You Know It's A Success When the Cops Shut You Down

I know it's been two weeks since Halloween and that you have probably seen these pictures on Facebook. Sue me. I haven't had a chance to upload my pictures, and actually, I think Kaylin beat me to the punch and already did it. Whatev.

For Halloween, we threw a party--the party to end all parties. In truth, I am not really a fan of parties. Tons of people I don't know and I somehow find myself clustered around the four people I do know. I cannot conjure up a conversation out of thin air, mostly because I just don't care enough to do so. They ask us to network all of the time at work and I just loathe it. I can't be fake with people I don't know and pretend to be interested in them when I'm just not. I don't believe in making friends just so you can say you have friends. Anyway . . . this one turned out to be super fun.

Our house went as the characters of Clue which was surprisingly hard to pull together. There was one long night when Kaylin and I were at the mall trying to find stuff for Mrs. Peacock and I just wanted to yell and Kaylin just wanted to go home. We were literally out the door when we found my peacock shirt. Surprising.

With the sisters. Kaylin went as Professor Plum. Funny thing is, nobody realized she was dressed up. I think she should have told everyone she was a naughty librarian to get their attention. Alicia was Audrey Hepburn (brilliant!).

My pipe was a spray-painted wand. Nobody was impressed. And someone actually said to me, "Um, you know you could have gone to Home Depot and just asked them to cut you a pipe."

Oh.

Another thing that's interesting . . . nobody knew the characters of Clue. When I told people to guess who I was, they would inevitably say Professor Plum? Um, Colonel Mustard? No, you morons. Look at me, I'm dressed up in effing blue.

Here's where the party gets interesting. We invited everyone we knew, we had friends invite everyone they knew . . . turns out we had about 200 people show up in our small house. Talk about beyond crowded. It was going great until the sorority crew showed up in their skin tight leather dominatrix-styled outfits complete with kitty-cat ears and tails (because, duh! They were cats!) that I really felt the party lost its cool flavor. All available guys zeroed in on them. A little disappointing, if you ask me. It was seriously a scene out of Mean Girls. Which again illustrates my point that men are retards. And if you think I'm sounding a little more jaded than normal, you're probably right. I feel a huge wave of cynicism crashing over me.

Everything was going well until Mr. Police Man showed up with a chip on his shoulder and a gun in his holster. No, he was not here to dance. He looked pissed. Apparently one of our lovely neighbors called in regarding noise, lol. Which brings me to my next goal: taking Christmas cookies to my neighbors this year. I don't know if they like us. In our defense, it was Halloween, a Friday night, and only about midnight. And there was no bong in the den, no drunken maniacs running up and down the streets--it was merely dancing and food. Pretty tame if you ask me.

But I got a SEVERE talking to by the cop. He ripped me a new one and then proceeded to do it again. I was not offended that he showed up at our door; I was, however, mad as hell when he talked to me like I was an idiot about noise ordinances and citations and eventually took my information down. I don't appreciate intimidation tactics especially when I would have shut the door and turned down the music. What a tool.

My landlords were also pretty mad, but not at us. They were mad at the cop and wanted to call the mayor because they "know the guy" and report the cop's name and the disrespectful way he treated their tenants. How funny is that? To quote Troy my landlord, "Melissa, please don't let this be the end of your gargantuous parties." I promised him I wouldn't. And then he got a mischeivous look on his face and said he was going to report us to the cops tonight. We got razzed for about a week from them. Needless to say, I love my landlords!

Thank goodness Thanksgiving is so relaxing because I need a break!

You Were (Mostly) Right!

Mrs. Peacock with the lead pipe in the kitchen.

More pictures to come . . . and of course, I've got stories.

Happy Halloween!

Who am I going to be for Halloween? Your hint is in this picture!

This Just In: I'm Buying Some Cats and Calling It A Day

I was told on Sunday that a lot of people won't come to my single's ward because it's too old. I cringed at the word. Instead, they would rather go to their family ward. Here was my question: if our new bishopric is able to get more people to come to our ward, inevitably they're going to be younger. Which means, gulp, I will officially be in the minority, and I will be one of the few who shares the title of old.

In a world where cougardom is becoming more acceptable, I've given it a thought or two. I mean, why not? Is it really so bad to date someone younger than you? I know couples who have done it. Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher are 16 years apart, but frankly, she looks creepy so I can't really condone that relationship since she weirds me out. I mean, seriously, Demi, plastic surgery and botox is not always the answer.

So on Monday, we had a combined activity with a student ward from the University of Utah. I had expected, and gotten, younger looking faces--the frivolous, easy look of one who is unencumbered by responsibilities, bills, obligations, a 40-hour a week job. And I thought to myself, maybe I could date one of these guys. I mean, they're not that much younger than me.

And then a guy came up to me, his fresh face smiling as he asked if I would dance with him. I had met him when he arrived. I had given him a name tag. He gave me an especially flirtatious smile and I thought to myself that he looked a little young. But whatever, he walked away into the party only to show up an hour later asking me to dance. Once again I thought to myself, he looks a little young, but I wouldn't say no if he asked me on a date. We were learning how to country line dance and even a little swing. Surprisingly, I was loving it. Who knew? It surprises me the things I love that I expect I won't, and I think country dancing might be one of them.

"Where do you live?" He asked. He raised his arm and ushered me underneath it.

"About a mile from here. You?" I was sweeping behind him as he easily switched my hand from his left to his right which brought me back to the front and facing him.

"I live on Highland Drive, down in Sandy."

"Oh, I like that area, a lot of really nice houses are down there." He was now spinning me in circles and the song Any Man of Mine was playing in the background. I was feeling slightly breathless, woozy. Dizziness had taken over and I started drifting off, thinking about how I get dizzy too easily. Vainly, I tried to fight it. I was losing.

"Oh, yeah! That place is great! I love living there! I mean, I've lived there my whole life!"

This didn't surprise me. I meet people all of the time who still live with their parents. I was still mostly thinking about the dizziness, though.

And then he said, "Of course, I still live there. I haven't even gone on my mission yet!"

A record scratched in the distance, I'm sure of it, as I snapped back to attention. He laughed gamely, completely unaware. Picture me: my eyebrows darting up in surprise, a forced smile on my face and perhaps I started laughing a little too hard as his earnest face continued to smile. He was oblivious of what he had just said. I digested the news. I had received googly eyes from a (yes, this is true) A TEENAGER! And what may be even worse, I had thought that if he were to ask for my number I would give it to him. Even Chester the Molester might have thought he was a little young. Sniffle sniffle. Hiccup. Hand me a tissue, please. I've just said good bye to my youth. I can't even pretend to be one of you, my friends.

Sure, I take it as a compliment. He had no idea that I am 29--a full ten years older than him. Sigh. I can only attribute this to the fact that I am the product of years of a Clinique-labored skin regimen and 80 SPF sunscreen. I could be their poster child for diligent skin care and the positive effects of staying away from the sun. But I'm not going to lie, a little part of me died inside. I've never felt a separation in life as distinctly as I did just then.

It's not dating younger guys that's the issue, it's dating younger guys who are in the same sphere as you. And I saw it too clearly that night, if my ward becomes populated by cute, pre-mish, post-mish young people, well, there goes the neighborhood. I am SOL. I sighed again in resignation at the thought.

This thought took me back to a fortune I got last week: Opportunity awaits you next Monday.

So it was talking about next Monday, right?

The Wedding (Not of Horrors)

Allyson's wedding day at the Salt Lake Temple. I love this place the more time I spend in there, it's so beautiful and her wedding was so wonderful. What a great time to spend with friends and family.

Roommates! She was such a beautiful bride.

Sad! We've lost a roommate. What? They say she traded up? Is this because Brian's tall?

Um, Brian, I know you guys are finally married and all . . .

No longer the Fab Five . . . how about the Fearsome Foursome?

Waiting for the luncheon I took the girls to a new waffle place downtown called Bruges. This place is to-die-for good. These are legit, Belgium waffles where they actually make the waffles out of dough and cook it with a cinnamon or vanilla glaze on top. Check it out, you can't miss with it.

Do I have whip cream on my face?

At the luncheon, love my girls.

Weak sauce, Al. He totally got you.

Long day and we will definitely miss Allyson. Good byes are so bittersweet.

The Bridal Shower of Horrors

My roommate Allyson got married yesterday--so exciting. In all seriousness, there are not enough weddings in my life.

I think Allyson was being generous to us when she let us throw her a bridal shower, she had a record 7 showers! So when Kaylin asked her what kind of food she would like, we were thinking something formal. Instead, she asked for a Halloween-themed bridal shower. How awesome is that? We totally ran with it.

Kaylin had a genius idea to make our table Elvira-y. If you notice the goblets, they have spiders on them. We turned out the lights and lit candles throughout the house and ate dinner by candlelight. Spooky music played in the background.

The picture quality isn't great as we ate in the dark. But I have to say everyone should do more parties like this.

Billy Bob teeth were the party favors that nobody took home. What?

Allyson's wedding gift . . . I'm in love with this salad bowl. Sooo beautiful. I think I might buy myself one.

In order to make it "bridal-shower approved," we inserted some sexy salad mixings. It was required.

Cranberry pills? Seriously, guys?

No, really, why do I need cranberry pills?

Please don't make me . . .

Great Mystery Novels for Halloween

The leaves are starting to turn and the weather is changing and all I want to do is curl up with a blanket and a book. Maybe Halloween has officially done me in, but this seems like the perfect time to read a good mystery.

A Quick Disclaimer: I think the Mystery / Suspense genre has been butchered to a great extent. It's hard to find a good mystery that doesn't leave you thinking you were just manipulated for an entire book thinking that first it was the high school football coach and then the cheerleader, but no, it couldn't be the cheerleader because she was under the evil influence of the drug lord downtown so then you think it was the drug lord instead. And then you found out it was the WIFE. This is a true story, by the way, in a book I will NOT be recommending. Because at the end all I could think was the writer must think he's one hard core story teller and I just wanted to punch him in the face because he was absolute crap.

Here are my recommendations:

Nancy Drew by Carolyn Keene. Bear with me here. But Nancy was my first introduction to mysteries as a girl and I voraciously read them as fast as I could get them. Kaylin gave me the first six books of the series last year for my birthday and I thought it would be a cute jaunt to read them but I found my heart quickening with each book because Nancy Drew is seriously one tough chick. She'll jump into any moving car, find mysterious passage ways and follow them to see where it leads, sneak into creepy houses . . . and maintain a great tan (because in Nancy's world, it's perennially summer). Maybe they're written for kids but I still enjoy them.

All Around the Town by Mary Higgins Clark. For the most part, I think Mary Higgins Clark is a subpar writer. Hey, I want to enjoy her books, but she writes with absolutely no personality. Her books are practically flatlined before you even start one of her novels. But All Around the Town is a great read. I bought this book for a trip to Hawaii when I was in high school and was gripped. It was so good that I read it every chance I got . . . who cared about Hawaii. My friends totally made fun of me until I finished it and then one-by-one they could all be seen reading that book on the beach and anywhere else they had the chance.

A Beautiful Blue Death by Charles Finch. I just finished this book and it's not bad. Perhaps a little slow and the mystery could have been tighter but I enjoyed it. It's the first in the series and so I'm hopeful that the writer will improve. Taking place in the Victorian era, it's a nice journey to another time.

Masie Dobbs by Jacqueline Winspear. This is my favorite so my review is completely biased. Just to warn you, the Masie Dobbs series is a slow start. The first book is kind of boring, but if you stick with it you will not be disappointed. Masie Dobbs is a female PI just after the First World War stuck somewhere between the changing line of class distinction, feminism, and the aftermath of WWI while WWII is distantly in the future. Most of the time, I can figure out the culprit but it's all in the journey and figuring out why they did it--that becomes the real mystery. Even my mom (whose literary tastes couldn't be further from my own: she likes pioneer books, I read the Classics) loves them. Look at the book art--proof that you can judge a book by its cover because that is actually why I picked it up in the first place. Seriously, go get them. They're so fun to read and you might shed a tear in the process--very few writers can elicit entertainment and genuine emotion in the same book.