D-bags and Tools

"Kristen, you are the female version of a tool."

A few weeks ago one of my co-workers uttered these words to me.  I kind of chuckled, then I was confused, and now I'm just angry.

It all started from a conversation about how I lived at King Henry.  King Henry is known under many different names.  One of my favorite nicknames is, "the Tool Shed."  Well.. why do people think that the tenants of the King are tools? Well let's see.

The Unspoken Rules of King Henry

1. If it's over 75 degrees and you're not at the pool, you're doing it wrong.
2. If you're a guy, the sun is out, and your guns are not out, you're doing it wrong.
3. Snap backs and shorts far above the knee are a must. (Applies to males and female.)
4. If you're sock game isn't on point, you're doing it wrong.
5. You can always fit one more person on the back of your scooter.

...and the list goes on.

So, what makes them tools? Is it because they can have their shirt off and be efficiently covered in tanning oil in 10 seconds flat?  Or maybe it's because even at the gym (Golds, of course) their entire outfit is coordinated.

Well, here it is.


Stop it.  


Stop judging.  Stop introducing yourselves to people, finding out that they live at Belmont, King Henry, or the Village and writing them off as a D-bag.  Stop saying, "Oh, you live in King Henry? How does is feel living with all the Provo All-Stars?" Stop. You know why?

Because the night I broke my hand in three places, I had a group of worthy men at my door ready to administer a blessing to me.  Because whenever I'd walk by the volleyball courts, a friendly face would always shout, "Hey, wanna play? We could use one more!" Because you don't hear me saying, "Oh, you live at the Riv? I hear that all your roommates do is play Dungeons and Dragons."

Moral of this post is to be nice. People are good. Just because they live east of campus doesn't mean that they suck.

*Remember: Judging people is lame.  Unless you're in the right.  Example: If it's below 60 degrees, and the guns are still out (not wearing a shirt) then you have the power and the responsibility to call them a D-bag or tool.  Your choice.

"There is no tool, in this pool." - Richardson 

The BYU Football Player Epidemic

It's definitely been 6 months since my last (and only) post.  I'm the worst, I know.   

Disclaimer: Most of the athletes I know at BYU are the kindest, sweetest, most genuine people I can associate myself with.  This is more about the exception to the rule, not the rule itself.

Yesterday, my friends and I went to the BYU Cougar Kick-off. The people that attend the BYU Cougar Kick-off can be broken down into four groups:

1) Parents with little children getting autographs
2) Hot-shot college athletes
3) College students trying to win free things (Carl's Jr. coupons, water bottles, chaptstick, etc.)

and last but not least..

3) 18-21 year old girls walking around aimlessly to get all the hot boys autographs.

I'm not too sure which of those that my friends and I fell into.  I mean, we walked in with a poster ready for autographs, but left with a purse full of sunscreen flavored chapsticks and cowbells. You can decide which category we fall into.


Now onto my main point.  The BYU Athlete Epidemic.

As you walked onto the field you could see all of the football players standing around just waiting for the girls come and talk to them.  I mean, just w a i t i n g .

Like it was expected! That's the issue. It's like they wear a t-shirt with BYU Football written on the front and they just know that everyone was bowing down to them.  Awkward... my friends and I got a photo with a group of them.  I'm kind of hypocritcal.

But to get that photo? Oh my. I think their exact words were, "Oh. You guys want a photo with us? Well, I guess we could maybe do that for ya." Just imagine that with a bunch of jerky grins and a strong burst of ego in the air.

Then, one of the boys asked my friend if we knew any bad girls, preferably non-mormon girls. He wanted to "hang out" with her. Like, what? Yes, let me whip out my list of all of my questionable Provo friends and hand them over. Please control yourself for like two seconds. Thanks.

Moral of the story is, football players just play a sport.  Hot?  Maybe.  Could cradle me like a baby? Yes. Just like every other student on BYU Campus? Definitely.

Here goes nothing.

Well, here it is. I'm a 19 years old, living in Provo, Utah, just trying to get by. I've been trying to figure out what to do with all of the things I've learned and the funny stories I come by, then it hit me. Blog it.

What makes my life different from every 20 year old wannabe blogger? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. In fact, I'm almost positive no one will ever read this. Oddly, I'm okay with that. 

I'm not writing this to change lives. I'm not writing this to make people laugh. I'm not writing this to force my thoughts and beliefs on others. 

I'm not. I promise. 

I'm writing this to show the world (more realistically random internet creepers) what life is like for a very tan (I'm 1/2 Melanesian) 19 year old girl living in Provo, Utah.