one of whom thought she could "live the 8 Seconds dream," another who decorated her half of our room with all things Mickey Mouse, and lastly, the roommate we called "Ratgirl" behind her back.

I've really come a long way since then. I would never dream of doing such an immature thing now. My current daydreams consist of doing surprise lip sync performances at a ward talent show. I'm usually lip syncing the lead to "I Hear a Symphony" with friends doing back up, and we are all in our sequined Supremes-style dresses. It's either that or "Never Say Die" by the Dixie Chicks. Usually I'm lip syncing but sometimes I'm really singing because in my daydreams I have a much better singing voice than in real life. And usually I haven't told Neil that I'm going to be performing and he looks up at me with love (because of course I am singing to him) and pride and shock at what an awes voice I have.

I mean I wouldn't really do something like that. It's just my standby daydream. And it's way better than really doing the 8 Seconds wedding dance in front of 300 Freshmen.

"Marcy's Comeback" - Take 7

I'm not going to try and catch you up on of what's been going on since my last post 192 days ago, because it would probably be nothing but long and lackluster. It's enough to say that in the last 6 months, I flew across the country for John Wayne's 100th birthday celebration, rolled 3 Yahtzees, and made a tablecloth that was too small for our table, while Neil purchased 4 handy adders, 3 timers, and beat me in all 3 rounds of Dance Dance Revolution at the movie theater arcade.

I mention the Yahtzee thing because I am really into Yahtzee now. Probably because I have the best chance of beating Neil at a game that involves chance. But that's what I get for marrying such a smarty. And he's always really nice about winning...at least since my "Don't be a butt!" tantrum of 2006.

Do you like my new template? I thought if I gave my blog a haircut, so to speak, it might breathe new life into my blogivation. Well, it's time for me to head to lunch where I will eat my sandwich (which better not be mortadella) and my peach, and call my grandmother for my weekly update on Paris Hilton and CourtTV.