Dead men tell no tales...

As I was studying for my stats final, I noticed this little snippet off to the side of one of the textbook pages. I thought it was funny.

"A study of deaths in bar fights showed that in 90% of the cases, the person who died started the fight. You shouldn’t believe this. If you killed someone in a fight, what would you say when the police ask you who started the fight? After all, dead men tell no tales."

Ha.

This quote alone may improve my opinion of statistics.

Random Things

These first couple are pictures I took when I've been on campus here at BYU the last few weeks.


I did indeed push the button. I can't say my entire day after that turned miraculously awesome... but oh well.


I took this like two weeks ago in the library! Too soon, I say! Too soon!




This screen saver in the computer lab creeped me out BIG TIME one morning when I was printing out an assignment before my 8 o'clock class. Sorry to whoever this guy is.




This is the beautiful Rose that Carlos got me for our 3-month-iversary. He said it reminded him of me. Yes, he's very cheesy. And, yes, I kind of like it.




Here's some of the handsome guys I hang around with everyday. Carlos and his nephew Esteban.



And, finally.... aren't we cute?

Okay, enough. 'Till next post.

I bought leopard-print stretch pants yesteday!

don't worry... it's just for my Halloween constume. I'm very excited for this year...

Fate

Why is it that my moisturizer, mascara, deodorant, and contact solution all run out at the same time... every time? It's like a cosmic aligning of the planets, but instead of being for my ultimate benefit or fulfillment of destiny, all it means is that I'm out like 30 bucks all at once.

"Nobody 'Cept You"

Well, I had a dream a few nights ago. Let me just say it was a glorious, glorious dream. I was over at someone's apartment hanging out, and they asked me if I was going to the enrichment activity next door, which started in just a few minutes. I had not been aware that there was an enrichment activity, but I said sure, and went next door and sat down. Turns out the activity was Bob Dylan coming to perform for us! THE Bob Dylan!

Wait. It gets better.

Not only was Bob Dylan two feet away from me, singing song after song, strumming his guitar, as I sang along (because my super-power happens to be knowing the lyrics to EVERY song ever)... but I was the only person who showed up to the activity!

I know! Right?

Me and Bob Dylan. Just the two of us. Basically he was serenading me.

And, he wasn't old and ugly-looking like he kind of is in real life. He was handsome and had very blue eyes.

Then, after he'd played a few songs, he got up to go... but before he left he took some coupons out of his pocket and handed them to me. They were for some random store I think.

"They say 40% off, " he said, "but tell them they're from me, and you'll get it for free." Then he winked at me and walked out of the room.

The rest of my dream I don't remember... but i do know that the entire time I kept thinking how jealous Haley would be when I told her I got a private concert with Bob Dylan. Her upcoming jealousy made me sooo happy. (sorry Hay)

When I awoke in the morning and realized it had all been a dream, I was so angry.

Man I could have used those coupons...

This amused me...

PSYCHO

Um... I stumbled upon this beauty of a shower curtain online today. Kind of disturbing...

But it would be hilarious around Halloween-time.

Also, note the review that one satisfied customer left:

"Lightweight and easy to hang. Will look good in the bathroom with an assortment of body parts and blood."

It's finally happened. My first boyfriend from high school is getting married.

Wow.

But in reality, what's really surprising is that neither of us is married yet!

Well, congrats to him and his bride-to-be. She's lovely and he's deserving of all happiness.

Cops no longer make me break into a cold sweat

Deposited paycheck into my bank account.
Took car to the shop for safety and emissions testing. Also my left blinker blinks again, and I have a new O2 sensor. (120 bucks)
Worked on my quilt.
Biked 12 miles along the P. river trail.
Renewed registration for my car online. (47 bucks)
Paid the ticket I got a few weeks ago for having expired tags sans two late fees. (30 bucks)
Printed off temporary registration to stick in my back window at the public library. (ten cents)
Stuck it in my back window.
Bought a plane ticket for my visit home in August. (77 bucks)

I am feeling both very proud of all I got done today... and also very poor.

But it sure feels great to have a much shorter "To-Do List"!

I think I need a nap now.

Alpha, Bravo, Charlie...

I just woke up from a much-needed nap. It was glorious. Better yet, I realized when I awoke, that I had been doing a crossword puzzle in my dream. Well... I don't know if I would call it dreaming, because all I was doing was a crossword puzzle. I can't remember any of the clues, but I do remember that I felt extremely proud of myself for getting the last answer. "ZECTOR"

In my mind it was the Phonetic Alphabet term for the letter Z. But when I woke up I realized there is no such word as Zector. And in my sleepy state of mind, I thought, "Oh, that's funny, I confused it with the term for H, which is HECTOR!"

Nope, wrong again. H is HOTEL.

Perhaps it was a three-letter mix-up, because V is VICTOR? I don't really know.

Well anyways, I still feel that the answer was right in my dream, and I'm still proud I got it!

Here is the entire list, for your enjoyment. Maybe it will inspire an impromptu game of cops and robbers, or truck drivers...?

A ..........	ALPHA	N ..........	NOVEMBER
B ..........	BRAVO	O ..........	OSCAR
C ..........	CHARLIE	P ..........	PAPA
D ..........	DELTA	Q ..........	QUEBEC
E ..........	ECHO	R ..........	ROMEO
F ..........	FOXTROT	S ..........	SIERRA
G ..........	GOLF	T ..........	TANGO
H ..........	HOTEL	U ..........	UNIFORM
I ..........	INDIA	V ..........	VICTOR
J ..........	JULIET	W ..........	WHISKY
K ..........	KILO	X ..........	X-RAY
L ..........	LIMA	Y ..........	YANKEE
M ..........	MIKE	Z ..........	ZULU

"It's Dumbo!"

I bought some headphones on amazon yesterday. I wanted some that I could actually wear running without them falling out every 6 seconds. So, I looked around and read a lot of reviews from buyers... but how can you really know which reviewers you will agree with in the end? There are so many conflicting opinions!

Here are a few excerpts:

"They're very light and reasonably comfortable for something that's sticking just into your ear." "It needs to be mentioned that, with music playing all up in your eardrums, these things do a startling job at blocking out other noises, so be careful not to jog into a moving van or anything. Safety first!" "When I put these on, they make my ears hurt after only ten to fifteen minutes. " "These headphones are all right, but are not meant for people with small ears." "The real problem with these headphones is that they're seemingly programmed to break down after 90 days." "So I have funny shaped ears. They are kind of elfish so, needless to say, my ears don't take very well to ANY headphones unless they go on the outside of the ear. I can't wear earbuds at all. But these badboys are amazing."
Some LOVED these headphones, other HATED them... what was I to do? I bought them. We'll see, they were cheap at any rate.

But I've found myself pondering if I have small or big or medium sized ears and how that will affect the way these headphones fit me. If they fit me well, does that mean that I have man ears? Wouldn't it be cool if people had ear sizes and we could shop for headphones in our size... just like shoes and pants?

I wonder if I would be a size 3 1/2 like my sister Genuine...

And I hope i don't run into a moving van... Was that reviewer cautioning from experience?

He reminded me of Skyler Simnitt

I went to the midnight showing of HP6 last night. Yes, there were a lot of people dressed up in a variety of costumes. I kind of think the whole Harry Potter in a red/gold tie and black robes is getting a little old. So I was very delighted to see a man who was refreshingly original in his costume choice. He went as Dobby, the house elf. Yes, he wore two bedsheets, or something like that, tied at the corners. Just like in the above picture. It was a bit scandalous since he was probably 6'5", and that's a lot of skin to be showing when you're that big... but I still thought it was a great costume.

My group had matching t-shirts with slugs on them that said "Slug Club"

Actually, my friend pointed out that what we had on our shirts were in fact snails, not slugs... but oh well.

I contemplated how funny it would be to go to the movie dressed as Hagrid, (not Ginny Weasley or any other cute girl from the movie who I might look like naturally) but since I was going there on a blind date, I figured it would not be appropriate.

P.S. I suck at Wii multi-player Tetris.

Flatlined at 24... tsk tsk

I got "the" e-mail today. I looked at my inbox and right there, the very first one was labeled, "Decisions" from BYU Management. I had a mini-inner-freak-out. Okay, so it was a moderatly sized inner-freak-out. Whatever. I paced my room for a few minutes, and then decided to pray. I prayed for help to accept the outcome of their decision, no matter what it happens to be.

I sat back down in my desk chair, and clicked on "Decisions"...

Dear Student:

We are still in the process of reviewing your application. We should have an admissions decision available to you by this Friday afternoon. I will send you an email with the link to view your decision.

If you have any questions, please let me know. Thank you again for applying.

Sincerely,
So-and-so



Wow. Then I started breathing again.

It is my new goal in life to do something like this. Totally awesome.

Napping Kids

text message received June 04, 06:23 pm

"Hey this is Shelley, i'm so sorry for the short notice but something just came up that i have to take care of so i don't think i can help kidnap. I'm sorry, G.L."

I don't know anyone named Shelley...

But now I know who I won't be calling when I need help with my kidnapping capers.

To My Skin a poem by Maranda Miller

They may stare
At your glare
When bared in the Sunday sun,

And unwillingly try
To disguise their despise
At your nonconformity with the bronzed ones.

But I'll be your protector,
I'll deflect what you cannot
Take.

It is both for yours and for my
Sake.

I'm sorry I had to take sides
And hand over our pride to
Masked men in scrubs wielding scalpels,

Who accessorized with sutures;
Frankensteined you out of season.
March is far from October.
But I'm sober now for our future.

These UV's sting and stun and age you.
I've let those B's and A's
Abuse you before.

But not anymore.

Mom sends me these; vitamins A, E and D's.
She sees through my lucidity and
Worries to a motherly degree
About my vampire tendencies.

But she best not fret,
I'll never forget again
To "apply generously."

Two Latino boys came into the salon last night. They were probably around 14 years old, and were all spruced up and smelled suspiciously good. One of them asked if I would do them a huge favor, and let them use some hair gel. I paused to think about this. I've let people do this before, but it's not exactly smiled upon, because those products cost money and technically it's a 'service' we provide and would charge money for 'styling' someone's hair, etc. But I said okay, and asked them to wait there a second while I went around to my station to get the gel. They didn't know how to wait I guess, because they followed me around and 'hovered'; making me a bit uncomfortable. The one who asked for gel asked if I had any Tressemme gel or American Crew gel, but I told him, "No, I can only let you use Regis gel," and handed it to him. He asked a couple more times, thinking I was just holding out on him, not letting him use the good stuff, before I finally convinced him that all he was going to get out of me was Regis gel.

Geez... doesn't he know that when asking a favor of someone, it is extremely rude to be nit-picky?

Meanwhile, the other oafish looking one said he would rather use hairspray, so I got him some hairspray, and he then proceeded to fog up a goodly portion of the air we were breathing. As I wheezed, he turned to look directly at me and asked , "Why are you so pretty?"

"Uhhh. I don't know," was my reply.

I changed the subject quickly and asked them what they were getting all ready for. They said they were meeting their dates in Orem in a little while.
"You forgot to do your hair beforehand?" I asked.

"Yeah," replied the one with the gel, who was using copious amounts of it and had somehow found a comb and was using that too.

"What are you going to do on your date?" I asked, not sure if I wanted to know the answer, wondering if guys like this actually planned activities for dates or if 'date' was just another word for 'make out session'.

Luckily he said they would probably be watching a movie. Whew.

Then the oafish one told me I had beautiful hair. I said thank you quietly.
Then he asked me which one of them was prettier. Yes, he said prettier.
I asked if he meant 'more handsome', and he said, "sure... which one is more handsome?"

I told them they were both handsome boys. I didn't want to hurt the oafish one's feelings.

The one still combing gel through his hair then settled it by claiming he was way more handsome.

I love it when weirdo's come in to the salon. It really breaks up the monotony of the day.

The Handy-Man Can

Work was reeeeally boring yesterday. I cannot stress that enough. I had one walk-in men's haircut when I got to work at three, and then didn't have any more clients. Luckily, (haha) my manager is very adept at finding "projects" for me to do around the salon. She saves special projects just for me, and won't assign them to anyone else. They call me "the handyman" of the salon. I have a tool kit my father gave me a few years back, and since I'm the only stylist who always has a set of screwdrivers in the trunk of her car, I was given the nickname. I've taken down shelves, assembled new appliances, fixed broken chairs, replaced old cash drawers, etc. Nothing entirely difficult, but stuff that if it had been left up to one of the other girls to do, then our salon would be falling apart right now.

I admit, I take a little pride in this reputation of mine. I like to feel useful and appreciated. I also like to be able to use the few skills my father taught me when I would help him in the garage or around the house on Saturdays. I like to problem solve and find ways to fix things using just the tools I have and the resources at hand. In this way, I really have become like my father, I suppose. He was a professional at making do with what we had. A couple of examples: when our VCR got old, and stopped accepting tapes, he stripped a couple of wires and voila!All you had to do was touch the wires together, and it would take the tape! We didn't even think this was weird when we were little, but I remember our friends thinking it was crazy. Also, our lawn mower didn't turn off, unless you got a stick and used it to disconnect a spark plug on the side of the mower. Maybe it wasn't a spark plug, but whatever it was, if you tried to use your hands, it would shock you. One day we lent the mower to our friends down the street, and about an hour later I remember getting a phone call from Joey, yelling "How do you turn this thing off?!!" As the mower roared loudly in the background. Oops! Hilarious. Haha.

Well, back to my project. They (Regis corporation) installed these video screens at every station in the salon, with the hopes that they'd be these cool new things that showed videos on how to flat-iron your hair better, which products to buy, random music videos and sports videos, and red-carpet fashion blurbs. Long story short- they were a big fat nuisance that never worked right, were obnoxiously loud, and took up a lot of space which made the salon have this cluttered feel to it. I hated them from the beginning, it's true. Well, back in November, we finally heard that Regis was going to take them out! "Woohoo!"

Months passed.

Nothing happened.

So one Wednesday night a few weeks ago, (it was also reeeeally slow) I decided to take them out myself. I got my tool kit and went to town. It took a good couple of hours almost, but I took every single one out of the walls, and stashed them in boxes in the back of the salon. :) Everyone cheered the next day when they saw what I had done, I got high fives and hip-hip-hooray's! They bought me lunch and let me take the big-tipping clients!

Just kidding. But they were happy, and they said "thank you very much", "you rock", etc.

Yesterday I got to work and my manager said that they finally sent us a kit with directions on how to disassemble them and also sent boxes to use to ship all the parts back to headquarters. So, that was my job. Luckily I'd already done the time intensive part of this project, so all I had to do was box it all up. The letter of explanation they sent was funny, because it apologized that it took so long, they were having trouble getting technicians out to the salons to take out the system, so we would have to do it ourselves. I'm actually surprised they entrusted us with such a big project. Usually the hardest thing they assign stylists to do is install a new ink cartridge in the printer.

Well, anyway, I got that all done, and then just found some cleaning to do the rest of the night because our area supervisor is coming for inspections in a few days, and my manager is freaking out about everything.

The moral of the story is this. Come visit me on Wednesday nights in the salon, because I am most likely bored. I accept all kinds of food, and ice cream. We have a TV and DVD player, and I also enjoy watching movies. Heck, I'd just enjoy the company and conversation. Also, if you come I might give you a free scalp massage... Just think about it.

Chewing the Fat

Making small-talk for six hours a day can really start to get to you sometimes. I'll get so disenchanted with it, that after work I don't want to socialize like a typical college student would, simply because I'm tired of asking people where they are from, what they do for fun, and where they got those neat-o sneakers from. Going on first dates can be real challenge also.

However, this isn't all the time, just occasionally. Don't worry about me becoming an antisocial hermit or anything like that. I still enjoy being around people and making new friends.

Some questions I avoid asking my clients, simply because they are questions I hate answering myself, are:

What kind of music do you like?
What do you like to do for fun/when you're not working?


However, when I come across someone who's not particularly "chatty" I might attempt asking one of these. Such was the case on Saturday, when a man came in for a haircut. He was nice, but kind of quiet. So after getting out of him that he is a woodworker who specializes mostly in custom mantels, but also in furniture... I asked, "So, what do you like to do when you're not working?"

Usually, you get a really boring answer to this question. Like 99 times out of 100 you get a, "Oh nothing much, just hanging with my friends," or "I like to snowboard," or "I don't have any time for hobbies... I'm always working. I don't even have time for this haircut, please hurry up and stop asking me questions." etc...

Well, this guy paused for a moment, then he smiled and said, "Honestly...drink."

You have to appreciate that kind of honesty.

I hope he comes back to me next time.

Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum!

Yesterday at work, a little boy of about 5 came in with his mother and was expected to sit quietly while Amber colored the mother's hair for three hours or so. His name was Jackson. I took him to our little television set near the back of the salon, and showed him our overwhelming selection of videos; Aladdin, Anastasia, and Disney Sing-Along Songs on VHS. I figured the 'manliest' option was Aladdin, but he cried, "No, no, no, no, no." when I suggested we watch that one. "I want the disney one!" (meaning the sing-along tape) Okay. I put it in and rewound it to the beginning, because we were going to need every single one of those 20 musical minutes. With Jiminy Cricket (sp?) narrating, we couldn't go wrong. Jackson's favorite segments were "I wanna Be Like You" from the Jungle Book, and "Look Out for Mister Stork" from Dumbo. (you know, the one where the stork brings all the animal babies to the awaiting circus moms). We identified all of the animals, and I taught him what a stork is, and how it's job is to deliver new babies. He said, "Look! The giant elephant is waiting for her baby, Jumbo!" "Oh! here comes her ears!"(the part when Dumbo sneezes and his ears become huge).

I stayed with him for awhile, but left to watch the front of the salon after he seemed to be doing fine on his own. But a few minutes later one of the girls said, "Maranda. He's asking where the 'pink-shirt' went." I looked down to see I was wearing a very pink shirt that day. So I went back to him and upon seeing me he exclaimed, "Oh! There's my pink-shirt at!" I sat with him until my client came in, and I had to cut some hair. Ten minutes in to the haircut, he was asking for me again, but I didn't hear that part of the conversation. I guess when he asked for the "pink shirt" one of my co-workers pointed to a little girl who was wearing a pink shirt, and said "What about her? Her shirt is pink." To which he replied, "No, no, no, no, no. The GIANT pink shirt!" This part I heard. Giant. Hmmm. Okay.

"We Chase Misprinted Lies"

Survey # 2

If you had to choose, which song would you rather have stuck in your head for the rest of your life?

1) I will Always Love You (whitney houston)
2) Take Me Home, Country Roads (john denver)
3) Sweet Child Of Mine (guns 'n' roses)
and written in was:
4) Nutshell (alice in chains)

What I find humorous about someone writing in the fourth option, is that they wrote it but didn't vote for it. Perhaps it's not what they would choose... they just wondered if anyone else would. Or perhaps they felt my spectrum of options just wasn't encompassing enough.


At any rate, the winner was Sweet Child Of Mine with five votes. Second place goes to Take Me Home with four. And I Will Always Love You with one. Except that girl (accidentally) put fifteen tally's. So, perhaps we should address the fact that although fewer people want Whitney Houston stuck in their heads... the one's that do, REALLY want her in their heads.

"Laugh-a while you can. Monkey boy!"

Things people Laugh directly at me for:

1) Locking my door while riding in their vehicle. Or asking them to lock their door while they ride in mine. *

2) Offering to share my sunscreen. **

*If you don't understand the reasoning behind this safety precaution, you may ask my father to explain.
**I'll be the one laughing when you look fifteen years older than I do.

"No, thank you, Mr. Gates."

When a man sits in my chair for a haircut, I immediately place him into one of two categories. 1) I have to worry about him hitting on me and 2) I don't have to worry hitting on me. When (let's call him Ned) Ned walked in and sat down, I put him into category 2, simply because he is at least 35 years old, owns international businesses and is divorced. Basically I felt we were at such different places in our lives, that he would never want to get mixed up with a 20's something girl with two years of college ahead of her, who still wears her retainers to bed.

Which is why I answered honestly when he casually asked me if I was dating anyone. I figured he was asking in an elderly brother type of way, and that when I answered no, he would then offer up some ridiculous advice, or express complete shock at how stupid boys are these days. But instead, he asked if I wanted to go out with him sometime. In my state of complete shock, I stammered, "Uhhhh... oookaaay."

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He left the salon(barely leaving me a tip I might add) with a great haircut, my phone number, and his next appointment booked for two weeks later.

I left with an anxiety attack and perhaps the start of an ulcer.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

But, let me pause here for a moment in order to explain a little problem I have. Yes, I do know that I have a problem. The fact is, that if I am in a situation where I have just been making a guy feel really good about himself, laughing at all of his jokes, smiling, acting interested in the inane boring details of his life etc, it is nigh impossible for me to turn that off in order to reject him. I just can't do it. It would be easier to literally slap him in the face than to say "No, thank you." This is why a man would be very, very cunning to ask me for a second date on the doorstep immediately following the first date. Standing there, having just spent the last couple of hours making him think he is the most amazing person I've ever know, and that our date to the bean museum was purely magical, I would not be able to flip the switch in order to say "No, I don't really want to see you again." This has happened to me before. I went on probably half a dozen dates with one guy before he finally called me up a few days later to ask me out, instead of doing it directly following the date... and then I was able to say, "Sorry, I don't want to go out again." Don't think I'm horrible, okay! I'm working on it.

Well, the haircut situation is the same thing really. I have just spent 20 minutes making a guy feel fabulous (I work for tips, okay?) and asking him all about his three-legged dog, and his lawn-mowing business as if he were Bill Gates, etc. So, if he asks me out...it's just as hard to say "No, thank you." Same thing as the doorstep situation. You see?

Well, back to the story. He texted me about a week later, Monday night. I decided I didn't need to answer it right away. My ulcer grew three sizes. Three hours later I missed a call from him, so he left a message. Should I transcribe it for you? Well, okay.

"Hey Maranda, this is uh (Ned) from the hair salon um ...the guy that you were so shocked that I was asking you out, but you know, I don't see why you'd be surprised, you're a cute girl you know and I'm surprised you don't get asked out all the time. I don't know, maybe I'm the only guy that uh...I guess has the guts to do it. But, uh anyways, I'm totally sorry that I have not gotten in contact with you yet. I've actually been out of town for the past week or two on business and just kinda got back in so I just wanted to give you a call let you know I'd still love to go out, hang out with you, get to know you a bit, talk. Anyways if you'd like to talk, feel free to give me a call. I'm generally up till 2:30 in the morning, so you can never call too late so anyways, talk to you later, bye."

Eww, eww, eww. Ulcer growing more.

The next three days I go back and forth between nurturing my stomach ulcer (which is now the size of Texas) and simply forgetting that he exists.

Yesterday I show up to work, glance at my appointment books, and realize the fafteful day of his haircut appointment is upon me. There's his name, right there, "Ned, H/C 8:30 pm."

It is common courtesy to call the clients who have pre-booked to remind them about their appointments. It helps them remember to come, and keeps the stylists from standing around waiting and losing money on the one's who forget to come... win/win situation. So, what should I do? Should I call to remind him to come, when deep down I just want him to forget all about it, and all about me, and all about the fact that he even has hair that needs to be cut?

I decided I should call.
Ring... ulcer grows.
Ring..ulcer grumbles.
Ring...

"We're sorry, the number you have dialed is out of service. Please check the number and dial again, or dial ### for assistance."

"YESSSSS!!!!"

Haha! I tried! Now I'm in the clear! He doesn't get a reminder... and if he happens to show, I can still say I tried to call. Whew!

Three minutes later, as I'm washing someone's hair out in the shampoo bowl, my pocket buzzes. It's Ned, calling me back. He leaves an accidental message. Hmmmm. His appointment is in a half hour. I decide to just wait and see him when he comes in.

My poor co-worker, Danica, could tell how nervous I was. I was about to puke.

8:30 rolls around. I glance at everyone who walks past the salon storefront, sure that the next pair of sneakers is him.

8:35...still not here.

8:40... is it too good to be true? Will he not show up?!

8:45... this is the usual cut-off time. If you show up 15 minutes late we don't have to take you. So, whew... but really even if I can't cut his hair he could technically still show and then I would have to face talking to him....

8:50... I'm safe! really, if he hasn't shown by now, then he's not coming. Yay!

So, that is how I avoided confrontation yet again. But I'm sure this story is not over with. More to follow...

It wasn't a hoax, folks!

Survey # 1
I passed around a sheet of paper during sunday school hour of church (I'm a bad, disruptive, irreverent person I suppose), and was eager to see if anyone but myself knew who Michael Collins was. No one did. But their responses (and additions to the survey) were fabulous.

The heading read: Which of these three men is your favorite astronaut?
Neil Armstrong
Buzz Aldrin
Michael Collins

The results were as follows.
Neil Armstong XX
Buzz Aldrin XX
Michael Collins X (this was mine; Collins IS the best astronaut)

Then Paul mentioned changing 'Michael' to 'Phil', and said then he'd get Paul's vote. Natalie asked if Buzz Aldrin was actually Buzz Lightyear and if I had somehow made a typo. The answer was no.

Then written in was:
Tom Hanks X
Ben Afleck X
David Bowie XXXX (all made by Will)

There you have it, America's Favorite Astronaut (as determined by a simple random sample of the population; at least I assume everyone surveyed was American) is DAVID BOWIE!