I'm going to gloat.

Are you aware that I literally have the best birthday in the year?

I do.

Not only do I share a birthday with Stephen King and comedic genius Bill Murray,
my birthday is also of significance in the LDS religion (Moroni appearing to Joseph Smith).

In addition, my birthday is the perfect placement in avoiding a summer birthday when no one is around to celebrate with you, and being early enough so as not to get mushed in with all the Fall holidays.

Oh but speaking of Fall, my favorite season by the way, I can legitimately say
"It's not Fall until my birthday hits."
That's right. September 21st is the Autumn Equinox. My birthday is literally the start of the best time of year.

See what I mean? I have the best birthday.

Brr!

So I'm recovering from getting my wisdom teeth out this past Thursday. Overall it hasn't been too bad. I was a freakin disaster when I woke up from anesthesia, crying and talking all kinds of nonsense, but after some meds and sleeping it off I felt great.
Yesterday my jaw started to get pretty sore and I've been icing and dosing regularly so it'll subside a little but I get really sore and dizzy from the medicine anyway so I'm not quite back to normal.

So today to bide the time my new good friend Mercedes came over and we made Mac and Cheese, and are currently sitting cozy in bed having a Vampire Diaries marathon!
I love it.

I'm also coloring in my Disney Princess coloring book, because I'm classy and sophisticated, and mature.

frozen edamame, you are my best friend.
wisdom teeth are out, jaw is officially hurting.

job interview tomorrow 11am.
yipee.

GREAT NEWS.

during a conversation with a friend about school, I had an epiphany.

drumroll.......

Here is what I want to do with my life, as revealed by skype:
[please don't take this too seriously...coughmomcough]


Erin Dean: oh!
Erin Dean: guess what!

Christy Hoffmann: what??

Erin Dean: i might have a clue of what to do with college

Christy Hoffmann: oh weally?

Erin Dean: well, im closer lol
Erin Dean: i was looking up the requirements for all the majors and stuff
Erin Dean: im one class away from having a theater minor and a coincidental creative writing minor
Erin Dean: so i was like shoot i should just make it an IDS major and be like... i wanna be a screeenwriter...?

Christy Hoffmann: yeah!

Erin Dean: i mean i feel like it would be fun and if it got approved id be out of there in a year
Erin Dean: so im thinking either that or i might try social work rather than teaching

Christy Hoffmann: how come?

Erin Dean: cuz i love english and all but the reason i wanna be a teacher is for the interaction and helping the kids more than being excited about the material and ive always wanted to be involved with a group for underprivileged kids or like inner city after school programs
Erin Dean: so that might be better

Christy Hoffmann: canʻt you do that in a teaching environment?

Erin Dean: yeah but then i have to make them do homework and stuff
Erin Dean: and then grade it
Erin Dean: id rather play board games with them

Christy Hoffmann: lol
Christy Hoffmann: good reason

Erin Dean: ill start a new boys and girls club called "lets play some board games"

Christy Hoffmann: letʻs play clue: a inner-city initiative to solve real crimes from the streets while providing kids with a safe environment

Erin Dean: you are amazing.
Erin Dean: im cutting you in



there you have it, my future.

for as much as I've done this summer, I'm really surprised I haven't been writing on here more. I don't know, everything has been very fun and memorable, but nothing I feel particularly inclined to write about. I'm not sure if it's because I can't think of something interesting to say aside from just recounting details of trips and adventures or if I'm just content enough with everything that I don't need this outlet anymore.
whatever it is, I don't like that I've stopped writing. I'm not academically-minded at the moment because i know I don't have to be. I came home in April knowing I wouldn't return to school for another two years. That alone is a strange feeling.

Every fall since 1995 I've started preparing for the school year. I have always been in school. I'm not sure what it will feel like to not attend class, not have homework, not worry about grades. And since becoming accustomed to school away from home, it's definitely been an adjustment living at home for this long. I guess I can only say I expect it to be....strange.
It's a completely new experience.
Bur whether it's good or bad, I hope it doesn't last long. I'm really eager to just have my mission papers turned in the first week of October, and then be on my way as soon as possible.

Here's the Situation.

All right, I been busy. It is what it is. Also I had absolutely nothing I felt inclined to blog about, but I've missed it and been looking for something I felt excited enough to write about.

So instead of taking out the trash like I should be, or going to bed like I should be, I'm going to tell you how much I love....


wait for it....








that's right! Jersey Shore!

There is absolutely no way to fully explain why or how I love that show. It's kind of a guilty pleasure that I don't feel guilty about at all. In fact I sort of revel in it and flaunt it because for some reason or other, people never expect me to love the show so much.
In fact, as I type, I'm watching/mostly listening to Season 2 [Miami].
This show. Gosh, sometimes it leaves me speechless. It's just... perfection. The epitome of everything that could possibly be wrong with the generation, showcased in the best way.

wow, sorry, got sucked in. Snooki just had camera time and said, I kid you not, "They're being sympathetic. Yeah, sympathetic. Word of the day, sympathetic."
If you didn't laugh something is wrong with you. Her ignorance is astounding to the point of being adorable.

She also has gems like this one:


On the topic of being hilariously quotable, Pauly D is also quite the comedian. It's not so much the words he says as the facial expression and tone of voice combo that are better than a classic burger and fries.
"Cabs are here"
"T-shirt time"
and this one, are just a few priceless Pauly D moments.
and goodness, that hair. I'm not sure where he gets his gel but I'm fairly certain it's stronger than cement, just sayin. I've never once caught a glimpse of his hair in any other shape. Amazing.
There are so many funny moments that I forget them all so quickly and have to just continue watching the episodes over and over again.



But seriously, the entire cast interacting with each other is what it's all about. While Snooki, Pauly D, Mike the Situation, and the Ron/Sammy crazystorm are entertaining on their own, the best parts come out of the entire cast being together. All the drunken mistakes and nights out at Karma brought them so close. Deep down they really are just one big happy not at all dysfunctional family. As pictured below.


haha did you love it? That's my favorite picture of the cast. Yes I have a favorite out of all of them.

Well anyway, the main reason for this post is to express to all 12 of you just how excited I am for the premiere of the fourth season, shot in Italy. A high school acquaintance, and facebook friend, of mine spent the spring/summer in Firenze doing I'm not sure what, but a lot of sight seeing and girls' nights out were involved. I love Europe so while I was stalking her pictures I witnessed something amazing.
You know that six degrees of separation thing? I'm officially only two degrees away from the cast of Jersey Shore. [one degree? I dunno how that system works, but I'm one person away] That's right folks. Amongst all those pictures of beautiful Italian buildings and toasting at dinner were pictures in a night club where the cast were partying. She had pictures of all of them! I hadn't envied someone like that since I found out in the fifth grade that my neighbor is related to Justin Timberlake. Fifth cousin twice removed? Still counts!
Screw amazing experiences having to do with living in Italy for a summer, she got to meet the cast of Jersey Shore. THAT is truly once in a lifetime. Italy will always be there. Except maybe Venice in a few decades...

Whether they or anyone else likes it or not, the Jersey Shore cast are always going to be in my heart. My obsession with them is worse than Helga's with Hey Arnold. Next thing you know I'll have busts of each of them sculpted out of gum hiding in my closet. [That really always creeped me out about Helga. How are you that level of creeper at such a young age??]

So to conclude, I might be somewhat well-adjusted for social appearances, but I go bat-sh*t crazy every time the 30 second promos come on MTV.
I scream every time.

I hope you all will join me in spirit Thursday, August 4th, for Jersdays 4.0
and yes I will be skipping institute to watch it. Hope that's not my last straw for damnation...

Happy Father's Day

My father is a meticulous man. In my eyes he is a genius. I have yet to meet anyone as unnervingly smart and formal as my father. He has a somewhat hard demeanor. Those who do not know him well have the serious misfortune of never meeting the surprisingly silly side of him. I always found him somewhat intimidating because of that initial hard exterior that others see.

It wasn’t until recent years that my understanding of him grew significantly past the exterior, yet growing up I always knew there was something buried inside that I wanted to know. Glimpses of my father’s alternate demeanor often came in the kitchen, watching him create desserts worthy of naming masterpieces.

Growing up I always loved to watch my father bake. He is widely known, in every neighborhood we’ve inhabited, for his set of remarkable desserts. There are many, and they are always the same: Chocolate Cake, Williamsburg Orange Cake, Lemon Pound Cake (my favorite). And then there are his pies. He truly loves making pies. Every holiday, our family and various other families at church or down the street are graced with a selection of homemade pies. On Thanksgiving, the true pie holiday, there is always a debate—which pies will be kept for the family and which will be given away. This is no easy decision. Between the usual pumpkin, pecan, chocolate, lemon meringue and apple, none is outstanding above the rest. Each is delicious and homely and somehow makes the holiday sweeter for much more than our taste buds.

Not only are my father’s pies a great dessert, they are a labor of love. My father is not always an emotionally open man. I have never seen my father truly cry and can count the close calls on my hands. While he has always been a loving and caring father, his inner-emotions stay somewhat buried beneath his solid, stern exterior. Perhaps as a substitute for certain verbal expression, he gifts desserts to those he holds dear: close family friends through the years, the woman who held my mother’s hand during a heart attack, our ward Bishop/home-teacher. For them he works diligently for hours in the kitchen. He takes no shortcuts, and his devotion to the project is crystal clear. My father’s pies are a process, a ritual, and a message. His pies say, “You have helped me through struggles. You have been a friend to laugh with. You have influenced my life for the better. You have made an impact.”

My father’s pies are not only for the recipients, they are for him. His ritual of pie-making seems a genuine therapy. There is no mistaking the happiness and peace baking a pie brings him. The steps are always the same, and the set-up never changing. I recall sitting on a stool behind the kitchen bar, watching him roll out a pie crust, when I first took a mental inventory of the mandatory details. In this particular case, he was making an apple pie. Definitely an apple, his pride and joy. While my father is extremely proud of his accomplishments, his experiences, and his wife and children, I think he receives the same amount of gratification with every perfect apple pie he removes from the oven. Those pies are special to him. They are a part of him.

While my memory cannot recollect any details of the actual pie recipe, it does include the details that hold actual importance. In my memory, I see giant bowls of bright-green Granny Smiths, skins reflecting the over-head lights, waiting to be peeled. I watch the movement of a halved apple down my father’s palm as it’s being sliced into smaller pieces. I hear the 10^th Anniversary Concert edition of Les Miserables booming from speakers as well as his open mouth as he sings along with Javier and Valjean. I smell the combination of cinnamon, sugar, nutmeg, and flour—the mixture coating the sliced apples as they go into the hand-rolled crust. I feel the roll of my eyes in reaction to one of his cringe-inducing puns. I listen to his voice asking in a mock-defensive tone, “Would you rather your dad be an old fart who has no fun?” I watch the meticulous placement of the top crust over a mound of seasoned apples and the perfect rotation of the pie as bottom and top crusts are evenly pinched together around the rim. Most of all, I see in perfect detail, the jovial smile on my father’s face throughout the entire process.

This is the man I call my father. This baker, this goofball, this baritone. This man, who despite what a misleading exterior may convey, pours love and passion and humor into everything. Even something as simple as an apple pie. How lucky I have been, to sit on a kitchen stool, and watch the mystery and majesty of my father bake to perfection at 425°F