Living in the headquarters of ModBod and Vivint really bums me out

I am tired of living in Provo.

David gets mad at me every time I say this. Well, not mad exactly, but he does try to talk me out of it, which invariably leads to some kind of mad-like emotion on one of our parts (or...just mine). I concede that our situation could be worse. We could be living in Orem. Or Eagle Mountain. Really, of all places in Utah Valley that we could be living, Provo is right up at the top. I like many things about Provo, most of them existing south of 700 North. I like the overwrought burgers at Sammy's. I like the look of Center Street. I like that there is a place called "The Sensuous Sandwich". I like the public library.

But enough of optimism. I don't write blog posts with some kind of pretense that I am anything other than what I am: cynical. But, I swear, that cynicism is mostly backlash against the exuberance I see bursting forth from all the chipper co-eds surrounding me. (Picture me going forth, all Ebenezer Scrooge-like, to the local Smith's, bah humbug-ing the innocent BYU freshman. They're just trying to have a good time, discussing in Valley Girl dialects the merits of various brands of yogurt. Why must I be so wench-like? But alas.)

Here's what it is: I am freaked out. It's the teeth: that unnatural non-shade of white. Teeth that glow as the bodies they inhabit cosmic bowl at Fat Cats on a Monday night. And the hair: hair is not supposed to be that straight. I see them walking together, all those heads of unbending hair, as though they are on their way to a support-group meeting for Chi addicts. The fumes from their Frizz Ease serum make me sick. This must be the only place on earth where people are still wearing Ugg boots. Not even Ugg boots—knock-off fur-lined beasts available in 4 pastel shades at your nearest Payless Shoe Source. And then there are the t-shirts.

T-shirts. Not since the birth of that creepy guy who owns American Apparel has the t-shirt been so happy as it is here in Utah Valley. Am I the only Mormon girl who has never had trouble finding a modest t-shirt? Is this really such an issue? Must there be entire companies—not one, but many—who specialize in selling modest t-shirts? Cap sleeves! Three-quarter length sleeves! Puff sleeves! Under-tanks! Under-tees! Half tees! In all the colors of the rainbow! And lace tees! Because there aren't enough layers for us to wear—no, no, there must be another in the form of a sheer lace shirt whose sole purpose is to make the rest of my wardrobe (which consists entirely of modest t-shirts by the way) look FANCY! Because I cannot be bothered to just buy a blouse that looks fancy! I would rather layer a bunch of poly-cotton-spandex tees on top of a shirt that consists only of brightly-colored lace!

So I guess what I really take issue with is not so much Provo, but its inhabitants. I've only mentioned the girls, but I could go on about the boys as well (security alarm-selling tools, the lot of them, with their flat-brimmed hats and their talk of entrepreneurship). I'm not going anywhere with this post. I'm not even going to try to conclude it. Bah humbug.