Do Not Provoke When Sleepy

I went home this weekend to spend some time with a friend of mine who is going to be moving down south next month.  On Friday night, after having been home for only a couple of hours, I decided to take a bath (which is always a must, because my parents have this ridiculously amazing bathtub.  I could seriously fit three of me in it).  So I start the water running, and I get in even though the water isn't very hot. 
Well, the tub gets about a third of the way full before the water starts running cold.  Yes. Cold.  The ends of my hair are wet, but my scalp is dry.  And I'm only partially submerged and freezing.  So I get out of the tub, wrap myself up in a towel, and my exhaustion from having not slept well in two or three days due to unexplained nausea hits me like a freight train.
I walk out into the living room and start to almost cry: "Mom. . . Dad. . . There's no hot water and I just want to take a bath and go to bed and I'm really sleepy".  This kind of behavior was probably cute when I was 6, but I'm 21.
So my dad goes downstairs to fire up the second water heater, and I go back into the bathroom to keep my feet warm in the water and play scrabble on my phone.  Twenty minutes later, there's still no hot water.  I almost start to cry again.  So I get the blow dryer and start drying the wet ends of my hair and end up pointing the blow dryer at my body to try to get warm again.
But then I thought: hey, it's not the end of the world.  I'll have a bath tomorrow.  And at least I'm not in the Congo or somewhere where I work all day just go have enough to eat to fuel me for the next workday so I can have enough to eat for the next workday.
But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't still cranky and almost crying by the time I crawled, half-damp, into bed.  I swear, I need more sleep than a newborn.

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This Is Why I'm Hot. . . Errr. . . . Single

So once upon a time there was a girl named Whitney. And she was the most oblivious girl in the entire world. Oh, you think I'm kidding?

This summer, Chris and I went to go pick up a pizza and these really very forward Islander guys were like "HEY THERE, do you know any good clubs around here?" And I, being the friendly, local-looking girl that I am, assumed that they really wanted to know where the good clubs were. So I told them that Provo wasn't really the best place for clubs and they should hit up Salt Lake and to have a nice day. We got in the car and Chris just stared at me, kind of bewildered, and was like: "Whitney, they were hitting on you."

Oh.

Kind of like there is this guy that I know from this place (I don't want to be too specific here), and he keeps flirting with me like once a week, and I don't even realize it until fifteen minutes later. So, guy that i know from this place, it's not because I would say no if you asked me out! It's just that I'm oblivious and I need a neon sign, okay?

And I thought boys were stupid. . .