Bjorklundosophy, volume II.

You may recall from this post that my family has a very special way of communicating: primarily through sarcasm and catchphrases. I gave you ten of our catchphrases and the oh-so-charming (that was sarcasm) stories behind them.

Amazingly, we've come up with ten more. Prepare to be Bjorklund-ized.

Or as we like to call it...

Bjorklundosophy.

(a note: this is written in the third person because I put it all together in a hardcover book for my family. third person seemed totally appropriate for a book called Bjorklundosophy.)

Who wouldn't?
Of the many words one might use to describe the Bjorklunds, there is one in particular that comes to mind. “Kind?” you say. “Glorious? Humble? Spectacular?” Actually, no. “Cocky” is the word you’re looking for. Bjorklunds believe that they are God’s gift to humanity, and they are quick to tell you so. They do this with one special phrase: “Who wouldn’t?” Allow me to demonstrate. Should someone say, "I wish I could be as fantastic as a Bjorklund," a Bjorklund would respond, "Who wouldn't?" The "who wouldn't" reply is used primarily when something even slightly positive is said about a Bjorklund - and a Bjorklund goes ahead and takes it to the next level of narcissism. Bjorklunds are also allowed to "who wouldn't" themselves: they don't need to wait around for someone to say something flattering about them (but really, who wouldn't?).

Do you really want to know?
Bjorklunds, by nature, collect great stories like some people collect stamps or fine wines. Bjorklunds have myriad tales that would rank in the "best story ever" category, and this is easily one of them. When the youngest Bjorklund, Mitch, was just a teeny tiny first grader, he picked up a book in the school library. Sounds innocent enough, right? Oh no: the book was about serial killers. Innocent little Mitch was reading his book - specifically, the chapter about Jeffrey Dahmer - when he came across a word he didn't know. Mitch did what any intrepid reader would do: he asked his teacher what the word meant. The word? Sodomy. Mitch's teacher gave the best answer she could: "Go ask your dad." Mitch came home that day and did just that. Tim looked Mitch dead in the eye and said, "Do you really want to know?" Mitch nodded eagerly: yes, he did really want to know. So Tim explained sodomy. Mitch, wide-eyed, said matter-of- factly: "I didn't really want to know." From that day on, when Tim answered a question with "do you really want to know?" it meant that whatever the answer was, the Bjorklund children sure as hell didn't want to hear about it from their parents.

I should've fished the gene pool a little deeper.
I owe you an apology.
We know who the mother is.
Tim uses these delightful phrases whenever he wishes to eschew genetic responsibility for any flaws apparent in his children. It's important to note that Tim only voices these phrases when Brenda is within earshot. Poor Brenda has heard any and all of these sentences innumerable times over the nearly thirty years that they've been parents: poor eyesight, unruly hair, and large noses have all been blamed on Brenda. However, these phrases are not exclusive to whatever is wrong with the kids. If Brenda starts to (gasp!) show traits similar to those of her own mother (GASP!), Tim feels the need to ask for forgiveness from his children, as this will most certainly be their fate as well. This goes over really well with Brenda. The Bjorklund children all wonder why Brenda never apologizes for choosing their father – especially Mitch, who hears the terrible “you look just like your father” more often than anyone should have to.

Your sister... (passive ownership)
When Bjorklunds cannot apologize/explain away the imperfections (read: batshit craziness) of their family members, they resort to not claiming them at all. This delightful loophole is known to the Bjorklunds as passive ownership. For example, let’s say that Calla does something stupid… like date a studio art major in college. When Brenda is telling Darrah and Mitch about what a dumbass Calla is, she will say, “Guess who your sister is dating.” The ownership of dumbass Calla is placed squarely on Darrah and Mitch. This method spreads well into extended family… Tim will tell his children about “your mother’s brother's nephew” when the person in reference is his own son, or Calla may refer to “your husband’s son-in-law” when telling her mother about James’s obsession with yellow Subarus. The more convoluted the ownership, the better.

the faaaaather
In the great cache of favorite Bjorklund movies, Home Alone stands near the top. However, this favorite Bjorklund- ism comes not from Home Alone, but from Home Alone 2: a film inferior to its predecessor, but still possessing some fine moments of its own. The moment in question comes shortly after Kevin McCallister arrives in New York City. He records his voice on a Talkboy, slows it down, and plays it into a phone to make a hotel reservation under his father’s name. Kevin introduces himself as Peter McCallister, the father. However, on the playback, it becomes “the faaaaather.” Tim, the faaaaather of the Bjorklund clan, now leaves voicemails that all begin with “this is the faaaaather.”

Choose wisely.
Tim has issued this warning over the course of many years. It originated when one of his misbehaving children was given a choice: the right thing versus the wrong thing. The children were encouraged to choose wisely, an admonition that didn’t always stick. Over the years, this caveat became less applicable to behavior and was more commonly used in regards to the choosing of significant others. Amazingly, the Bjorklund children didn’t always heed that warning. Which brings us to…

It's not that we don't LIKE him...
You can say one thing for Tim and Brenda: no matter what kind of loser their children drag home, they’ll give said loser a chance. This Bjorklund catchphrase first came into being on the greatest day of Calla’s life: April 1, 2007. You may recall that was the day that Calla coerced her art-major boyfriend (whom her dad wasn’t particularly fond of, which was well known to Calla) into calling Tim and asking for Calla’s hand in marriage. Against all odds, Tim took the bait and spluttered through one of the most stressful phone calls of his life. Calla was listening in, and she heard him utter the now- immortal phrase: “It’s not that we don’t LIKE you… we just don’t KNOW you.” So if you ever hear a Bjorklund say this about you, it’s not that they don’t KNOW you… they’re just trying to get out of saying that they don’t LIKE you.

Poor James.
Only one of Calla's significant others has escaped the “it’s not that we don’t LIKE you” treatment, and that would be James. Everyone (Calla included) is still a little bit stunned that kind- hearted James would choose to join the rough-around-the-edges Bjorklund family… but then again, who wouldn’t? James is the opposite of a Bjorklund – he has a hard time saying a mean word about anybody, and sarcasm doesn’t come naturally to him. The Bjorklunds, as you may recall, are quick to point out his flaws: motion sickness and lactose intolerance being two that come quickly to mind. However, after mocking him for a minute or two, they will follow up with “Poor James.” Whether “poor James” is in reference to his maladies or in regards to his poor judgement in marrying a Bjorklund remains to be seen. My money is on the latter.

Anyone? Bueller?
As you know, Bjorklunds love a good movie quote – especially when it can be consistently interjected into real-life conversations. Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, like Home Alone, holds a place in the Bjorklund Cinema Hall of Fame. And this particular Ferris Bueller quote is astonishingly easy to sneak into everyday use. Any time you ask a question and are met with a delayed reply, the best possible response is to slip immediately into Ben Stein mode and say "Anyone? Bueller?" It never gets old.

SIGH. I miss Mexico.
The Bjorklunds took a trip to Cancun in January 2013, and it was one of the best family vacations ever. A week of white sandy beaches and blue waters + mojitos all day, every day + sunshine in January + Mom's drunk again (see volume one) + did I mention the mojitos? The Bjorklunds long for their days in Mexico like some people long for the good old days. To the Bjorklunds, the good old days = that week in January that they spent in Mexico. Whenever they have a sub-par mojito at a bar (and let's face it: any mojito not consumed on a beach in Mexico is a sub-par mojito), or the weather is less than absolute perfection, they heave a mighty sigh and say, "I miss Mexico." Who wouldn't?
(editor's note: after Bjorklundosophy was written, we Bjorklunds took a trip to Jamaica, which was completely and totally amazing. I would imagine that this phrase will soon become "SIGH. I miss Jamaica.")

Assburger/Trojan smile.
Tim and Mitch have a habit of smirking in pictures, and the remaining smiley Bjorklunds are forced to say ridiculous things in order to get Tim and Mitch to crack real smiles. "Assburger" and "Trojan smile" are two of those things. "Assburger" originated on a family trip to Arizona. The Bjorklunds were in a restaurant contemplating lunch, and Darrah left to check out the gift shop. She returned to find them discussing Asperger's Syndrome. "Assburgers?!" she exclaimed. "I thought we were having hamburgers!" The Trojan smile came about one Christmas Eve when Mitch received Trojan condoms in his Christmas stocking. Allow me to give you a makeshift flow chart for the long journey of these condoms. Mitch finds condoms in the basement -> confronts Tim -> Tim says they could be his from a birthday card prank several years ago -> the condoms show up in Mitch's stocking months later  -> Calla claims ownership from an ill-fated high school movie -> but wait, Bob bought them, so they're Bob's. Everyone promptly died of laughter, and every Bjorklund is more than happy to demonstrate a big Trojan smile.

-----

My family is obviously not a normal family. This is exactly how we communicate, and I can honestly tell you that I wouldn't have it any other way. 

That, my friends, is Bjorklundosophy.

(if you've been paying attention, you'll know that there are actually eleven catchphrases here instead of ten. consider it a bonus.)

let's talk about my record player.

I have been told - more than once - that I am an old soul.

This is either a great compliment, or it's a roundabout way of telling me that I am boring... but in a sweet way.

I'm choosing to go with the former.

You may recall that I have had a powerful love for Simon and Garfunkel since I was approximately twelve. I was twelve in 1999. What 1999 twelve-year-old disregards N'Sync and Britney Spears for a folk duo from the 1960s?

THIS 1999 twelve-year-old.

I saved my allowance and bought all of Simon and Garfunkel's albums on CD. One Christmas, I asked for a record player... and got it.

That record player is what this story is all about.

If I had to guess - and for the purposes of this story, I do - I would say that I was around fifteen when I asked for a record player for Christmas. It was 2002.

It is important to note that record players are totally trendy right now. Hipsters the world over have been buying new record players to play their vinyl, and they will tell you that the sound from an LP is just not the same as a CD. And they're right.

But do you know what I'm about to say?

I was listening to records before it was cool.

But also after it was cool. 2002 was a no-man's time for vinyl, but I desperately wanted it. I wanted to listen to Simon and Garfunkel in the way that they were meant to be listened to, and that meant getting a record player.

My mom had a bunch of old records in our basement, and it was there that I discovered an original copy of Bridge Over Troubled Water. This was Simon and Garfunkel's final - and best-selling - album. It won a ton of Grammys, and the title track stayed at #1 for ages. This was even the best selling album of all time... until a little album called Thriller overturned it in 1982.

I HAD to hear this album on vinyl.

I did indeed get my record player for Christmas, and Bridge Over Troubled Water sounded absolutely glorious. I would hole myself up in my room, listening to it over and over. I began hunting for the rest of Simon and Garfunkel's albums on vinyl - haunting secondhand stores and sifting carefully through their holdings. This was not before the internet, but it was before online shopping was as easy and safe as it is today. Besides, I didn't even have a checking account, let alone a credit card. Buying online was out of the question.

But I was fine with it. The thrill of the case made finally locating the album so much sweeter. Once I had completed my Simon and Garfunkel collection, I gathered quite an amalgamation of music. From My Fair Lady to Wayne Newton, I had a strange catalog. But I loved it.

I listened to my records nearly nonstop until I went to college. My record player and record collection would take up too much space in my dorm room, so they stayed behind.

Regretfully, it took me ten years to make room for my record player again.

My living situations after college were undoubtedly temporary. I moved from Morris to Denver to New Orleans to Minneapolis to Sioux Falls, all in small rooms or apartments (or storage sheds in someone's backyard): no place for a record player. James and I bought our house in Luverne two years ago, and still, my record player wasn't there. However, it was in use: James took my record player to school with him to use in his music class.

Alas, that was to end in tragedy. James had the record player propped open with its little metal arm, and one of his students closed it without unhooking that arm. The arm broke, and the record player's lid would no longer stay open. Fixing the arm went on the backburner, but James did finally fix it a couple of months ago. Elated, I brought my old records back from my parents' house, and they sound just as beautiful and sonorous as they did when I first played them thirteen years ago.

And the best part is? Now that buying vinyl is cool, you can get nearly EVERYTHING on LP - even albums that were released long after the golden days of vinyl. I bought two Mumford and Sons albums on vinyl, and the sound you get from them is worlds above the CD.

Thanks to Amazon, finding records is as easy as freaking pie. No more do I have to make my way to record stores and dig hopefully through rows and rows of LPs. Not to say that I don't enjoy that: I do. But when there's an album that I so desire that I need it RIGHT NOW otherwise I MAY DIE, I can Amazon Prime it and have it in two days.

Another unexpected benefit of my record player? I can use records as a payment system. I have a list of records about a mile long that I want, but I really shouldn't be spending all my money on vinyl. James and I usually trade off buying household stuff - he buys hardware, I buy groceries, etc. Recently, we bought a new vacuum. I paid for the whole thing, and James bought me records to even it out. Probably not your typical marital financial arrangement, but it works for us. (In case you're curious, he bought me The Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack, Modest Mouse's Good News For People Who Love Bad News, and Abbey Road. AWESOME.)

I'm telling you: if you get the chance to pick up a record player, DO IT. No matter what you like to listen to, you can find it on LP. And you won't be sorry that you did.

the newest addition to my record collection. SO GOOD.

(Also, you get to be cooler than everyone else and say hipster-y things like "the album sounds SO MUCH BETTER on vinyl. And you know what? 99% of the time, it does.) 

the label maker: a Christmas story.

Everyone remembers their first Christmas with their significant other. Good or bad, we all remember.

Christmas 2005 was the first Christmas season I spent with James. If you've been paying attention, you'll notice that this was two whole Christmases before we started dating. Indeed: James and I became fast friends when we met on move-in day at UMM in August 2005, and we liked each other well enough that, for Christmas that year, we bought each other twelve-packs of Mountain Dew. (Mountain Dew is totally trashy, I know, but we were teenagers and bonded over our love of it.)

James and I had a blast together during the 2005 Christmas season. We had been recruited as swing dancers for a UMM/Morris community Christmas variety show, so we dressed in our fancy clothes and danced to big band music onstage. 

The following week was finals week, and James and I both had late finals. Almost everyone else had already vacated the dorms, so James and I were two of the few souls left on campus. Instead of wallowing in our dorm rooms, we ate at Don's Café and went bowling.

That was our first Christmas together.

Christmas 2007 was James's and my first Christmas as a couple. We had begun dating in July, but since we had known each other for more than two years, we had gotten the getting-to-know-you-to-figure-out-what-you-might-like-for-Christmas awkwardness out of the way ages ago.

We were broke-ass college kids, so our gifts were sure to be humble. I don't actually remember what I bought for James, but I scoured the Alexandria Target for something completely wonderful within my price range. I can tell you that I paid careful attention to pretty much everything he said he liked, even if it was in passing - and my Christmas gift to him was mostly comprised of a bag full of small James-approved things that I had filed away over the years. There was a small set of Legos, and a box of Queen Anne cordial cherries. I'm reasonably certain that was the year I bought him a trumpet-shaped pencil sharpener, but don't hold me to that. In any case, the gift was an amalgamation of things like that.

James got me a label maker.

You may be envisioning one of those slick digital label makers with the full keypad that uses thermal ink to print your labels. Not so: this was an old-fashioned label maker, complete with the lettered dial and the hand-punch.

I was a tad speechless.

It had never occurred to me to ask for office supplies for Christmas, nor did I think I would open up a gift to find office supplies waiting inside. When I saw my new label maker, I glanced up to see James looking absolutely pleased with himself. I quickly realized that he must have put a lot of thought into this label maker - he wouldn't have chosen something like that arbitrarily. So I used it to make old-timey labels for my college notebooks, and I used it to embellish the (one and only) scrapbook I (have ever) made - the scrapbook was a gift to James for our first anniversary in July 2008, and he was utterly delighted to see that I had used his label maker.

It wasn't until years later that James found out that the label maker wasn't the perfect gift he had thought it to be. While recounting the story of this first Christmas gift to James's and my families over last year's Thanksgiving dinner, James explained: "I couldn't afford anything nice, and when I saw the label maker, I thought, 'Well, Calla likes words!'"

It's worth noting that this has become one of my absolute favorite Christmas stories, and James has since become a truly excellent gift-giver. And in his defense re: label maker, it really is the thought that counts. And he was right: I do like words.

top ten Tuesday: quote of the day, part III.

At last, we have arrived at the third and final installment of the top ten quotes of the day. Indeed, all good things must end, and my senior year of high school marked the last of the quotes. And you know what? I think I went out on a high note - this set of quotes is my favorite yet. 

PART III: SENIOR YEAR 

2004 – 2005

what you need to know
My sophomore and junior years are coated with the unmistakable earmark of a grumpy teenager. Things improved drastically from my sophomore year to my junior year, and the light was most definitely shining through the clouds during my senior year. My sarcasm had definitely not vanished (and still hasn't to this day), but I was an all-around happier person. And why not? I had plenty to be happy about: I had great friends, I actually enjoyed spending time with my family, and sweet sweet college was right around the corner. Life was good. Also, during my senior year, I took advanced biology: the single best (and most hilarious) class of my high school career.

the "school memories" page

You'll notice that the sarcasm on this page is still present, but much less so than
in previous years. It's mixed in with actual notes about my achievements rather
than 100% snarky comments. The tides are turning.

the assignment book

Still cheesy, I see.

the quote
 
the explanation
We're starting off strong with a quote from our advanced biology textbook - which we rarely used. Most of our reading material came from photocopied handouts our teacher had used at other schools, or perhaps an article from The Readers Digest. ("I Am Joe's Man Gland" comes immediately to mind.) This hiccup quote struck me as funny because - come on - you're the science book. Even if you don't know the function of hiccups, you're not supposed to TELL us that you don't know.

the quote

the explanation
Remember my great friends? They are hilarious. Sarah has always had a way of putting into words exactly what all of us were feeling - and even things we didn't know we were feeling. Why, yes, I WAS a little torked when I flipped on the TV only to find that Ghostwriter was no more. Thanks for helping me get in touch with my long-repressed childhood feelings, Sarah.


the quote

the explanation
My sister Darrah has become famous for making bold and confident statements and then meekly asking for confirmation. We were talking about something we had overheard on a band bus trip to Chicago the previous year: someone had claimed (seriously) that marshmallows grow on trees, and my parents and I were mocking that statement. Darrah - who would've been about 14 at the time - was quick to agree with us... but backpedal just in case. She does this to this day, and we love her for it.

the quote

the explanation
Let's take a second for honesty here: no high school band kid enjoys playing pep band. You'd rather be watching the game with your friends, or (in my case) not be at the game at all. Now that I've been married to a band director for a few years, I realize that it's not just the students who wish that pep band didn't exist. It's a necessary evil, and it's the band director's job to make it seem like the best thing ever. "Celebration" was the bane of my pep band existence, and it's one of the few pep band tunes that my high school band could play so that it was vaguely recognizable. Hence: we played it ALL THE TIME. Mr Groon was our director, and whenever he announced that "Celebration" was up next, he was met with wailing and gnashing of teeth. He tried to sell it as a great song (see: above quote), but no one bought it. To this day, hearing "Celebration" on the radio makes me cringe.

the quote

the explanation
Mr Stoller was our advanced biology teacher, and he was the single best part of all of our days. He was absolutely hilarious without even trying. Mr Stoller's quotes made up at least 30% of my assignment book that year, and I had to restrain myself from filling this entire blog post with Mr Stoller's quips. He was much more than a quotable biology teacher: on Fridays, he would wear overalls and play us songs on his guitar. Mr Stoller was a delight. And he is the reason that I know where the xiphoid process is to this day.

the quote

the explanation
Mr Stoller strikes again. A typical week of advanced biology went like this: Monday and Tuesday = new material, Wednesday and Thursday = review, Friday = test. We covered a lot of ground, and it's not all that surprising that some if it didn't stick quite as well as it should. Quickly memorize and move on was the way to survive. On those review days, Mr Stoller would usually have us break into groups and review terms (read: totally screw around with only the occasional glance at our study guides). Every so often, he would ask us biology questions... which were apparently met with dead silence.

the quote

the explanation
I'd like to think a Bjorklund sitcom wouldn't suck, but I would watch it, too - even if it did indeed suck.

the quote
the explanation
We encountered said bossy geese on a government class trip to Pierre. I have almost no recollection of this trip, but I do know that the state capital is covered in goose poop. There are tons of geese roaming the grounds, and you couldn't walk on the sidewalk (or the grass) without stepping in poop. We had gotten some bread somewhere, and we were feeding the geese. One got bossy, so Sarah put him in his place. No bread for bossy geese: let that be a lesson to you.

the quote


the explanation
My mom works in the animal science department at SDSU, and I saw this advertisement one day when I went to visit her. It was an ad for lamb, and the implication is, of course, that adding lamb to your regular old kabob will turn it into a sophisticated karobert. I thought it was hilarious. To this day, no matter how many people I have told about this, I am STILL the only one who thinks it's hilarious.

the quote

the explanation
You many notice that this final quote is the only one in the entire series written in blue - and in slightly more legible handwriting. This is the very last quote of the day, and I read it on graduation day. I was the class salutatorian, so it was my job to give one of the speeches. By the end of high school, I had been doing quotes of the day for three entire years. It was my thing. My classmates all knew it was something I did, and I thought it would be appropriate to include one last quote of the day. I found this quote about commencement speeches, and I believe it is spot on. Out with a bang.

---------------------

My friends, we have come to the end of the quotes of the day. Three years, thirty quotes. I had so much fun going back through my old assignment books and picking these out. Doing this reinforced what we knew all along: I was a super weird kid. But thank God I was: what kind of stories would I have if I'd been normal?

rant: Sioux Falls Walmarts.

There aren’t a lot of things that make me angry. There are plenty of things that irritate me – mosquitos, vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup passing itself off as chocolate ice cream, improper grammar – but not much to make me truly angry.

Do you want to know what one of those things is?

The Sioux Falls Walmarts.

You may recall from a post long past that my friends and I spent a lot of time in the Brookings Walmart and had a great time doing so. There was nothing angering at all about the Brookings Walmart.

The Sioux Falls Walmarts are totally different animals.

(DISCLAIMER: I am referring only to the east and west side Walmarts. I have not yet ventured to the relatively-new north side Walmart, nor do I have any plans to do so. It can't be much better than its east and west side siblings.)

A lot of it has something to do with the fact that Sioux Falls is a much larger town than Brookings, so their Walmarts will surely be more crowded. However, I shouldn’t have to worry about getting flattened by shopping carts when I set foot Walmart. In Sioux Falls, that’s a very real concern. Or scooters. The people driving those scooters are vicious.

Seriously, those Walmarts are always crowded, all the time. But they’re not crowded with nice, friendly people who won’t mow you down with their shopping cart loaded with Shasta and beef jerky. The Sioux Falls Walmarts are packed full of people just as angry as I am (probably because they’re at Walmart) and ten times as pushy.

In the Sioux Falls Walmarts, screaming children run free and it’s every man for himself. People abandon overflowing carts in the middle of aisles, and they’re inevitably piled high with perishables like ground beef and eggs. These Walmarts are always coated in a fine layer of something sticky, and you couldn’t pay me to use the bathrooms there.

Oh, and the parking lot! It is always completely full, and the lanes are clogged with THOSE people: you know, the ones who want the closest possible parking and will sit there and block traffic and wait for the car to back out – even if the person has JUST started to unload the contents of their cart into their trunk. And even if you try to skip this whole mess and park way out in the boonies, you will find a whole other pile of terribleness out there. That’s where the gigantic pickups park diagonally and take up three parking spaces, and that’s where people send shopping carts out to parking lot pasture EVEN THOUGH the cart corral is RIGHT THERE.

Why do I go there if I hate it so much? The short answer: I don’t any more. For a time, I would make an exception for yogurt. Yes, yogurt. Walmart was the only place that carried my favorite yogurt (Oikos Greek Yogurt – the honey variety. mmm), so when I ventured forth into that dark place, it was only for yogurt. However, Walmart no longer carries Oikos honey yogurt. That was the end for me.

For everything else, it’s HyVee and Target. When I first moved to Sioux Falls, I couldn’t afford anything but Walmart groceries, so it was that or nothing. As I’ve moved up in the world, I still love a good deal, but here’s where you make a choice of cost versus value. And to me, it’s worth it to pay a few (or more than a few) extra cents at Target or Hy-Vee if it means I can avoid Walmart altogether.

My hatred of Sioux Falls Walmart is beginning to cloud my vision of other Walmarts. We stopped at the Brookings Walmart not too long ago, and I was dreading it before we even entered the parking lot. However, I stepped inside to see the clean, cheerful Walmart of my youth. The Brookings Walmart is friendly and you don’t stick to the floors, and people don’t scowl at you if you make eye contact with them in the aisles. I’ll try not to judge other Walmarts by the Sioux Falls Walmart standard, but at the end of the day, I’d still rather go to Target.

Did I tell you about the time I found a used condom in the parking lot?

I have been to Hell, and it is a Sioux Falls Walmart.

top ten Tuesday: quote of the day, part II.

Welcome to part II of my top ten quotes-of-the-day! In this installment, we'll cover my junior year of high school: 2003 - 2004. 

As you may recall, I began writing a quote-of-the-day during my sophomore year. Each school day was assigned a quote, and my friends and I got a great deal of enjoyment out of said quotes. I have to say, I'm getting an even greater deal of enjoyment going back and re-reading these quotes.

PART I: JUNIOR YEAR

2003 – 2004

what you need to know
While junior year found me not quite as pessimistic and angsty as sophomore year, I was still not quite convinced that high school was supposed to be the best years of my life. But things were changing for the better: I got contacts and a (slightly) less weird wardrobe, and I was looking at colleges - which gave me a better perspective on life outside of high school. I was still unapologetically weird, and that would most certainly carry over into my senior year of high school. And - let's face it - the rest of my life.

the "school memories" page

So much sarcasm. So little time.

the assignment book

Here is the cheesy inspirational holographic cover in its original form.

the quote

the explanation

I have learned SO MUCH from the Clelland family over the years. Most of it I can't tell you, due to the rules of the Lake Poinsett cabin: what happens at the cabin stays at the cabin. This quote from Don did not originate at the cabin - if it had, I wouldn't have even written it down. I take cabin rules very seriously. In any case, this is one of the few Clelland-isms that I can pass on: life is short, so you might as well be a dictator.

the quote

the explanation
Remember how Mr Kones had a pithy response for everything? His reign continued into my junior year, when he was our algebra II teacher. That was the year that our school was condemned, and we spent the 2003 - 2004 school year learning out of government trailers. Even though algebra and I have never been close friends, Mr Kones's math class was a highlight of our days. He always had something quote-worthy to say. 

the quote

the explanation
When we moved into our house in 2000, my aunt gave us a housewarming gift: a beta fish named Willie. He came in a glass jar topped with a plant, and legend had it that he would just eat the plant's algae and be fine and dandy. (It turned out that we should've been feeding him... but we didn't realize it until TWO YEARS into his life. Clearly, he made it through.) Willie lived to the ripe old age of three, which is pretty stunning - especially considering that most of the preceding Bjorklund pet fish didn't make it to the one-week mark. When Willie did finally go to the big fishbowl in the sky, my mother gave him this touching eulogy before his burial at sea. What a way with words.

the quote

the explanation
Once upon a time on the farm, my dad brought home a new combine. It was red (what other color is there?), and its model number was 1666. Natural conclusion? It should be named Lucifer or Beezlebub. I don't think we ever did settle on a name for this combine, but if we had, I'm sure Sweetie won out. A missed opportunity, let me tell you.

the quote

the explanation
In my humble opinion, the Chris Farley years on Saturday Night Live were some of the best. And I loved El Nino. (Especially this winter: everyone is talking about El Nino, and all I can think of is Chris Farley.)

Ok, yes, I screwed up the quote. But considering I had little to no internet access and could only watch old SNL episodes via VHS-recorded TV Land reruns, I think I made do. 

the quote

the explanation
Honestly, I have no real explanation for this quote. Just say it out loud in your best Arnold Schwarzenegger voice, and you'll find it hilarious. 

the quote

the explanation
My dear friend Bob (his name really is Bob) is oftentimes met with disbelief when he tells people that his name is Bob. This was especially true in high school, as there just weren't that many teenage Bobs running around. Hence: his introductory disclaimer.

the quote

the explanation
Some of my quotes have context (see: Sweetie the Combine), and some do not. I really wish this one did - I find the stand-alone quote to be spectacular, but it would be even better if I knew what triggered this. Knowing my family, it could be just about anything.

the quote

the explanation
Again, no context. This is the fourth quote involving my parents, and there are many more sprinkled throughout my junior year assignment book. I'd say that they give you a fairly accurate insight into life at my house - and nothing has changed. We are irreverent and sarcastic and call each other slime weasels, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

the quote

the explanation
Wise words from John Hughes. Putting a quote about high school in my high school handbook was very meta of my teenage self. My affection for John Hughes has not lessened over the years - nay, the older I get, the more I appreciate him. As a matter of fact, I was just asked to fill out a "getting to know you" questionnaire for work, and one of the questions asked about my favorite movie quote. My answer? Courtesy of Ferris Bueller: "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it." Carpe diem, indeed.

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That concludes my top ten junior year quotes. Stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion of the series: senior year!

five for Friday: my favorite trends.

I’ve been writing about clothes and doing the cheap outfit posts long enough for you to know that I’m generally a late adopter when it comes to trends. I didn’t get my first pair of flare jeans  (remember when they were still called "flare jeans"?) until junior high: at least two years after my classmates had given up their tapered jeans. I didn’t own skinny jeans until I was a senior in college, and I only bought them to tuck into my new riding boots: two trends that everyone else had managed to embrace before me. It took an awfully long time for me to warm up to the idea of a maxi dress – as I didn’t want to be mistaken for a sister wife – but eventually, I came around.

The thing about trends is that they come and go so fast. Personally, I’m not willing to invest my hard-earned clothing money on a fad that I’m not sure about. I like to be sure that the particular clothing trend is not going anywhere before I accept it into my closet. And those trends I took so long to accept? They’re still fashionable today. (Flare jeans have morphed into bootcut jeans, but I’m counting them all the same.)

However, every once in a while, I’m either ahead of or right on top of the curve. When this happens – albeit rarely – it’s usually for something that I’ve loved all along. The rest of the world just had to catch up to me.

Inexplicably, there are currently five trends that I am all for. I hopped on three of these trends right away, and I was sporting the other two long before it was the thing to do.

I’ll start with the three that I got into immediately. These three trends are utilitarian, and that’s why I love them so much. Most of the time, you are forced to choose between fashion and function. For these three delightful fashions, they go hand-in-hand.

blanket cardigans/scarves – warmth

When I refer to a blanket cardigan or a blanket scarf, I’m talking about a gigantic fuzzy drapey thing that keeps you incredibly warm. As we are entering yet ANOTHER winter, it’s very important that you have enough sweaters and scarves to keep from freezing to death. Blanket cardigans are gigantic and have tons of extra material, so you can cocoon yourself into a cozy ball of warmth. The blanket scarves tend to be used as a decorative accessory, but in a pinch, you can take it off and use it as a – you guys it – blanket.

fancy sweatshirts – comfort

When you think of comfortable clothing, what is one of the first things that comes to mind? If you ask me, it’s a sweatshirt. Unfortunately for me, sweatshirts are not work appropriate… until now! Sweatshirt choices are no longer limited to the kind with sports teams and hoods. There are such a thing as embellished sweatshirts – they have patterns and embellishments and are pretty snappy. They’re dressy enough to wear on casual Friday, but comfy enough so that you still feel like you’re wearing a sweatshirt. It’s a win-win.

giant glasses – better vision

I have had glasses since I was five, and believe me when I tell you that having the vision of a bat in the daytime is not easy. My first pair of glasses was an enormous set of frames that took up half my face, but you’d better believe that I could see everything around me. As I got older, the trendy glasses got smaller. That meant that in order to look cool (or as cool as I could with thick glasses and colorful braces), I had to sacrifice some valuable lens real estate. I did get contacts when I was a junior in high school, and those helped immensely. But as you fellow contact-wearers will know, sometimes, you just really want to wear glasses. Thankfully, my salvation was imminent. Gigantic hipster glasses suddenly became cool, which meant that I could go back to having more lens to cover more of my eye, therefore giving me better peripheral vision. I am well aware that this trend won’t last forever and that my future children will someday laugh at pictures of my huge hipster glasses like we laugh at Mom’s glasses from the 80s. But I’m willing to take the risk.

The last two trends on the agenda today are two that I’d been seeking all along. And one day, BAM! They’re everywhere. Allow me to be a hipster for a second and tell you that I liked fair isle and dresses with pockets before they were cool.

dresses and skirts with pockets

This just seemed like common sense to me. Pants have pockets for you to keep your Chapstick in – why wouldn’t dresses and skirts want to do the same? I didn’t really wear dresses until college, and when I started hunting for dresses with pockets, I came up short. I would find a pocketed dress one once in a very great while, but it was a rare treasure. But just few years ago, it seemed like every dress in every store was be-pocketed. And that was a great day for me and other dress-wearing pocket-appreciating people everywhere. Now, when shopping for dresses and skirts, that’s the first thing that I look for. Does it have pockets? No? Then back it goes.

fair isle

As a Scandinavian, it’s in my DNA to be attracted to fair isle. I wanted an authentic Norwegian sweater so badly, but they always were (and still are) way out of my price range. My grandma Lorraine gave my siblings and me some of her old Norwegian sweaters, which were goofy – to say the least. Goofy enough to warrant a Christmas card. What I wanted was some respectable fair isle that I could wear without looking like I’d raided Goodwill. For the longest time, the best I could do was socks. But then – fair isle was all over the place. Sweaters, scarves, hats, mittens, you name it. I’m up to my eyeballs in fair isle, and I LOVE IT.

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So those are my five trends. Chances are pretty slim that I’ll be an early adopter of  this many trends ever again, but I’ll be sure and keep you informed.