Dang you cool girls

Oh great. It’s snowing. Bitter sweet for me, but not for the reasons you usually hear every single year. Mine are different. Cuz I’m so indie. Like the smell of blood is to vampires, snow is to “cool” snowboarding chics. The cool girls are out. – Out to get me. Not to suck my blood. But to thirst on my humiliation of being somewhat athletically worthless. I belong with this crowd.

You see, I celebrate the snow by curling up by the fire with my pen and paper or book while gazing out the square paned windows. And maybe watch Little Women. COOL girls don’t do this. They get in with the guys, and say “Sa-weet! The best powder ever bra!”
Bra: n. White person ebonics for “brother and/or friend”

Powder? I’m from Texas. To this day I always think baby powder first and the last half of that spilt second I correct it, ‘soft snow’. Cool girls don’t even use baby powder. But I do. My appreciation for powder comes when I don’t want to wash my hair so I sprinkle it on top of my head to gain one more curly hair day.

But my uncoolness gets worse than this. There’s one for every season.

Bear Lake? No matter what season, that lake is freezing. I love riding in the boat. And riding outside the boat. BUT getting back in the boat – You have to pretend that goose bumps the size of skittles does not signify subtle misery. But here she is, shaved skin and not a goose bump on her. Utah born and Bear Lake bred.



One handed.
Switch hands ...
a 180 ...
a 360...
A jump of the wake.
And a flip.





‘All right Chic. Ya makin me look bad and this retro swimsuit wasn’t cheap. So sit down and act incompetent. Help me feed their egos. Like this...


The boat stops. But not because she fell. Because it got old and now it’s somebody else’s turn. I was never the kid that fought over turns. Turns were not appreciated. To this day in board games, someone has to tell me when it’s my turn. Rarely ever do I value this.

“Hannah! Your turn!”

‘Oh thanks, as if my anxiety wasn’t keeping track this time.”

its hard to accept being out shone with dignity.
But I take whatever points I can get for going like a good sport who’s not even sporty. And all that is left to do when I climb back in, is raise my hand half way and ask,

“Does anybody still want me?!”

“Well what marketable talent do you have, Hannah?”

“Alliteration.”

Oh AND, I’m a good listener….That’s what I’m told anyways. And potentially popular in Provo with party pooper Peter Priesthoods. A pretty pitiful Provo princess. Please no Pity.