All For You.

This crap is stressing me out. I am trying to be healthy and lose a pound or two, in addition to earning as much money as possible in order to get a prom dress worth wearing. I have a VERY specific dress in mind, and I’ve been irrationally stubborn in regards to attaining said dress. No other dress seems as perfect as the one I have in mind, and I’m having immense difficulty coming to terms with the thought of having to get a different one.

That dress. Right there. That’s the one.
So I’ve been doing tons of babysitting, and trying to eat really healthy/exercise, and I’ve been doing really good- but today I totally fell off the wagon. I think it started because I had to weed Satan’s Garden this morning. It. Was. Torture. Waist high, thick, thick weeds, COVERING A HEALTHY-SIZED YARD. I was grateful for the opportunity to earn more money, but it was so frustrating at the same time. I kept repeating “it’s for the dress. You can do this for the dress. The dress will be worth it. Think. Dress. Think. Dress.” I didn’t get to finish it all, but I’ll come back later. The worst part about it was definitely the seeds. Little tiny yellow seeds all up in my gloves, in my hair, and even IN MY EYES. I PULLED THREE FRICKIN’ SEEDS
OUT
OF
MY
EYES, PEOPLE.
SEEDS DO NOT GO IN NICE GIRL’S EYES.
It was not a fun time. So here I sit, with a butt that’s as sore as the day is long, legs that are blistered and strained, and fingers that weep gently every time I move them. All for the sake of my dress. I’d better look gorgeous in that thing, or I’ll torch the world.
Maybe I’m being dramatic, but this dress seems almost crucial to my happiness. With a few simple alterations, I feel like I would be able to feel my most beautiful-which is kind of important, when you take my date into consideration. I want to be beautiful for him. And no, it’s not because of who it is. Every formal dance I’ve been to, I have a need to feel as beautiful as possible, because I want to have my date appreciate my appearance. Vain, isn’t it? But I want to give them something in return for asking me out (or in some cases, agreeing to go with me), by looking and feeling my best. When I feel beautiful, I think it makes me look more beautiful, which leads to me having a better time and then I can take the focus off my looks and try to make my date feel as comfortable as possible. So that’s why I want this dress. I need to feel beautiful before I can feel comfortable, and Prom is a big deal, so I want a dress to match the occasion. I don’t want something super bright and flashy, and I don’t want something super poufy or fluffy. I want simplicity, beauty, and elegance. And I feel like that dress provides it.
But I digress. I majorly screwed up today as far as eating goes. I’ve been trying to limit my portion sizes and only eat natural foods/ cut out dairy and meat, but since I went on a date today, I ate more than I intended to, and then I made everything worse by eating ice cream at home and taquitos for dinner. So I feel like a fatty, and it’s making me super uncomfortable. So tomorrow I am making up my mind to have a renewed vigilance in my diet of sorts, so that I can look my best in my dress.
Also, I dreamt the other day that Prom sucked. So I’m trying my best to make sure it doesn’t.
Boy, you’d better be ready for the best Prom of your life. This is (almost) all for you. A good chunk of it is for the dress.
But also you. Because you’re, you know, my date and stuff. And I want to feel good about this whole shebang.

-DQ#1

Words with cups, rather than friends.

It’s not for lack of friends, because I actually have many marvelous friends. But you see, we have cups with our initials on it, and I realized that you could spell words with the cups. OH MY GOSH.
SO COOL, RIGHT??
The first word that came to mind, however, was hags. And the sad thing? That word is created using only the initials from the girls. Coincidence? Yes. My parents would never plan such a thing… Right?
Here are some of the words I’ve come up with. It’s actually really entertaining!

Gad IS a word, right?

DANGIT. I FORGOT GAS.
Oh well. It’s super entertaining! I’m so GLAD that my mom HAD the idea of giving us GALS and LADS different initials. (see what I did there? I used the cup-words! :^O)
**Does that smiley up there look like he has a double chin?**
On another random note…
I’ve noticed that I’ve been posting a lot more frequently recently. Pretty obsessively, actually. I’m not sure why it is, but I have this desire to blog about every little thing! Which, I guess, is good for you, my darling readers! Unless you don’t check my blog as often as you should. Because if that’s the case, you might have missed my prom posts!! NOOO!! Go back and read them. I promise you’ll find them stimulating and low in fat.
Yet another random thought: my 500th posting is coming soon, and for some reason I feel that that merits some sort of celebration, be it a video post, a giveaway, or some other exciting thing. Your thoughts? This momentous blogging occasion is about YOU, my readers. Because if I didn’t know that someone out there in cyberspace was reading and (hopefully) enjoying this little ol’ blog, I would have no reason to post.
At least I assume you read it. I get, like, 1 comment per month. 😛
But I digress. Comment and let me know if we should celebrate such a special occasion! (subliminal message in order to garner comments)

-DQ#1

The Reply

All weekend I’ve been periodically getting insane amounts of butterflies and slight dizzy spells, because the anticipation is KILLING ME. I just needed to reply, and it was driving me nutso. Plus I’ve been stressing out about my dress and stuff, so I just wanted to get it over with and have one less thing to worry about. So I did this:

Uh, yeah. I’m that awesome. I plopped it into a cute envelope covered in mustaches,

And gave it to Mr. Dalton to deliver in 2nd hour.
He got it, and now we’re good! Now I just need money for a dress…..

-DQ#1

A dive into deep history. And old emails.

Okay, so have you ever emailed someone only to have a mailer dude named Daemon send it back to you because you were wrong and you suck? I certainly did. I got emails from mailer-daemon@googlemail.com more often than I’d care to admit, and then I decided to have a little fun. I pretended that Daemon was my boyfriend, my best friend, etc. It was fun stuff, guys. Or maybe I thought it was fun because I had no friends. I was only 13, so you’ll have to cut me some slack. I was WEIRD. Here’s proof of an email I sent Daemon, that I forgot about until today, while cleaning out my inbox:
The subject line was ENGAGEMENT ANNOUNCEMENT

Hey babe, I’ve been thinking about you. What colors do you think we should put for our engagement announcements? I’ve been thinking about it and I think we should do hawaiian flowers with a polka-dot trim. Cute, don’t you think? Oh, and when should we tell Mom and Dad about our little ‘announcement?’ We’re going in for the ultrasound next Tuesday so I think it should be soon. They’ll be thrilled! At least we won’t be like your cousin Mavis, five kids before eloping in Lithuania and not even TELLING the parents where they were? I’m just glad we skipped out on eloping. I can’t wait to find out what genders the octuplets are! I’m starting to show, and I’m excited!!! So, honeymoon ideas? What about that little fish shed in Payson? That was cozy. Or maybe we can afford that snazzy cardboard motel in Florida. Anyway, I hope you know that I love you passionately, and I’m looking forward to our little make-out session tonight. 🙂 Save me a spot by the fountain!
— 
Passionately, lovingly, forever Daemon’s beautiful and heavenly vanilla-scented girlfriend, 
Haeley almost- Mailer.

(our future children!!!)

Oh. My. Gosh. I am ridiculous!!!! But also hilarious, even at such a tender young age.
I also found another email that’s a bit newer, that I sent to my friend, Micah. We were doing a drama scene together and he’d lost his script a few times. I guess I got impatient? You be the judge:
The subject line was SCRIPT… REVISITED.


Alrighty, Micah. This is your LAST CHANCE. If you delete this again, you will be handcuffed to a raging goat, dragged across the Sahara, and forced to eat your own eyebrows.
 This will happen right before AIMS, therefore stressing you out and sending you into a psychotic rant and forcing your mother to make the difficult decision to chain you to an anchor in your third cousin Sandra’s basement in Austria, being fed on solely raw eggplant and almond shells.
Why almond shells, you may ask? Because your mother knows how much you like almonds, but because you must be punished, she is only going to feed you the shells.
Eating said shells will only further your insanity, leading you to have strange dreams in which a man comes to you wearing a biker jacket, tuxedo pants, and Crocs. This man is Mr. Bowers, except with an Irish accent and a strange obsession with the Tibetan cuttlefish. Mr. Bowers will advise you on three things:

  1. Be punctual
  2. Always tie your shoes (and don’t forget to wear them to school [*cough cough* ninth grade *cough cough*])
  3. And thirdly, never eat fish that was not previously inspected by the FDA.

By following these rules, you will be awarded the GOLDEN EGG OF TRIUMPH, an award previously only given to deceased monks that lived in Kazakhstan. However, this will only be a dream, and you will wake up cold, chained-up, and alone in your third-cousin Sandra’s Austrian basement, feeding on slightly soggy eggplant and almond shells, because your mother fears for your mental stability, and decided it was in everyone’s best interest to “put you away”, so to speak. But do not fear! If you simply:

  1. do not delete this email,
  2. do not delete this email,
  3. do not delete this email,
  4. do not delete this email,
  5. do not delete this email,
  6. do not delete this email,
  7. do not delete this email,
  8. do not delete this email,
  9. FOR GOODNESS SAKES DO NOT DELETE THIS EMAIL,
  10. do not delete this email,
  11. do not delete this email,

You will be guaranteed success! And our scene will be awesome! Thank you, and goodnight.

See? What’d I tell you? Comedy GOLD, people. Jeez. I need to write a book or something, because I am full of wit and good humor!

-DQ#1

Another Prom post

Guys, I am legitimately freaking out.

I’m sorry you have to hear it so often, because if you text me, that’s all I’ve been talking about. I’m sure it’s been a miserable twelve hours for you, hasn’t it? Thanks for letting me whine at you. You can skip this post if you want, of course, because it contains more of me freaking out.
But really, I am so scared. I don’t know what I am going to do! I feel a bit like Cinderella, going to the ball with a prince, when I’m really just a maid.

Where am I supposed to LOOK?! When we’re dancing, of course. I mean, I know I should look at him, but what if he feels awkward when I’m looking at him? What if he doesn’t look at me? And I know if he smiles at me while I’m dancing with him I’ll lose it and say something stupid. Because that’s what happens when cute boys smile at me. My brain disconnects and I start rambling, regardless of if I actually like-like them.

What if I trip on my dress? I don’t want to trip on my dress! What if it rips? What if I start sweating and he can feel it? That’s sooooooo gross! What if that turns him off? What if he decides to dance with other people more of his caliber? You know, popular?
Why would he choose me? That’s what keeps running through my head right now. WHY ME?
Don’t get me wrong, I am flattered beyond belief, and so excited, but still. I’m just Haeley.

I’m starting to worry about my house, too. I am going to have to deep clean it before he gets here, even though he’s probably only going to see the living room, at most. I can NOT afford to have someone like him in a dirty house. Also, all of my siblings must be clothed. Thing 2 wasn’t for one of my dances, and that was AWKWARD and EMBARRASSING. I already know I will embarrass myself without any of their help, so I will not tolerate shirtlessness, even if it is Thing 2, and even if he does have an adorably squishy lil’ belly.

Also, what if Thing 1’s first tee ball game is the same day?? I’ve already figured out what’s going to happen. I’m going to ask my date if we can stop by to see him for just a few minutes, because I am seriously so excited to see that boy play a real game! I’ve been waiting his whole life. Literally.

And what about other people being jealous and whatnot? He’s pretty much king of the campus, and little old me is going with him. What if I get nasty notes or gossip or something? I don’t want anyone to hate me!

Oh my word, does he have any idea what this is doing to me?!

I’m still so excited. And worried. I can’t sleep, and I haven’t tried out the whole eating thing yet, but it’s probably going to be an issue for me.

Oh, and let’s not forget pre-dance nerves. Anyone who’s been in the car with me before I pick up a date knows I get nervous (Julia, I’m cyber-looking at you), and I don’t just mean light butterflies. I’m talking serious, melt-down, I’m-screaming-in-the-car-trying-not-to-throw-up nerves. It gets really bad. Emotions are a physical affair with me, and I’m scared I’ll actually throw up while waiting for him.

AAAAAAACK!

BUT…. He still chose me. That means that obviously he likes me enough to want to spend an entire evening with the shortest 11th grader in school. He wants to dance with me for the biggest dance in high school. He wants to go on a day date with me. He wants to get adorable/cheesy pictures taken with me. ME.
And I think that little thought is worth all my worry. Because that little thought is awesome.
I’m going to PROM!!!

-DQ#1

p.s. I can’t stop staring at this in utter disbelief:

My heart and my head say this whenever I read it:
You. Me.
Spazz attack??

The Invite

Ever since the big announcement of Prom, I have been fantasizing up a storm- which is the norm for me. Specifically WHO would ask me. I’m going to be honest here- I really wanted a certain guy to ask me, because he’s fun, he’s nice, and, yes, I know. He’s super cute. And also really popular. So in my mind it was always a nice picture, having him on my arm, and all the girls steaming in jealousy. Yes, I am vain. Don’t try to pretend you wouldn’t love that to happen too.

So since Prom has been rapidly approaching, I’ve been trying super hard to not eat as much, because I want to lose weight for Prom. So my mantra has been simply, “prom”. I say that, and all of a sudden, I do not want to eat that extra serving of noodles, and I want to work out for fifteen days so I can look the best possible. Don’t judge me, okay? I’d like to feel confident while I’m dancing, thank you very much.

Then I had this realization: not only was there no chance in the world that he would actually want to ask ME out, nobody would. I really couldn’t think of a boy who would ask me. So I consoled myself with the idea that maybe I could take pictures for people! That would be fun, right? I could take good ones, too. I’ve got a good eye, and maybe I could even make money off it?? Or I could paint nails!!! I’m good at that, too! Perfect!

Then I decided to stop being hard on myself. Who MIGHT ask me out? Ooh, maybe T! I would LOVE to go with him. That would be so nice. We’d have a great time, I feel totally comfortable around him, and he’s such a sweetie. Yeah. I want T to ask me out.

Bad news. Someone told me he might not go to Prom. Great.

Cut to Wednesday. I was in first hour, minding my own business, when a girl walked in with the most adorable thing ever: a tall vase full of gumballs, with flowers coming out of the top and sparkly twirly things, with the letters P R O M ? scattered in the mix. My heart leapt. Was today the day? Was I about to be asked to Prom??? “Is _____ here?” the girl asked. Regrettably, she wasn’t. But she eventually got it, and I’m sure she appreciated it immensely.

Cut to today. Between Ballroom and Drama (1st and 2nd hours), I was chatting in the foyer when the minute bell rang. I trotted up the steps to the auditorium only to find the most stunning array of roses on the stage, set up on a charming little table bearing an envelope with the word PROM? Printed on it. My heart leapt once more. Was THIS the day? Was I really, truly being asked to Prom? Then I looked over and saw my homecoming date from last year sitting next to the bouquet, and I decided that I couldn’t possibly be asked by him: he already took me to Homecoming, so it would be kind of unfair of him to ask me out again. So I dismissed the idea and reverted to my plan to take pictures. Then I got called up to the front desk. I walked briskly out of the auditorium, and skipped down the steps. “What’d I do?” I said, only half joking. Mrs. Edmunds said “I called your name like three times!” and handed me a paper box with a cutesy little straw coming out of it.

I gave a little squeal and said, “Am I getting asked to PROM?! *squeal and excited little wiggle*” Mrs. Edmunds just shrugged and gave me a look as if to say, “Why do I care? Go to class!” So I did.
I stared at the box throughout the announcements trying to figure out who it could be. I immediately came to a conclusion: it was probably one of my guy friends. Upon closer inspection, I ruled out one of them. He didn’t have that kind of style, and the other dude was more apt to have stripey paper straws laying around his house. More his style. Or more his mother’s style. Obviously he got some help.

Clever little touch, no? Crossing out the name. Clever boy.

So I waited impatiently through announcements, and as my curiosity and excitement increased, so did the shaking in my hands. Pretty soon I knew I was going either pee, scream, or go insane, so I waited until the lucky girl was called up onstage to receive her invitation, and then I opened mine.

No. Way. WHAT? Was this some sort of joke? There is no way THE BOY I HOPED is actually asking ME, HAELEY WHETTEN to a dance. Not just any dance. Prom. Prom. Prom. PROM, PEOPLE. PROM IS THE BIGGEST FREAKING DANCE IN THE HISTORY OF SCHOOL. Last year he took pretty much the most gorgeous girl in school, which wasn’t a shock, and honestly, I can’t believe he would want to take someone like me after her. I’m so short, and I have a funky smile, and I wear dorky t-shirts to Ballroom, and, and, I’m short! And I’m not popular. And I’m not any of the girls I totally thought he was going to ask. And I sweat during Ballroom, which makes me feel gross and smelly the rest of the day. Why would he want to go to Prom with that?

I started freaking out, and asked Mr. Helmbold to be excused to go compose myself, because I was about to go into cardiac arrest. So I went out the door…. And saw him. I turned around as fast as humanly possible and ran the other way. I got to the bathroom and called my mom. She answered the phone, and I really began to lose it.
“MOM. GUESS WHAT.”
“What?”
“GUESS-GUESS WHAT.”
“What?!”
“GUESSS!!!!!!!”
“WHAT?!”
“I GOT ASKED TO PPPRRRRRRROOOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!! *squeal*”
“WHAT??? WHO ASKED YOU?!”
*in a small, squeaky voice* “McKay!!”
“WHAT?!?!?!?!?! OH MY GOSH! THAT IS SO AWESOME!” *laughs*
At this point I was hyperventilating, and in a few minutes I was starting to feel tears form. That’s the three stages of being asked to Prom: shaking, hyperventilation, and tearing up.
I called my dad, and I told him the joyous news. Then I calmed down very, very slightly and went back to class.
I realized something scary just then: I have Citizenship with him. What was I supposed to do?! Just play it cool, maybe totally ignore him? Tell him to get lost because I’m trying not to lose my head and that I came up with a genius way to reply to him? No. Ignoring him was my best bet. However, as the fates would have it, he sat right next to me. And smiled that cute smile, and said in an adorably teasing way, “So, did you figure it out??” Since he blasted right through my plan, I flirtaciously replied, “It took me a really long time… Super difficult.”*bats eyelashes*  He grinned charismatically and said, “Well, I WAS in disguise…” and then chuckled attractively.
 All through the day, I’ve felt like this:

I couldn’t focus on me Chemistry test, I couldn’t wait to get out of Choir, and even now I’m feeling slightly woozy. I’ve been battling bouts of self-doubt all day, and it will probably continue/get worse up until the day after the dance. That’s who I am, and I do not understand it when boys ask me out. I can’t imagine them actually wanting to go out with me, but somehow, I’ve brainwashed them into thinking I’m worth their time, and I’m not complaining, because I love going out on dates! It’s super fun!

I still would LOVE to go with T to Mormon Prom. I think that would be way fun. I hope maybe he thinks so too….?

Oh my gosh you guys, I feel like this:

And that’s just the half of it!
Look for a post in which I reply soon!!!!!!!!
GUYS I AM GOING TO PROM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-DQ#1

A post in which I chatter about makeup.

It’s good to be passionate. I am, by nature, a passionate person, and I am particularly passionate about 3 things:

  1. Males
  2. Music
  3. Makeup

This isn’t in order of importance, of course. But I am really passionate about them. Not WITH them. I’m not passionate WITH males. Get your minds out of the gutter, people. Geez. 

Awkward tangent. Anyway, when I find something that makes me feel really excited, I get… Passionate. Or obsessed. Your call. But I can’t get enough of said obsession, and if I’m not in possession of it, I can’t stop thinking/fantasizing/dreaming/drooling about it until it’s in my clutches. Which gets difficult when it comes to males. But whatever.
My latest passion in regards to makeup has been:
Have I made my point clear yet? I am SO OBSESSED with orange lipstick lately. Ever since I heard it was a trend, I’ve fantasized about it, and dreamt about how awesome I’d look with a punchy pout, and yesterday my dreams came true. Yesterday I bought the most wonderful lipstick ever:
Rimmel London’s Lasting Finish Lipstick by Kate Moss, in 12. That’s the shade right up there. I LOVE Kate lipsticks. I have three of them (now), and I love them! So you can imagine my delight when I found this juicy shade. So of course I bought it! Naturally, I kind of worried about how it would look, because I don’t want it to clash with my skin tone and whatnot. But I got home, swiped it on, and….
Fell in love. I look every bit as good in orange as I thought I would, plus some! Oh my gosh you guys, I love it so much. I’m so happy with it. I love, love, love this color. And to make everything better, I went on a date today, so I got to pick out a cute outfit to go with it, and I totally look adorable. I’ll post pictures soon, and I might even do a makeup tutorial! :^O That’s how much I love this lipstick, peeps.
Makeup is the bomb. Love it.
-DQ#1