Call Me a Pringle: Salty & Single

I have shoulder impingement now, so add that to the growing list.

I would do this. 

In case you forgot I was funny, I was talking to a kid from the QD tournament and he apologized for tackling me. I said Nah, it was a great hit. Doesn’t mean I don’t want revenge, though. To which he responded: Ok, little miss innocent Mormon… And I replied, Listen. Just because I won’t down a shot of whiskey, doesn’t mean I can’t take down a couple of chasers. Let’s. Go. 

My favorite of all the humans. He's gotta hold his eyeballs open
bc he keeps falling asleep. 

 This week was rough. It’s hard to focus on anything scholastic when The Grandfather is in town. Family dinner was conveniently planned during my physics lab, so I had a solo lunch with the man, myth, and legend. Not mad.

"I don't do closed quotes. I like to leave things open."

After my second physics class of the week, I had an intramural basketball game – where we were ranked lowest in the highest division. Yikes. Trey, Taylor, and Alexis came and cheered, those lovely people. We lost, but barely. I had some nice post moves though.

"Mine's made with love."
"What's mine made with?"
"Casualness."

Since G Money extended his UT stay, Mimi got her hair done at Hannah’s school while Grampy missed out on a free head massage. Muffed it. Afterwards, I went to lunch with those three and Porter at Zupas. They loved it. And now I have a pinky CTR ring to match the big guy. (Also a sword-cane to inherit??)

This man is about to go into hibernation mode after CanCanning with us. 

I took a break to do HW, then we were back at it. The Hutchins Trio showed up (with Porter) for a somewhat impromptu family dinner (to which the Schenewarks arrived late). We then brought the cheer squad to Josh’s city league game.

Because we have to have nice pictures for the funeral slide show. 

We left at half time so I could crush my history test. Booyah.

"We're all in the same game; just different levels.
Dealing with the same hell; just different devils." -graffiti

I went to Isaiah’s Girl’s Night for a bit. I ate pizza, made fun of people, and coached a few dinkers in the art of card shuffling. (At which I am NO expert).

"Think salty thoughts!" -Hannah 

I showed up to The Attic Series (a rebranded poetry night), which acquiesced to my request to maintain its freeness. You’re welcome. I had a whole section of mission and quidditch folk there to support my amateur white rapping. Holla back. SEE BELOW FOR POEMS. 

This is why we braved the jackal-infested wilderness. 

The quidditch folk and I got ice cream and chatted for a while. It was nice. I feel like I’ve known them forever. Then I picked Hannah up from Girl’s Night. I missed out on facials and Cards Against Humanity, but I heard some quality freestyle from Isaiah’s brother, so who’s the real winner?

"He's nice...obese..." -Lauren

At 4am, the Hutchins cubed left for the Salt Flats to see the sun rise. We took a slight detour to shubberous mountain land, where the jackals (and by that Hannah meant jackalopes) roam free and attack innocent passersby with a vengeance. We barely escaped with our lives.

"Feeling discouraged? Don't mope. There's hope. Do dope. Nope." -graffiti 

We booked back to the roadside stop at the flats. There was some nice graffiti, some nicer dance moves, and our car didn’t even deteriorate yet. Count our blessings.

This one's for Shiboi who couldn't see the salt flats in my IG pic. 

We stopped by the boulangerie on the way home for a French breakfast. It was more expensive and not as good, but way better than anything American. I love pain au chocolat.

That's warm bread filled with chocolate, folks. 

I met up with the QD peeps plus Cam to hike the Y. It wasn’t as bad as I remembered. Actually, halfway up, I kind of wanted more of a hike. We jammed and chatted and did NOT carry brooms.

Proof that I hiked the Y (Greg/Trevor). 

Lauren came over for a bit, which was lovely and unexpected. I love how much we don’t have to stress out in our friendship. It’s easy and wonderful.

I am the Queen of Salt and this is my kingdom.

Hannah and I went to a ward activity. (This is one for the books.) It was just a pizza party at Evan’s house (our 2^nd counselor, and also our favorite). Aside from being a delightfully quirky human, he’s also way loaded and has 2 pianos, a pool, waterslide, rope swing, hot tub, and shooting range in his house. And he told us we could host events there whenever we want J Come. At. Me.

Bringing our own salt to the flats. Come at us.

Half-Blood Prince of Bel Air

(you know what tune to sing this to...)

Now, this is a story all about how

My life got ascendio’d upside down

And I'd like to take some time

Just find a good niche

I'll tell you how I got into a game called Quidditch.

In eastern Kiwanis the game began

With six hoops in an oval and colored head bands

Brooms are up, stagger, no swagger fast paced

Chasers shootin the quaffle with aggressive grace

When a couple of beaters went to stop the race

By hurling ice cold bludgers right in their face

I scored and tackled kids and had lots of fun

They said 'Please come with us to Regionals out in Washington.’

Brooms up for game 1 against Boise State:

A team full of huge, black, ex football players. Great.

Took out the big guy, then got tackled by his brother

They came back with a vengeance and then boy were we smothered

After that, yo, we crushed it

Some clutch snitching had three games won and done with

Is this what the Provo Night Furies living like?

Hmm, this might be alright.

But wait – game v our rivals USQC

Those chumps walked on the field, expecting an easy beat

I don’t think so

Us new players were clutch

Utah State Quidditch just can’t handle the Hutch

The games were done, and our bruises were nursed

The results came in: us Night Furies were tied three ways for first

I ain’t trying to lose now, but then we got word

That our low total score bumped us down to third

The Furies lost out on our World Cup bid

But the fight ain’t over, not for these dedicated kids

Tickets bought to the lone star state loser’s bracket

We still got a shot, but we’ll need some more practice

Pulling up to the field at noon Saturdays

Mind full of game film and various plays

I looked at my kingdom

Finally on pitch

To take you all down in a game called Quidditch

The new mixtape cover for #6andUP.

Boost Ya Life

The Hutch is in the house, boosting my guy T Sizzle

Too little wit to block hits from this mixtape missile

You might dodge a bullet, but I cripple with this shade

Count it down and try to block this lyrical grenade

Choose your weapon, boy: mace, broadsword, or pistol

Like the old Olympic games, this shiz is official

Check in on the scale, now fated to fail

You’re measured, you’re weighed, same as Dicken’s great whale

But nothing frustrates like your… saxophone?

Abusing volume limits, losing hearing, Just…don’.

When the war vets hear you playing, they’ll go back to their trenches

Madamn arrête tous ca! Don’t pardon my Frenches.

Harmful armfuls of oral art imparted til you faint.

You’re a space jam martian guard, I go hard in the paint

You’re like Tayshaun Prince, while I’m Shaquille O’Neal

Yikes, wipe up that wound and let the blood congeal

Now, listen up Trev, ‘cuz I ain’t here to boast

You know I work hard, going coast to coast

Spittin nonfiction, here’s a dose of my prose

Pullin you apart to eat with jam and toast

Openin the doors you have tried to close

Givin you a chance, not quite, but almost

This is not an ode to you, bro, it’s a roast

Fight club’s in session, grab your crab meat for dayysss

Still think you’re on fleek? Well let me rephrase

You’re a fungus-footed hobbit, not some Hercules

A stubby little gnome challenged vertically

Put that pencil down, boy, it’s time to leave the Shire

The only thing you’re drawing here is enemy fire

If that’s not clear, let me paint you a picture

Your art’s a disaster: 9 of 10 on the richter

Respond to a quandary spawned by your next of kin -

Why does the squad still call you by your nickname, little Tim ?

Muscles flatter than a cracker, fact, not acting, it’s atrophy

Stack factors that matter, always attacking with audacity

Your strategizin’s ill-advised it’s wise to take the fall

These ideal raps hypnotize, your rhymes do nothing at all

It’s your call: deploy annoying poems you’ve been producing

Or go ahead and soil yourself and take this all-time boostinggggg