loling.

There are times when events happen in your life and you have no choice but to laugh. You laugh because if you don't you very well might break down into tears and mess up your makeup which took an unnaturally  long time to do because for some reason you forgot how to use a mascara brush and stabbed your eyeball 4 times while getting ready this morning. Can you all relate to this or are you too busy picturing me weeping black tears out of one eye that's redder than my face after I try to run? Oh, you weren't? But now you are?

Good.

Ok fine. Here's what it looks like. The following was taken almost a year ago when I took a scooter ride up the canyon and a mosquito flew into my eye, blinding me for the rest of the evening. Yes, it felt almost as bad as spearing your ocular organs with a tool of torture meant to make you attractive to the opposite gender.

#nofilter #rosecoloredeyeballs 

DO YOU FIND ME ATTRACTIVE NOW!? DO YOU!?

don't answer that.

Anyway, being a student, or just a human being in general really, there are plenty of times when my body has said to me, "Rachel, you either need to start sobbing or laughing hysterically. Right now. Because I just don't know how else to react in this moment." For the last long bit of my life I have chosen to laugh, because like, pinterest told me to at one point or something. Plus I mean, can you say ab workout!? go girl. go go gadget. go go superpower rangers. 
for the record: i have no abs in the plural sense. i have one. one ab. which is the result of my addiction to eating cheese tortillas at midnight. but i'm going to stop talking about this because why did i even start talking about this? 

So let's start with what I've already mentioned. You just have to laugh when you poke your eye with a mascara brush upwards of 9 times and try to desperately salvage your appearance for 14 minutes but then just realize that you and your eyelashes do, in fact, look like Yzma from Emperor's New Groove. And you're going to rock that look like there's no other purpose in your life.

*scroll up to previous picture*

The resemblance is uncanny.

Next, you just have to laugh when you finally realize you have never been more confused in your entire life about absolutely everything in your entire life. Future? No idea! Present? Barely making it! Past? I don't even remember what I ate for breakfast this morning! false. it was a poppy seed muffin from costco and was delicious. yay for opium. 
false again. i don't do drugs. back to the point?
I HAVE NO IDEA ABOUT ANYTHING IN MY LIFE EXCEPT FOR THAT I LIKE TO BRUSH MY HAIR. So maybe I was about to have a slight breakdown in the kitchen last night with all my roommates sympathetically hugging me and rubbing my back and generally just being spectacular people when one of them chimed in with a "Hey, at least your butt looks great."

The breakdown was immediately concluded and all worries forgotten as I collapsed onto the floor in laughter at the utterly perfect timing of her comment. It was perfect.


And last, getting your take home midterm back and seeing your score. You just have to laugh.


So in conclusion you now know much more about my physique than you ever cared to know. Let's be friends? Also, I cannot say, think, or type the word "physique" without thinking of "Mystique." You know, the woman who was naked and blue before Avatar made it cool? And when I think of Mystique I think of Jennifer Lawrence and then I smile because I like her and she's dating the man I'm in love with...which actually doesn't make me smile at all. But I guess it wasn't ever going to work out with me and Nicholas anyway, right?

Those eyes. THOSE EYES!

And now that I've unashamedly participated in "man crush Monday" I cease my pointless rambling and bid you farewell for another fortnight.

peace and eloquence.
i like to pretend i have it despite the contents of this and all other posts.

rrw

a ukrainian proposal

As I have already said dozens of times and in a variety of different ways, living in Ukraine is an adventure. Which I absolutely love. I mean, I may or may not have eaten a granola bar made of bull's blood today. (and when I say "may or may not have" I mean "most definitely did.") Did I know it was made of bull's blood before I ate it? No! But that's part of the adventure! And now my hemoglobin levels are just skyrocketing. I can feel it.

My adventures range anywhere from trying food, teaching 3 year old Ukrainians, going to the grocery store, trying to get off the metro, trying to get on the metro, being yelled at on marshrutkas, attempting to leave the flat while not wearing tights (my host mom dies a little inside every time my bare leg shows), and being pursued by men.

Yes indeed. That last little category of adventures has probably been the most adventurous of them all. (ok, minus our 3 hour stint on the Ukraine/Hungary border during the middle of the night in which I accepted the possibility that I might not ever see another sunrise) I haven't really talked about this part of my experience much because I mean, why would I? Sure, maybe it's given me some reassurance. Now I know that if I never find a guy in Provo, there's always a drunk Bulgarian that would be happy to take care of me. Am I right? (please. tell me I'm not right.)

Most of them just talked with me briefly, invited me to one thing or another, and then were gone from my life. Others have been more persistent, asking to hold my hand, take pictures with me, or adding me on facebook when I panicked under pressure and couldn't think of a way to avoid telling them my name. (Plus I'm just a terrible liar and the only name I could think of in the moment, other than my own, was Penelope Clearwater)

Yes. It's been an adventure. And I haven't shared because I didn't want anyone to worry unnecessarily. hi grandma. Please know that I am absolutely, perfectly safe. I ate a granola bar made of bull's blood remember? I'm untouchable.

But when I got the following in my facebook messages, I knew it was time to share.

"Hello, I want to be very open, I am looking to start a permanent relationship with you without any kind of limits. I am aware that you may have to many options, but this time it's my turn if you reject me it would be a lost in this life for a couple to find eternal happiness so I will wait for you to respond and invite me to get to know each other and later the one and only for life and yes I am proposing you to get married if you and I are honest, straight romantic and clear about your life goals."

So who knows? This girl might come home with more than a nesting doll and some chocolate for her souvenir.

peace and proposals

rrw

my lip

On Friday I had a nasty accident. While again trying my hand at trail running in the canyon I live close to, I stumbled and tripped over a root or rock or freaking squirrel chilling on the trail. I don't really know what it was, but instead of my body propelling forward, it was taken by gravity and I dropped to the earth, hitting my face on a nearby rock and completely splitting my lip open.

I was in shock, clutching my face and looking for anything to stop the blood. Eventually I gave up on that, took my shirt off, stuffed it to my face, and started staggering back toward the trail head and waiting car, trying not to think about the blood flowing from my body.

I made it to the car (where were all the people around to help me? i have no idea) picked up my phone and called my mom for help, kind of mumbling and crying and yelling while stuffing the shirt as tightly as possible against my face. Fortunately she got the idea and a quick 10 minutes later we were on our way to the emergency room.

A few stitches later I walked out with fat lip and some sticky gauze all up in my business. I'm not supposed to smile, talk, laugh, chew, or in anyway use facial expressions in communication. My mom suggested I use makeup to blend the bandages in with my face, to which I responded that I was actually thinking of treating it like a cast and having my friends sign it. So...any takers? You want to sign my lip?

^^^that's the closest I could get to a smile. It's beautiful. I know. Especially that fat lip of mine. #mmmm
And oh my gosh do you think my face is big enough in this thing? Yeah, me either.


In other news, all of this is a lie. I just like this story better than the real one, in which I go to the plastic surgeon to have a mole removed and walk out 25 minutes later like it's no big deal.

Maybe next time I tell the story I'll have just been in a fight with a stampeding moose or hit with a taser gun as I protected a baby during a bank robbery. Any other suggestions?

peace and plastic surgery
rrw

grandpa? what big teeth you have...

Yesterday I was sitting at work when my phone began to ring. I had an incoming call from an unknown number and because I'm always more curious than worried about that type of stuff, I answered. The following conversation happened.


"Hello?"

"...hi. Is this K...."
(it was muffled so I couldn't hear, but it sounded like Caroline)

"Oh, no, this is her sister, Rachel."

"Oh, Rachel! How's it going? I must have dialed your home number on accident."

"Um, no, this is my cell phone. Ha..."
(I'm uneasy at this point because this person obviously knows me and I have no idea who it is)
oh, and you're welcome for the commentary. continuing on...

(A conversation in which I attempt to explain what is happening even though I have no idea what is happening follows. What stranger knows about me and my sister?! I decided to find out.)

"Um, I'm really sorry but who is this?"

"Oh, Rachel, it's grandpa!"

"...Oh my gosh! Grandpa! I'm so sorry, my speaker must be messed up because your voice sounds so different. Are you feeling ok? Do you have a cold or anything?"

"No, I'm ok. That's interesting though. Well, I'm trying to get ahold of your dad. But obviously have the wrong number. Where can I reach him?"

(I proceed to give him my dad's cell phone number, bantering as only grandfathers and granddaughters do)

"When did all of this change? This is a completely different number than I have for him."

"I don't know what you mean. This is what it's always been grandpa. Maybe you're looking at Uncle Mike's number or something?"

"Mike? Wait...how old are you?"

"Grandpa...hahaha I'm 21! You should know that. Come on grandpa."

(silence)

"Is this the Richardson residence?"

"Um....no...." 
(finally starting to realize something's wrong)

"Oh my goodness. I'm not your grandpa."

"Oh."

The conversation awkwardly ended with me almost saying "love you," because in my head I was still talking to my grandpa. After barely avoiding that and wishing each other a happy life full of pinatas, fairy dust, and everything happy, I hung up and proceeded to collapse against the filing cabinet, laughing so hard I couldn't stay upright.

THE END.


peace and pertussis symptoms
curse you immunizations. i am obviously not immune to you.

rrw


And since it's Tuesday, the worst day of the week in my opinion, let's listen to some music.