What Happens to Jenna on No Sleep.

Thursday night was absolutely brutal for me. I was so tired. And so I climbed into bed around 10:30pm -- a very early bedtime for most college students. I curled up in my blankets. And then waited for sleep to come. But it didn't. Why? I haven't the faintest clue. Well, I had sore legs, an achy back, and a dull headache. However, that usually indicates exhaustion, and that usually just makes me fall asleep all the faster. But no, I was awake. It's not like I was even thinking about anything especially worrying. But, leave me in a dark, silent, and sleepless room long enough, and I do start thinking.

I started thinking about life. And then I started examining myself. I started wondering about how judgmental I am. I don't think I'm judgmental. But then again, I actually trust my first impressions of people. Probably more than is healthy. Or maybe it is healthy. I mean, it's not like I'm wrong about the people. I met Ingrid for two minutes, and I had figured out that she was going to be a private person and that she'd probably spend more time with familiar friends than her not so familiar roommates. I was right about her. And then waaay back when I met the people in the 68th ward. I didn't really think anything different about them, except for being fonder of them. Gaah. This train of thought was leading to a beat-up-self session. I quickly decided to try and get to know people before I decided what sort of people they were, and then I cleared my head again in an attempt to fall asleep.

Then I wasn't really thinking about anything. Occasionally, the random thought that my-left-leg-is-throbbing

-annoyingly or that perhaps-I-could-be-more-comfortable-if-I-moved-there would pass through my head. I sort of drifted into a semi-sleep. I dreamt a little bit about Rachel and squirrel talk, but it wasn't long enough to get interesting because I woke up again. And then I was wide awake. And now I really hurt. I guess at some point during this semi-sleep Jackie had come in. She was asleep, but I could hear her tossing and turning in her sleep.

And then I started thinking again. I don't really like thinking so much. But I think about everything, and over-think most of that. I starting thinking about chemistry class. And then I thought... Hm. Tomorrow there's going to be a pop quiz. Then I chuckled to myself. The point of pop quizzes is that the student won't ever know when they are. And there was no reason to think there was going to be one. But then I remembered that I had successfully predicted the last few. I just laughed at myself then, telling myself that there probably wouldn't be a quiz.

Then I drifted into that strange semi-sleep again. This time the dream was a little more complicated. And I'm going to tell you about it, because I never remember dreams. Never. So I'm quite excited to have a dream to remember and tell about. Even if it is really strange.

I don't remember any of the details and dialogue, just things I saw and what I was feeling. It was a Sunday, but our usual meeting place for church was, for some reason, unavailable. And it was the 68th ward, I think. And I was sitting on the left side of the room in between Patrice and Clifton... and the ceilings were high, and vaulted, and there was stained glass everywhere.

But it was weird. You could hear next door that there was a different, very loud, very wild congregation. It was some sort of church, and instead of the reverent sacrament meeting sort of setting we were having, they were having some sort of party worship. Rachelle passed me a note, and she wanted to go see what was going on next door. I think Will had been speaking and I was tired of listening to him, and so we got up to go check it out.

We went in. The room was different, but I felt like I had walked into a dirty place. And what was going on was quite obviously scandalous, so Rachelle and I left quickly. We went back to our seats, and there was a different speaker (Jackie, I think) that we didn't mind so much listening to. And it was almost normal. Rachel was chattering in squirrel at Hillary, who was just shaking her head confusedly. And then Clifton put a note in my hand. Before I looked at the note, I remember wondering why Clifton would write me a note in sacrament meeting, especially when he was sitting right next to me.

I'm rather surprised with the detail that I remember the physical qualities of this note. It might as well have been real. I remember what it felt like, looked like... It was thin, and it looked like it had been torn out of the middle of a wide ruled notebook page. The top right corner had been torn so thinly that it had started to curl in on itself. It was about four inches wide and three inches tall. And, as I do when I'm awake, I recognized the handwriting on it immediately. It wasn't Clifton's. Clifton's was taller and skinnier, more angular, but still had curves and loops. This was Ryan's handwriting, seven whole lines of it. The top few lines of this note were written larger than the bottom few lines. I remember that the first word was my name in all caps. I was confused for a moment, until I remembered that Ryan was in the 68th ward too. I looked around to find him, and he was a few rows behind me to my right, and the girl he was sitting next to was talking to him. (Was no one in this dream paying attention to the speaker?) I looked back at the note, and I was just about to start reading past my name when --

Jackie made a loud noise in her sleep and I was suddenly awake. And then she started mumbling about something, which I presumed was differential equations, or something I hadn't studied yet. I was not very happy to have been woken up. I really wanted to know what my subconscious had put on that note. My conscious thought generated a few things that might have been on it. And those things made me stifle a laugh, lest I wake Jackie. But as to what the note in the dream said, I suppose that bit of information is lost forever. And that made a little sad.

So I thought about something else. I started thinking about the 68th ward, and that made me sad again. So I thought a little more, and tried to think uplifting thoughts. I made a little goal that I wanted to the sort of person that is always uplifting everyone. And I was trying to think about how I could do that, but I couldn't think in the slightest. Gaah, thought I. It would be really nice if I could sleep. It would be even better if it was a deep sleep and none of this horrible semi-sleep business I was having. I'd wake up after a little of that and feel even less rested than before.

Through the blinds I could see that the sun was starting to come up. I laid in bed staring at the ceiling, trudging through my scattered thoughts like a turtle wading in a field of peanut butter. My alarm went off at six. I shut it off before it had a chance to say much. But Jackie leapt up out of bed. "That was my alarm. Sorry," I said. Jackie said thanks and climbed back in bed.

I was awake, so I pulled my computer out from under my pillow and turned it on. I finished the extra credit assignment that was due in chemistry that day, which thankfully, took little actual brain power. Then Jackie's alarm went off a few times. She finally got up. I just kind of laid there. Do I want to get up? Dare I try and get some more sleep? Hm. Well, I was wide awake, and exhausted. And I'd been lying here for over nine hours, and had only gotten a measly four hours of sleep. That sucked. The odds of actually falling asleep were definitely not in my favor. So I got up. And I dejectedly walked downstairs.

Jackie looked at me from her perch on the couch. I don't remember what exactly she said, but it was something along the lines, of "Jenna, you look like death." Yeah, well, I feel like death. I grabbed my linear algebra book, some crackers, and some cheese. Then I sat on the couch and read that textbook, munching as I went. It was slow progress. I didn't need to read the book, but I hadn't quite grasped the concepts from yesterday's lecture. And it would be nice if I could do well in this class. So I trudged through it, my mind still behaving as a herd of turtles wading through a field of peanut butter. I did get through it, and I thought I understood it well enough, so I went back upstairs to my room.

Looking in the mirror, I discovered that I really did look like death. I sighed. I had some time to waste before class started. I could fix this. I got out my straightening iron and fixed my hair. Now that didn't look like death. I continued through my morning routine, paying extra special attention to everything, and eventually, I went back in front of the mirror and inspected myself. I didn't look like death. And if I had been smiling, I might have looked beautiful. So I tried to smile. But it was fake. So I just left it at that. In an attempt to make myself feel silly and thus evoke a twinge of a smile, I put on my pink snowflake pajama pants... and I feel a little better, but I didn't smile. Dang.

I went to chemistry, and half-slept through the first half of class. At any rate, I wasn't paying attention. But I woke up when I heard the word, "quiz." I blinked the sleep out of my eyes as my professor started handing out the pop quiz. Blearily, I remembered my late night prediction... no, it was more a declaration to myself, that there would be a quiz in chemistry today. That kind of disturbed me. I completed the quiz, and thankfully, since I'm a chemistry genius, the lack of sleep last night and the lack of attention during the lecture didn't really impact my performance. After class I was feeling really... empty. I did my linear algebra homework again, and this time I knew what I was doing since I had read the textbook this morning during breakfast.

At some point during all this, Michael showed up. "Hey! Do you know where the writing lab is?" I shook my head. And then Michael blinked. "Hey! I know you! How are you?"

I answered that I was okay. I mean, besides the no sleep thing, the day had gone rather... perfect. Michael left after discovering that I was doing linear algebra and declaring that I was nuts for taking it during the spring. And I continued in my homework. I went to class. And I tried to pay attention. But when I have no sleep, interesting things happen. Including horrible pain. I hurt soooo bad. My back was angrily stabbing the back of my head. So my headache got worse and worse and worse. And my head started feeling heavier and heavier and heavier. And I was fighting to urge to think about anything, because thinking in this condition inevitably leads to depression. After class, I walked over to the Benson building to do a quick chemistry lab. And I ran into Michael again.

He did that wink, point, and grin move when he saw me. I smiled weakly.

"Oh, you look so sad!" Well, I had been feeling sad and tired and generally not so good all day. But instead of telling him that, I told him, "Oh, I just didn't have the greatest rest last night, and I have a headache. So I'm going home to get an Advil, and then I'll be okay." And he didn't really say anything, so I kept walking. But then he sighed and said, "I don't have anything to do tonight." I sympathized, saying, "Me neither." I welcomed the thought of having nothing to do.

"You know it's Friday night, right?" Yes, of course I did. Every single female soul at BYU keeps Friday nights open for dates.

"Yeah."

Then he grinned. "Oh, don't worry, I'll figure out something for us to do. See ya later."

I laughed and he left. And continued on my journey to the chemistry lab, which I really would have enjoyed had it not been for my exhaustion. I mean, we burned stuff. I love burning stuff. That's the whole point of taking chemistry.

After that, I walked home. And finally my poor little brain made the belated connect. Wait a sec. Did Michael just ask me on a date? Hm. I had to think about this... perhaps. I think so. But he hadn't actually asked me anything. It was more like a declaration that we were going to do something tonight. Perhaps he was just being friendly? Or maybe not. I really didn't know. Jackie would know. Jackie always knows.

So I went home. And I walked in the door, and Jackie told me that I looked depressed. Dang it. Well, I collapsed on the couch, and curled up with my blanket and Teddy Grahams. I munched for a while, and then I said, "I think Michael asked me on a date."

Jackie was immediately animated. The thing about my roommates is, they get so excited when someone gets asked on a date, and it's instantly a big deal... whatever. "You have to tell me!"

I told. And Jackie decided that he had asked me on a date. Okay. So apparently, Michael was planning on doing something tonight. I should cheer myself up, but that seemed like an impossible task. But I had a box of Teddy Grahams. So I ate Teddy Grahams until I was happy. (Something about pulverizing little cinnamony teddies with your molars just evokes instant joy.)

A Bishop's Challenge.

Ward prayer every Sunday night is usually rather uneventful... It's kind of like family prayer (since none our of individual families live on campus) except... larger. But... this time the Bishop got up in front of us all and started to speak.

"Uhh... well, this announcement is for the brethren, and I was going to say something in Elder's Quorum earlier... and I'm sorry, but I forgot!" Bishop Madsen then proceeded to scratch his head a little... He put his hand in his pockets. "Have I issued a challenge before?"

In unison almost, the ward answered, "No."

He chuckled a little, "Oh, I've been too nice."

The guys kind of looked around at each other nervously.

"Well, I'm going to issue a challenge to the brethren of our ward: that you each go on at least one date a week until the end of the semester!"

Noise erupted in the tiny lobby in which all 180 of us were packed into. Of the guys whose faces I could see, about half looked delighted... the other half looked terrified. All the girls I could see were celebrating loudly (as was I). My FHE son, Alex, looked as if he had just turned to stone. This was not just terror... this was absolute panic. I was standing next to Ian. He had his face buried in his hands. "Oh, no. Oh, no no no... I'm going to be broke... I can't do this... I'm doomed to be poor..." "Ian! You don't have to make yourself poor to go on dates!" Ryan, who was a little bit ahead of me, turned around and laughed, "Shall we tell them about the Madsen Recital Hall?" (There are free musical recitals practically every night at 7:30 there). He looked fine, since he already goes on anywhere from one to three dates a week anyway.

It was then time to say prayer, and we collectively got down on our knees for it. When we all opened our eyes again, I could see that the majority of the guys around had just lost a family member, and all the girls looked like they had just won the lottery or something grand.

I'm not sure if I imagined it or not, but I could have sworn that one of the guys was on the verge of hyperventilating or something as I was leaving... Many guys begged us for ideas on the spot.

Come Monday morning, we awoke to find a note all taped up on our doors, saying something like the following... "We need fun and inexpensive date ideas... please write some on the back of this paper and deposit in the main Shipp fireplace..." This seemed incredibly funny to us, since the anonymous writer(s) obviously wanted to not be found out. However, while they had bothered to type the note, it seemed that as an afterthought it might be a good idea to label which girl's room this paper would be returning from... So, written in clumsy handwriting was our address, "126 Robison"... My roommates joked about comparing handwritings to find out whose it was. I joked with them, but kept my mouth shut... (Let's just say I knew whose it was... and I'm sure you can guess whose it was as well...)

Within ten minutes, we had typed up a two-column page in ten-point font of really random date ideas, including: mud football, blindfolded cake decorating with spatulas, finger-painting except with toes, nightcrawler hunting, making Wanted posters of each other, dollar theatre, board game night, gerbil bathing (yeah... what is up with that?), ghosting, three-legged basketball, pirate ship balcony commandeering (group date), Irish dancing, ice-cream sculpting, hide-and-go-seek, dancing in random department stores, bowling in formal dress, coloring books and ice cream, etc.

We then printed it out, stapled it to the ridiculously tiny piece of paper our mystery friends had provided for us, and inconspicuously delivered it to the men's fireplace. Strange spot for a drop-off.

Well, none of us have been asked on dates yet, but it's only Tuesday. However, we have positively identified at least a few of the culprits. This morning the University Chorale got to sing in devotional. Will, Ryan, Dallin, and I are all in this group... So... we all headed down
to the Marriott Center for devotional. Ryan and Will, being guys of small stature, ended up near the front. However, Dallin (of large stature) and I (quite tall in heels) ended up in the very last row... next to each other.

Before the devotional started, Dallin called his grandparents to tell them to watch the devotional on BYUTV, since they would be home when it was showing. He also added that his roommates and he had build a mini-golf course in their lobby last night for dates tonight, and needed an extra putter.

"A mini-golf course! That's amazing!"

Dallin nods.

"No, it really it is! See, you guys don't need help coming up with ideas!"

Dallin blinked at me. "What makes you think that was us?"

... What makes me think what was... "Wait... what?" Oh. Aha... "Oh, that. No, no, no... most of the guys I've talked to since Sunday have complained about not being able to think of date ideas..."

Dallin realized too late that hadn't been what I was trying to say.

We fell silent. Then... "Was that you?" It would be nice to know for sure it was them... since, after all, I had recognized Ryan's handwriting... and Dallin and Ryan were roomies. But it would be nice for the guys to feel like it actually had been a secret.

Dallin had the most horrified look on his face... like he had just accidentally betrayed top secret information to the enemy during a time of war. "Uhhh... Never mind... Just... never mind..."

And then we sang. But Dallin seemed rather uncomfortable for the next hour. I think the poor guy was trying to figure out how he was going to explain to his roommates how the secret had leaked out.

Could my life be any more... random?

I've got a lot of random things to tell you about... including a potato gun, a spaz trip to Salt Lake, the lack of hat-wearing to ward prayer, and the occurrence of chocolate cake.

Well... here's the thing. We poor college students are surrounded by snow. It's really cold. And there is a TON of snow. What would you do? Build a snowman? We did too! Make snowangels? We did too! Throw snowballs? We did to-- Oh. Wait. We DIDN'T. I know how much your jaw just dropped. I hear the wheels turning in your head... What? No snowball fights? None at all?

A note of explanation. It is currently against Provo city law to throw snowballs. It's against the honor code to do illegal things... and thus, no one throws snowballs for fear of getting kicked out of the university. It really is quite depressing.

I was going to go on a date with Ryan sometime this weekend... we were going to go bowling and get pizza. But... we forgot. You'll understand why (besides the fact that it's finals week) shortly.

Ryan and I were feeling that widespread depression resulting from the inability to throw snowballs acutely. Furthermore, somehow Ryan had gotten the idea that he didn't have a hobby (besides exploring the campus grounds) and he needed one. He wasn't taking any of my suggestions seriously (he didn't think he'd be too spectacular at sword fighting and he thought he was too poor to go skydiving for a hobby). Then he got desperate, and we started surfing the Net for random hobbies that poor Ryan could take up. He stumbled upon a video of some kid firing a... spudgun? Oh goodness. That's right! A potato-firing device of grand proportions.

The two of us watch the produce accelerator with rapture. We pretty much are thinking exactly the same thing at this point. He looks over at me, and says, "Jenna. We HAVE to build one of those." We start the initial plans for our weapon of mashed destruction immediately (at which point we both forget about the date). Since us poor college students have no power tools... we'll have to crash in North Salt Lake at his grandparent's house (more specifically the garage) which has everything we could possibly need. Hillary'll have to come with us, because she has a car, and at the end of day, us two girls can crash at her house... half a block away (how convenient). Ryan already figured out exactly where the nearest Home Depot is too. Pretty much... we are way too excited for our own good. The thing is, we can't tell too many people about this... because then EVERYONE would want in on it.

Well, the next morning I wake up to see Rachel and Hillary packing... Wait, WHAT? Why? Why are you leaving me? I put on my best sad face at their departure, when... "Hey, Jenna! You should come too!" Oh!

"Where are you going?" Well, they were going to their homes... so that they could go to a missionary farewell the following morning. Upon further inquiry, I discover that this almost-missionary is Ben. At one point about two months ago, Rachel and Hillary were moping about because their friend Ben from high school had promised to come over, and... he hadn't. And this was the third time this had happened. Furthermore, Hillary is pretty much head-over-heels in love with this mystery Ben. So. I steal Rachel's cell phone. Browse through the contact list. "Ben Poulsen?" Is this the Ben? They nod forlornly. Yes. That was him. Love-stricken Hillary even tells me that that is his home phone number, and exactly how you can get his mother to hand the phone to him. Oh, well. This is useful information.

I press the talk button, and put the phone to my ear. My roommates are looking at me like deer in headlights. "Are... are you actually calling him?"

"Yes. I have to scold him." I don't quite remember what Ben and I talked about for twenty minutes except that the gist of it was me threatening to send flaming squirrel assassins after him if he didn't get his butt down here to visit Rachel and Hillary soon.

Well, after all this, I figured I wasn't really a complete stranger and decided... okay! I'll go to Bountiful and go to Ben's farewell! This was completely on a whim. I bring books so that I can study. I don't. Mostly I eat and sleep and go to farewells. And listen to Christmas music and send Rachel crazy messages. At one point Rachel's dad came in with Nerf guns and attacked us. Then he let us keep the guns and ammunition as early Christmas presents. The two of us were thrilled, and immediately started plotting how we would torture dear Jackie when we got home. For dinner tonight, I had seven plate-sized blueberry pancakes. Why? Well, that was how many I was given. And... they were darn good. And... I wanted to see how many I could eat before I was too full to belch in approval.

We got back in time for ward prayer, but because Rachel's mother had sent home extremely-stuffed stockings full of goodies for all six of us roomies and six beautifully wrapped packages that contained amazing fluffy scarves, we broke tradition. That's right. We DIDN'T wear hats. We wore scarves. I show up a mere five minutes early (usually it's about ten) to be confronted by dear Robert, my home teacher. He was complaining about how I hadn't been home when he had spontaneously tried to come visit me. I am laughing at him, and I then notice Ryan moping around in the background pretending to be a ghost.

Ryan has this tendency to pretend he's not there and be a ghost until he finally decides it's worth gathering up the courage to come and talk to me. I am perfectly content to just let him do this. But Ryan has recently tried to convince me that he "is not a ghost," and since I had already broken the hat thing... I could break another unwritten tradition. "Hello, Ryan!" I was not expecting him to be so thrilled that I had noticed him and actually started talking to him first. He lit up instantly. I'm not sure I can even begin to describe how funny it was. So that's how I ended up breaking a third tradition... I was talking to Ryan and then ward prayer started... and... I was not sitting in my traditional spot on the staircase with my short roommates (who happen to be giggling and shaking their heads at me). Oh snap.

After ward prayer... my friend Sarah pokes me as I've resumed conversation with Ryan. I turn around to an offer I cannot refuse. Sarah... has... chocolate... cake... I hurriedly say goodbye to Ryan and I invade Sarah's apartment. "I'm really, really sorry, it's just that I made too much and I'm trying to get rid of..." I kind of just laugh at her. "No, no, any time!"

I come back to my apartment... and realize I have forgotten my keys. I pound on my door. This is a surefire way to get all your roommates out in the hall. So, when I open the door, I am pounced upon instantly. I went from a singular person carrying a chocolate cake to a large mass of six girls clumped together cradling a chocolate cake. "What... what... what... is it..." "Oooooh... oh oh oh...." "Can... can... can... I have some?" "Shaaaaarrreeee? Share share share?" Remember now that we are all stressing out majorly and that chocolate is a cure-all (ooh, FYI, I've been eating chocolate all semester and no migraines... joy!) for anything stress related. This is also a fresh, warm, and extremely aromatic chocolate cake. I put on the counter and let my roommates have at it. I go check my email, preferring to not be a part of this frenzy (I would have been participating if I wasn't stuffed full of pancakes). I come back seventy-five seconds later, only to find... GASP! The chocolate cake is GONE. Gone. Eaten already. The WHOLE thing. Not a single crumb left. Not only was the pan empty, all of the cake's former glory was in the bellies of my dear roommates. I wasn't too disappointed since I was so full, but I just shook my head at my ravenous roomies and made my way over back to Sarah's place to return the pan.

She opens the door and looks at me warily. "I'm here to return your pan!" I say brightly. "It's all gone! My roomies found it!"

"Well... did you get any?"

"No... I left for a few seconds, and I came back, and it was gone."

Maybe I should have lied, because Sarah was distraught. She attacked her apartment to find a Snickers bar to give me (she didn't like Snickers and had been given one). I just laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Anyway, that is all for now! I will see you all next week!

BYU Fun: Poltergeists with Alibis and Manbrownies

By far, my most interesting day has been today... so I will just quickly summarize my week at the Y, and then tell all about my fabulous and well, very funny, Sunday. I flew up to Salt Lake on Wednesday morning, and my grandma picked me up and took me over. I spent that evening unpacking and situating myself. Thursday... orientation. Walked all over campus. Not particularly exciting. Friday. Ditto. Saturday... I bought my books! And... cleaned my kitchen. I twitched everytime I walked by it, because there were boxes everywhere and I could barely walk through it. So I cleaned it. And I went to the football game, where we both won and got sunburned. Then... I was tired and slept.

Sunday.

I woke up around 9am, which for me was sleeping in. To everyone else in my apartment... well, let's just say they were all asleep. Perfect time to sneak a shower; after all, I do share my bathroom with five other girls. When I come out of the bathroom, my door is closed... and locked. With my room key inside, along with my contacts, my shoes, my phone... basically anything that might come in handy. So I ram on the door, screaming at my roommate Ashley to wake up ("Awaken, awaken! Let me in!"), but to no avail. I assume then that she is not inside. Next option. I barefootedly and wethairedly leave my apartment and ram on the Resident Assistant's door... she doesn't hear me... after all is only about 10am. Too early for the average college kid to be awake anyway. Back to my apartment... excitement!!! One of my roommate/apartmentmates is awake! Rachel tried her key, but it didn't work (should have been obvious, but it was worth a try). So... I left to try and wake the RA again, and again to no avail. Alas! As I reenter my apartment, out yonder by my room appears -- Ashley! Aparently she slept through my desperate attempts to get in my room. Haha. I now will take my keys to the shower with me. :D

We went to church as a hall, and then we came back... most of my roommates left, so it was just Rachel, Hillary, and I. Being the strange creatures we are, we discussed how useful a poltergeist would be... and that we would bribe it with brownies so that it would torture our roommates instead of us. We continued this conversation by IMing Rachel's cousin Cynthia... who didn't know what a poltergeist was.

Then...

BANG BANG BANG!!! Someone knocking at our door! We immediately suspect poltergeists, but in kidding. I bolt to the hallway door, and peep out the eyehole... no one! No one at all!!! So... the three of us, slightly freaked out, run to our kitchen door, and alas! No one there either. Now that our freak out factor has been raised to paranoid level, we decide to check the hall door again... this time we actually open it. And... the ground yields and poltergeist-y surprise. Brownies. On the ground.

Coincidence? We thought not! We were just talking about how wonderful a poltergeist would be, and how we would make our poltergeist brownies, and suddenly a poltergeist yields up brownies as an initiative offering of alliance! But for those non-believers, the brownies and the poltergeist had an alibi. With man handwriting! Ahhhh! And the handwriting said something about the brownies being a gift from the shippmates in a particular room in a neighboring man's dorm. And! There were initials on there. In awkward cursive!

We were not at all impressed at the intrigue and mystery, and had to know WHO had left us brownies if not the poltergeist (who I am now a firm believer in). Hillary, being the resourceful sidekick she is, remembered about the freshman academy directory... and quickly identified the culprits. Two bakers and... a sustainer. Slightly disappointed at them being guys and not poltergeists, we headed off to a hall meeting and a ward prayer.

Back from the activities, we sit down and start chomping on the brownies, having identified the culprits and confronted them at ward prayer (one of which asked my roommate Jackie on a date, haha), felt safe enough to finish off the plate. As we ingested the large amount of sugar (after fasting no less), we undoubtedly and expectedly became very silly and hyper although it was kind of late. And sadly, I have to admit the sillyness started with careless mumble of, "Mmmmmm... manbrownies...". This of course resulted in a long tirade of laughter and a succeedingly hillarious onset of jokes.

The worst, and funniest, joke, although I am afraid I may have screwed up attributing who said what and what exactly they said:

Rachel: "Everybody stop! There may a ring hidden in one of these manbrownies!"

Hillary: "Oh! Oh! I got it! I got it!"

Well, I start class on Tuesday, although I already have homework to do. So that is what I'll be doing tomorrow.