Holy Crap.

Ohmigosh. Holy crap. Ohmigosh. Ohmigosh ohmigosh ohmigosh OH MY GOSH.

WHAT.

DID.

I.

JUST.

DO?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!!???!!!

Holy freakin cow I am freaking out right now. I just did the unthinkable. I just did something that I have made fun of sooo many times. And why have I made fun of it???!!! because it's such a stupid, Molly Mormon typical Idahoian/Utahian thing to do! I never, ever, ever, ever, ever EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER thought I would do this. ANYTHING LIKE THIS. EVERRRRRRR.

Fortunately I know I was not in my right mind when I did this. How do I know? Well because I have not been in my right mind for several days now. I never go to sleep at night and that is legit. The earliest I went to bed this past week was 1:30am, then it went to 3am, and then a whopping 5am TWO NIGHTS (not in a row, thank goodness), and just everywhere in-between.

What, you may ask, is wrong with me?? Here's the dealio.

I DON'T KNOW.

I honestly can't put a pin on it. Why do I feel the need to stay up so late?? Is it because in Psychology I'm learning about sleeping cycles and I want to in some weird way stick it to the man by staying up all hours?? I don't know. I'm weird. Also, I've been having an obsession with cereal lately??? I have two boxes of Cheerios, Honey Bunches of Oats, Great Grains, Cranberry Almond Crunch, and 2 boxes of Fruit Loops. What???? Whereee did this come from?!!?

But anyway. I was not in my right mind. I will go erase everyone involved memories right now, because this can never see the light of day. Honestly, WHAT WAS I THINKING?!?!?!?!

This is going to haunt me for the rest of my life. I will never be able to look myself in the face again and call myself a real man. Even though I never have been a real man, and actually am pretty much thrilled at being a girl, but you know what I'm saying.

Ohmigosh. Ohmigosh. Oh my GOSH. Ohmigosh. Ohmigosh ohmigosh OHMIGOSH.

I realize I will be very embarrassed by this post in the morning, but I prolly will never take it down. But really. I'm freakin crazy to have done this. Why. That's all I want to know. WHYYYY did I do this?! What possessed me to do this. What is the matter with me. What. lkfgnknglkre

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fkbnvkjnbcvkbn cvm,trjyelryjerpojwoefmldsmgfmdfkdfkn

Girls will be Boys, or at least, I will be ;)

Happy Valentine's Day! I know I'm a lil late, but suck it up. Anyway.


So I'm fairly certain that no one in my FHE group reads my blog, so I feel relatively safe posting this. If one of you do read this, I would have to tell you that this story is completely false and absolutely did not happen no matter what you may read. Ehm. Let's get on with it.


This Valentine's Day my roommate Merrin and I decided that we were going to decorate our FHE father and brother's door to their room. We had it planned out to a freakin T. Listen up.


1. We would have them over for dinner Sunday night to keep them away from the scene of the crime and under our roommates' watchful eyes.
2. We would be called away by Chelsea for a "Relief Society meeting". We would instead go upstairs to the Upper Lounge and change into our "boy" outfits we had stashed there.
3. We would manfully strut to Biddulph and no one would question or deter us as we would stomp up the stairs in such a way that would exude testosterone to the highest level. 
4. There would be no one in the hallway when we arrived, and we would have no interruptions as we decorated their door. We would walk right up to the correct door knowing that it was the one and not have to ask anyone for directions, because after all that is NOT what men do.
5. If anyone happened to walk out into the hallway while we were decorating, they would think our actions were perfectly normal manly and carry on. Maybe even fist bump us for being so creative.
6. And if worse came to worse and our true gender revealed we would just tell them that we were doing this for our FHE brothers and they would understand why our presence in a strictly BOYS ONLY dorm was necessary and then help us and then fall madly in love with us and then marry us. What??


We were so pumped. We cut out beautiful hearts and wrote silly poems and put on bright red lipstick and kissed every piece of love. We went to the store and got conversation hearts and heart-shaped dove chocolates. We ate none of them. We were very serious about doing this thing right. At the last minute we added my Love Spell body mist from Victoria's Secret. Ohhh yeahhhh.


We packed our manly-looking duffel bag the day before with sweats, hoodies, hats, manly shoes, and of course our supplies. We had the boys come over for dinner that Sunday (the 13th). Now it was time for stage one: get the keys.


We decided right before they arrived that it would be ten times better if we got into their room, so we relieved them of their jackets and sent them off to do menial tasks in the kitchen. The moment they were out of sight we attacked their pockets, looking everywhere for the keys. But nothing was all we found. Eventually we realized that they must be in their pockets.


"Okay everyone!" I clapped my hands. "We're going to play a game. It's called....what's in my pocket??" The boys shot us strange glances but complied, emptying little knick-knacks onto the table when finallyyy, Lynn produced a set of keys.


"Ohhh what is this cute lil thing?" Sierra gushed as she scooped them up.


"Wait-is that a lego Dobby keychain?" Chelsy snatched them away.


"Ohmigosh," I took the keys. "I think it is!"


"It is," Lynn said, a little confused by our enthusiasm. "Can I have it back?"


Giggling, we tossed it around the room, passed it under the table, and generally confused the now key-less boy. He was convinced that Sierra or Chelsy had it, but really Sierra had been supa-sly and hidden it in a nook underneath the table.


Stage one: COMPLETE


Stage two was to leave and disguise ourselves. Chelsea (not to be confused with Chelsy) knocked on our door and, according to plan, told us that we were needed for a Relief Society Meeting. I asked if we could come a couple minutes late, but she said that she had already waited around for awhile. We thought we laid it on pretty thick :) Reluctantly I grabbed my stuff. Before we left, Sierra "dropped" her ring under the table and she grabbed the keys as she reached down to get it. I hugged her goodbye and that is how the keys changed hands. Yes I know the CIA should be recruiting me any minute.


We walked out the door with Chelsea and then parted at the stairs. We hurried down to the Upper Lounge, where we unearthed our bag from underneath a couple pillows in a far corner of the room. We changed and our outfits were as such:
Merrin: Boy shoes, her jeans (she forgot her sweats) pulled low, hoodie, manly knit skit hat with hair pulled back underneath.
Me: My gray knit boots (I don't have boy shoes, but I figured since I was hiding the buttons on the sides under my pants, they just looked supa fly), my boy BYU-I sweatpants which I pulled low so that my black leggings (doubling as boxers) showed, a navy blue hoodie from Merrin and a black track jacket on top in an attempt to hide the fact that yes, I have boobs (didn't work). We stopped by a couple apartments and got a lime green baseball cap from Michelle (who I LOVE) to hide my hair. Also, that's kinda the style for guys here; hoodie with the hood up and a baseball cap underneath. I know, slightly thuggish, but they look hot sooo....


Then we gigglingly stomped down the stairs. This girl saw us and started laughing. "What?" I called in my manly voice. "We're men!"


"Nahh- you're too cute and curvy to be a boy."


I frowned down at my boobs, silently willing them to go away for just the one night. Merrin smacked her bubble butt and we exchanged an uneasy glance. This should've been an indication for us to turn back, but, like men, we shrugged it off and ignored our feelings. We got some confidence from Michelle and then strutted toward Biddulph Hall.


We passed very few people, but I felt compelled to communicate with each of them. "Sup," I called to a group of guys. They gave me a weird look. Merrin and I giggled and kept going. We were not turning back. We had entered stage three: infiltrate Biddulph Hall.


We got to the side door. Several signs on the brick wall and the door told us firmly that there was a strict NO GIRLS ALLOWED policy. We looked at them and then at each other. "Good thing we're men." I grinned, and then pulled open the door.


We hurried up the stairs, meeting no one until we hit the third floor landing. Three boys were walking toward us. I was in front. I glanced back at Merrin for guidance. They could not see our faces. We were undeniably girls- we hadn't even taken our make-up off! Merrin shoved her hands into her hoodie and turned her back, and I did the first thing that came to my head. I had to hide my face, so I did the most girly thing imaginable.


I lifted my arm up like I was yawning and, also like I was yawning, stuck out my chest. Game. Over.


"Hey! What are you doing here?"


I continued to desperately shield my face, holding onto the delusion that they had no idea of our cross-dressing. "Uh, hey man...."


"We know you're girls."


Reluctantly we faced them. "We were just wanting to decorate our FHE brothers' door for Valentine's Day." That should be ok, righttt boys?


Wrong.


"Did you ask the RA?"


It was at this moment that I noticed several things about these boys. One was that they were not attractive. Second was that they were clearly losers who would stop at nothing to ruin Valentine's Day for their more-fortunate neighbors, because they obviously had no one to love them this February 14th. Otherwise they surely would've let us pass and even offer us assistance. Third was that they were very bitter and rude and had huge sticks up their butts.


"No but it's just for Valentines-"


"You have to ask the RA." They said firmly as they looked stupidly at us, attempting to be scary but just coming off as loser-jerks.


"Fine." We stomped down the stairs and out the door, watching two of them walk across the street to the MC. We sauntered into the Lounge, receiving several weird looks from its occupants, but we didn't care. Someeehow we still thought we were fooling everyone. This, my friends, is called wishful thinking. How sad and deluded we were :( But we were on a mission, and this little roadblock would not ruin our awesome beyond awesome plan you could bet our Adam's apples.


Finally we located the RA's office. Unfortunately it was closed, because it was 8:36 on a Sunday night. We called both numbers helpfully supplied on the door for her, but didn't call the two boys listed for fear they were the rude buttheads we met earlier. No answer. I glanced around. To our left was another staircase.


"Merrin, come on."


We again got to the top of the stairs without incident, but just as we victoriously stepped into the hallway, one of the losers from before stepped out into the middle of the hallway.


"Did you get permission?"


"No!" We shouted back defiantly. "But-"


"Then get out of here!"


By this time I was thoroughly done with this boy, and I wanted nothing more than to grow some mega-man muscles and punch his face in. Of course I did not do this, but I still refused to let go of my cover. "Fine, man!" I proclaimed in my deepest voice, and then Merrin and I fled down the stairs and out the door.


Our swagger went severely down as we plodded dejectedly home. I managed a "sup" to a passing girl, and I'm pretty sure she's still traumatized.


We returned Michelle's hat and told her of our failed mission. When we got to the part of my feminine beyond feminine yawn, she exclaimed, "dude! You should just scratched your crotch and pulled down your hat. All boys do that!"


I scolded myself for not remembering this vital aspect of male behavior.


We then changed back into our clothes and stashed the bag for pick-up the next day. When we got inside the house, we sneakily placed Lynn's keys on the floor near his feet, so he'd think he'd just dropped them there. The rest of the night passed with games and chatting. I took guy lessons from the boys, who told me that I could never pass for a boy because of my face and....other things. Ahahahaa :)


But then the next day Lynn told us that he had "no doubt" that each one of us could sneak up one staircase in Biddulph and down another without getting caught. "How much are you willing to bet on that?" I demanded.


"A lot of money." Lynn said confidently. I was so tempted to tell him to cough it up, but I didn't.


When the boys went home and we were cleaning up, I found Lynn's keys still on the ground. "Merrin!" I barked. "This is fate telling us we have to try again!"


So the next morning found Merrin and I at the RA's office, wearing cute Valentine's Day outfits to make us undeniable. Who could say no to two blondes dressed in pink and looking so hopeful?


Apparently Mary could.


Mary is the RA for Biddulph Hall. Several boys were hanging out in her office when we arrived. She was very nice, but sadly shook her head when she heard our request. "I"m sorry, girls aren't allowed upstairs." Heads hanging dejectedly, Merrin and I started walking away. "But you could get a boy to decorate it for you!" she called after us.


"I will!" One of the boys in her office volunteered.


"Me too!" Another said.


Merrin and I smiled again. "Ok. It's for our FHE brothers. They're on the third floor-"


"Wait," the first boy shot us a quizzical look. "Are you those girls who were here last night?"


"What?" I said quickly. "No. Not at all that was most definitely nottt us."


Everyone in the office blinked up at me and I shifted uncomfortably.


"Ok...."


"So here's the stuff." We opened the duffel and pulled out the Tinkerbell folder and packages of candy. "And here are the keys."


Their eyes widened and they looked at us in awe. "Dude, you got their keys?"


Never in my life have I felt so bad-A.


After clearing up that we had not copied the keys (which is apparently not allowed), we handed them the Love Spell body mist, which they proceeded to spray on each other, declaring their satisfaction with the smell. Gosh I love boys.


"Ok so I guess we'll just meet you back here at three for our stuff?"


The boys nodded, still studying our lip-stick ridden notes. "Oh," they grabbed some candy from a bin. "Happy Valentine's Day."


Merrin and I walked happily back to our house, texting the boys to meet us for lunch if they weren't in class to make sure everything went off without a hitch.


In short, everything did not go off without a hitch. There were many hitches. To cover for all of them we had to make up this whole story about me trying to give a boy I liked a Valentine and him rejecting me. It was way embarrassing and entirely Merrin's fault, so I don't understand why sheee couldn't have the fake boyfriend break up with her on Valentine's Day, but whatever.


Around this time Lynn texted me, demanding who had his keys. Busted. I told him that I couldn't reveal who it was because of girl code. Later Lynn came over and told us what happened on his end....


He was sitting peacefully in his room when two crazed men burst through his door, arms full of girly items. Upon seeing him they fled, yelling things like, "Abort mission! Abort, ABORT!" Thoroughly confused, Lynn remained in his room for a few minutes until someone knocked on his door.


Warily opening it, he was relieved to see just his next door neighbor. "Hey man, could you help me with an English paper?"


"Sure! Bring it on over." Lynn said helpfully.


"Actually, I was thinking we could work on it over at my house."


Lynn thought this was a little weird, but his next-door neighbor needed help! He could not deny him. "Umm....ok."


He soon found that his neighbor did not really need any help, but he figured he was just being a little shy about his paper and that one day he would produce it so he could help him edit it. Finally after awhile of awkward conversation, Lynn decided it was time to go back. But when he stepped out into the hallway he saw why his neighbor had been acting so strangely. His door was covered in hearts.


Inside his divinely-smelling room conversation hearts and dove chocolates and paper hearts were scattered all over the floor. A few minutes later, the same two boys who had so rudely interrupted his life earlier walked in and tossed him his keys, explaining that some girls had paid them to decorate his room for Valentine's Day.


Haha :) Lynn thinks that a girl in our ward had asked us to get the keys for her so she could decorate. I think he's slightly suspicious, but not enough to do anything. I like to think we were pretty convincing liars.


So a little after 3pm I showed up in the lobby of Biddulph Hall, looking for the mystery boys who had so graciously helped us. They weren't there.


I went over to Michelle's seeking advice. It was also a cover-up because Lynn showing up with his keys really rocked our world so I faked a rendezvous with the girls responsible for his "heart attack."


Michelle handed me a ward directory and we looked for boys who resembled our helpers who also lived on the third floor of Biddulph. Finally we found a match. Nervously I called the number under "Tyler." I ended up leaving a message, but a few minutes later he called back.


"Tyler! Did you help Merrin and I earlier today with Valentine's at Biddulph?"


"....No."


"Oh. Ok. Thanks! Happy Valentine's Day."


So. Sad.


Michelle's roommate suggested I just call everyone in Biddulph on the menu, but I could not bring myself to do it.


Merrin and I went back today and they stillll weren't there. We left them a note that said,

BOYS! You know who you are.

We need our cute folder and Love Spell body mist back!

Please call us-

1234567890 (not really, I put my actual number)

We're hoping it falls into the right hands because I really miss my Love Spell body mist :(

So happy Valentine's Day! I hope it wasn't as adventurous as mine <3

Managing Finances with Dr. Seuss

So for my math class (which, bytheway, is the BEST math class EVER!) we are learning about finances. I could learn a thing or two about money, because I have been pretty foolish in the past, so I was very glad when we came upon this section. We have a project and it is relatively easy-looking. We have to get up in front of the class for like, two seconds and talk about financial advice. My teacher said it could be a video or a quote or a scripture or a story.


Thattt sparked my attention. "A story?!" I thought excitedly. "I loveee stories." I immediately thought of my favorite children's story- The Lorax. I re-read it and it seemed more about taking care of the environment than anything else. However you could argue that taking care of the environment was the same as taking care of the Once-ler's investments, since the truffula trees were his investments. Hmm....But thennn I remembered the Spring Trip! We went to this part of Disney World that was like, Dr. Seuss town and it was freakin awesome. So anyway there was this story on the walls for people to read while they waited in line. It was called The Sneetches. Please read....



Now, the Star-Bell Sneetches had bellies with stars.
The Plain-Belly Sneetches had none upon thars.
Those stars weren’t so big. They were really so small.
You might think such a thing wouldn’t matter at all.

But, because they had stars, all the Star-Belly Sneetches
Would brag, “We’re the best kind of Sneetch on the beaches.”
With their snoots in the air, they would sniff and they’d snort
“We’ll have nothing to do with the Plain-Belly sort!”
And, whenever they met some, when they were out walking,
They’d hike right on past them without even talking.

When the Star-Belly children went out to play ball,
Could a Plain Belly get in the game? Not at all.
You only could play if your bellies had stars
And the Plain-Belly children had none upon thars.

When the Star Belly Sneetches had frankfurter roasts
Or picnics or parties or marshmallow toasts,
They never invited the Plain-Belly Sneetches
They left them out cold, in the dark of the beaches.
They kept them away. Never let them come near.
And that’s how they treated them year after year.

Then ONE day, it seems while the Plain-Belly Sneetches
Were moping and doping alone on the beaches,
Just sitting there wishing their bellies had stars,
A stranger zipped up in the strangest of cars!

“My friends”, he announced in a voice clear and clean,
“My name is Sylvester McMonkey McBean.
And I’ve heard of Your troubles. I’ve heard you’re unhappy.
But I can fix that, I’m the Fix-It-Up Chappie. 
I’ve come here to help you.
I have what you need.
And my prices are low. And I work with great speed.
And my work is one hundred per cent guaranteed!”

Then, quickly, Sylvester McMonkey McBean
Put together a very peculiar machine.
And he said, “You want stars like a Star-Belly Sneetch?
My friends, you can have them for three dollars each!”

“Just pay me your money and hop right aboard!”
So they clambered inside. Then the big machine roared.
And it klonked. And it bonked. And it jerked. And it berked.
And it bopped them about. But the thing really worked!
When the Plain-Belly Sneetches popped out, they had stars!
They actually did. They had stars upon thars!

Then they yelled at the ones who had stars at the start,
"We're exactly like you! You can't tell us apart.
We're all just the same, now, you snooty old smarties!
And now we can go to your frankfurter parties."


"Good grief!" groaned the ones who had stars on at the first. “We’re still the best Sneetches and they are the worst.
But now, how in the world will we know”, they all frowned,
“If which kind is what, or the other way round?”

Then up came McBean with a very sly wink. 
And he said, “Things are not quite as bad as you think. 
So you don’t know who’s who. That is perfectly true.
But come with me, friends. Do you know what I’ll do?
I’ll make you, again, the best Sneetches on the beaches.
And all it will cost you is ten dollars eaches.”

“Belly stars are no longer in style”, said McBean.
“What you need is a trip through my Star-Off Machine.
This wondrous contraption will take OFF your stars
so you won’t look like Sneetches that have them on thars.”
And that handy machine working very precisely
Removed all the stars from their tummies quite nicely.

Then, with snoots in the air, they paraded about.
And they opened their beaks and they let out a shout,
“We know who is who! Now there Isn’t a doubt.
The best kind of Sneetches are Sneetches without!”

Then, of course, those with stars got all frightfully mad.
To be wearing a star was frightfully bad.
Then, of course, old Sylvester McMonkey McBean
invited THEM into his Star-Off Machine.

Then, of course from THEN on, as you probably guess,
Things really got into a horrible mess.

All the rest of that day, on those wild screaming beaches,
The Fix-It-Up Chappie kept fixing up Sneetches.
Off again! On again! In again! Out again!
Through the machines they raced round and about again,

Changing their stars every minute or two. They kept paying money.
They kept running through until the Plain nor the Star-Bellies knew
Whether this one was that one or that one was this one. Or which one
Was what one or what one was who.

Then, when every last cent of their money was spent,
The Fix-It-Up Chappie packed up. And he went.
And he laughed as he drove In his car up the beach,
“They never will learn. No. You can’t Teach a Sneetch!”

But McBean was quite wrong. I’m quite happy to say.
That the Sneetches got really quite smart on that day.
The day they decided that Sneetches are Sneetches.
And no kind of Sneetch is the best on the beaches.
That day, all the Sneetches forgot about stars and whether
They had one, or not, upon thars.


So anyway I loveee this story! So I'm not gonna read the whole thing to the class, because Brother Snell mightt dump a bucket of water on my head for taking up the entire class time. So I'm gonna read the lines that are written in blue.


And then I'ma talk. This is prolly what I'll say....


Soo I really like this story because even though it's about Sneetches it can be applied to our finances. There is a quote and I couldn't find who said it but it is something like, "Don't spend your money on that which has no worth." And ultimately that is exactly what the Sneetches did. They spent everything on a fashion trend and it really didn't matter if they had stars on thars or not because the next moment they were out of style and they went back and did it all again. So it was really just silly of them. But at least in the end they learned a good lesson?? "That Sneetches are Sneetches and no kind of Sneetch is best on the beaches." But it prolly would've been better for them if they had figured it out pre-bankruptcy.

Unexpectantly Romantic

I was revisiting my childhood just now and I listened to this song, Forever and Ever. Listen to it! It's in Pooh's Grand Adventure, one of my very favorite movies. This song is so innocent and child-like, but it struck me as I listened that it can also be romantic. I think my husband and I will sing it to each other <3


Also, I know I'm a music freak but ohmigosh listen to the orchestra! Sooo beautiful. It's this kind of thing that makes me want to do nothing but practice until I'm good enough to be in the Czech Philharmonic Chamber Orchestra or something.

Things that make a man INSTANTLY attractive

1. An accent. How many guys have I had a crush on simply by virtue of his ah-mazing accent? Toooo many.

2. Scruff. Just a lil.
3. A spine.
4. A lovely tenor singing voice.

5. NOT a salesman. Unless your name is Jim Halpert. Only exception.

6. Sense of humor. See also next pic of a guy from Harvard Sailing Team.

7. Dark, curly hair.

8. NOT blue or green eyes. Nice brown eyes.
9. Brains.

10. If he happens to be royalty.

11. Kindness.
12. Not charming. It makes you think he's lying.
13. Completely himself. If he just puts it out there.

14. if his name is Ryan Reynolds.

15. Those Darcy-esque old England white shirts.
16. Especially if you are Mr Darcy

17. If he's a cowboy

18. A nice jaw.

19. Jack Sparrow.

20. If you are a well-meaning man who also happens to be a pirate.

21. If you can shoot a gun and drive a mini cooper like nobody's business.

22. If he's adorably devoted to you.

23. Men in uniform.

<3

GW = BS Part 2

So in my foundations of science class my teacher asked us what we thought about global warming, and if it was an important issue or anything. I was very tired when I did this part of the homework, but I still mean everything I said, even though for a college-level science class I suppose I could've been more formal, and I can only imagine the look in my adorable, mild-tempered teacher's face when he read this....

No, I don't think so. The reason I just really don't care is because of that movie by Al Gore, I forget what it's called. I just remember sitting in my freshman science class room in high school and watching that movie and all my classmates were eating it up and I just was watching it and trying to understand it and I just didn't get why the rise of temperature by a few degrees every hundred years was so bad. And then Al Gore talked about how it's our fault because of greenhouse emissions and I just thought that was very hypocritical of him because he goes around in private jets and fancy cars and I just don't understand why a man who claims the existence of such a huge issue would contribute so much to it. And that is why I don't care about "global warming," because if it was really that bad Al Gore would be walking everywhere, not jetting off places.

Also, I don't think it is a huge issue because I have never had a teacher explain it very well to me. In all my high school science classes, my teacher would say that greenhouse emissions were making it very warm, and that this was bad. But then last year we had a hugely cold winter, and a lot of snow. So we all came back from our fourteen days of no school due to snow days with the same question- where was global warming when we got three feet of snow dumped on our street? And so we asked, and our teachers said that this was global warming too, and that it works both ways- it makes the Earth hot and cold. Well after years of having global WARMING drilled into my head, this did not make sense, and of course I became more skeptical of this warming and cooling of the Earth and how it is all my fault.

Poor man.

I love good writing

Satirical essays were my forte in school. So when I read this article from a 1989 People magazine, I almost peed my pants.


Some people are just born victims. Take Zsa Zsa Gabor. "People are always picking on me," says Gabor, sitting regally in the living room of her $15 million Bel Air home, smoothing her pink chiffon pants. Take last June 14. There she was, tooling down Beverly Hills' La Cienega Boulevard in her convertible Rolls-Royce Corniche, when up pops a cop on a motorcycle telling her to pull over. Something about expired registration tags. Zsa Zsa did as she was bid—she has been stopped by policemen before. "Usually they say, 'Zsa Zsa, what's the matter, are you married these days, do you want to marry me?' " says Gabor. Not this guy. Without so much as a sociable "I loved your Pee-wee Herman special," Officer Paul Kramer ordered an up-close of her license. Well! 

Gabor fished it out of her glove compartment, but as it turned out, it had expired. A bad start. One thing led to another, most of which are in dispute, but it seems safe to say that after the two exchanged unpleasantries and had a little road chase, Kramer told Zsa Zsa to get out of her $110,000 coupé. When she did, she slapped him across the face, knocking his regulation sunglasses to the ground. That did it. Kramer arrested Gabor and called for backup to take her to the station. He handcuffed her so tightly, she claimed, she had to cancel a charity appearance because her wrists were an unsightly black and blue. Despite the two broken fingernails—never recovered—she got up the pluck to host a dinner for 36 a few days later. A sheer act of will. 

The bruises may be gone, but the skirmish isn't over yet. This Monday, Gabor squares off with Kramer again—this time in a Beverly Hills municipal courtroom. In The People of the State of California vs. Zsa Zsa Gabor, the Hungarian-born defendant, 70ish, is charged with five offenses: battery upon an officer, disobeying an officer, driving without registration, driving without a license and having an open container of alcohol. (That silver flask of bourbon in the glove compartment belongs to her eighth and current husband, Prince Frederick von Anhalt, of West Germany. "Sometimes I use it to sweeten my Diet Pepsi," he explains.) 

Zsa Zsa admits that the license was outdated. As for the registration, not only had she paid it ("It gives me a heart attack to write the check"), she had overpaid it, causing a bureaucratic bungle that left her with outdated tags. Of all the luck. 

And that disobedience charge is just the result of a cultural misunderstanding. While Kramer was running her license by the folks back at HQ and finding out that her registration had expired too, Zsa Zsa got antsy. After 12 minutes, according to the police report, she shouted, "You are an a——. I'm leaving," and sped off. According to Gabor, she asked what was taking so long, Kramer told her to "[Bleep] off," and Zsa Zsa took him literally. "On my word of honor, I thought he meant I should go," she says. "That's what they say in London, and that's where I was raised." 

Zsa Zsa has always had a remarkable knack for self-defense, and what a handy skill it has been. Last January she was removed from a Delta Airlines flight for letting her Shih Tzu loose in the first-class cabin. "He was in a Louis Vuitton carrying case the whole time," Zsa Zsa maintains. "My dear, the stewardess hated me." Months before that, she threw entertainment reporter Claudia Cohen (wife of megabucks Revlon chief Ron Perelman) out of the Regis Philbin Show dressing room and marched on-camera calling Cohen a bitch in front of millions of viewers. "I had no idea the cameras were on," demurs Gabor. In 1982 she made headlines for demanding that a row of handicapped people be moved to the back of a Philadelphia theater where she was performing. It was an usher, she says, who moved what she calls the "paraleptics. The theater owner, a terrible man, wanted me to take the rap." Victimized again. 

Or is it just that Zsa Zsa's behavior can be a tad, well, strange? Last summer author Jim Bacon was three months into an authorized biography of Gabor when her agent, Al Lowman, said that she wanted the story told through the eyes of her dogs. "In that case," said Bacon, "I'll bow-wow out." Not that Zsa Zsa is without her supporters. Take S.P.A.A.Z.Z., an Orlando, Fla.-based group of six friends who decided to form the Society for the Prevention of Anything Against Zsa Zsa as a protest against her recent traffic arrest. "We're trying hard to stop the senseless Zsa Zsa bashing that is going on," declares S.P.A.A.Z.Z. president Paul Spread-bury, who has sold 70 FREE ZSA ZSA, DAHLING kits—including a T-shirt, bumper sticker and banner—for $19.95. 

"I like her as a person and think she's a good lady," says Larry King, who recently had Gabor on his TV show, "but we all have to get a little older, and Zsa Zsa refuses to see that. Poodles on leashes being walked by doormen is yesterday. I guess it must be very hard on her." 

Zsa Zsa does keep herself busy. "I am a businesswoman," she says, which is not to be confused with a Beverly Hills bistro-going luncheonaire. "All those [women] do is talk about each other, badly: who had a face-lift, who has a lover, who is too fat, whose dress is not as expensive as Ivana Trump's. I don't like that." Gabor swears that she never had a face-lift. Okay. One chin tuck. "I have no time to think about wrinkles and all those idiotic things," she says. Except maybe when she's endorsing her Zsa Zsa mail order face cream. Or her line of Zsa Zsa jewelry that stars a $39 knockoff of one of her own rings and may eventually include a whole "Royal Collection" of Zsa Zsa jewels. 

At the moment, Zsa Zsa's planning a dinner for Barry Humphries, the Australian comedian. "He's not gay but he wears women's clothing [onstage]," she explains. The big question is, should Liz Taylor be invited? "She's such an unfriendly person sometimes," Zsa Zsa says. And once, Zsa Zsa was disinvited, believe it or not, from a party in Palm Beach because Liz "didn't want the competition." No wonder. "Did you see the pictures of her at Malcolm Forbes's party?" asks Gabor. "At the age of 57, she doesn't have to be this old-looking." Liz is off the list. 

Zsa Zsa simply doesn't get old. In fact, she often gets younger. The driver's license she gave to Officer Kramer had been physically altered to change her birthdate from 6/6/23 (already suspect) to 2/6/28. "You can say I'm full of s—, but don't say I'm old," she says. 

Zsa Zsa's traffic court appearance is just one more trial to bear. Slapping Officer Kramer was an intuitive kind of thing. Although he claims that Gabor said, "You are an a——-, you are a f—er," when he told her to get out of the car, she says he said, "Get out, you f—," and grabbed her wrist. "It was like Nazi Germany," says Zsa Zsa. "They killed half of the gorgeous girls. You should have seen the hatred in his eyes." So she slapped him. "This is a woman's reaction," she says. "I admit I have a Hungarian temper. Why not? I am from Hungary. We are descendants of Genghis Khan and Attila the Hun." The defense rests. 

—Margot Dougherty, David Marlow, Robin Micheli and tee Wohlfert in Los Angeles