Eeek. Parenting.

Let's just say that hypothetically, there were some boys who were beginning to show interest in girls. And let's just say that there were girls who were beginning to show interest back in those boys.
Let's also say that these boys are just too young for this kind of stuff. What do you say to the boys? How do you set boundaries when you're not sure what kind of boundaries to set? "Don't talk to girls"? "Don't associate with those girls"?
I want open communication with my children. I want them to know that I respect their feelings. But I also want them to know that they are too young. I realize it's starting younger these days, and I also realize that they are bombarded with this stuff. Everything around them tells them it's cool to be in a relationship. It's cool to text, to call; to be texted, to be called; to visit girls or be visited by them. But I'm not ready for this, and frankly, neither are my sons.
How do I tell them that while still keeping the lines of communcation open, and letting them know that I respect their feelings?
Thoughts? PLEASE??

Tunesday: Saving The World, One Track at a Time

I have decided to start a new feature over here. If you know me at all, you know how much I love music. We have something like 6500 songs on our iTunes. Music is almost always on in our house.

My tastes are ridiculously eclectic. But if you stay tuned, I promise every once in awhile there will be a Tunesday for you. I will try to include some info with each song, so that you can broaden your horizons in the process. I know, pretty big of me, right? And I insist that if you don't have the song in your personal library, then download it. (mp3panda.com is only 20 cents a track) There will always be an occasion when you should be listening to it. I'll be sure to point that out as well.

The kick-off tune for this series is "September" by Earth, Wind and Fire. It's a little tribute to the man I love. I love EWF, and one of the first things I found attractive about him was that he knew more about them than I did. These guys are great on the horns, with some funky vocals to match. Maurice White has performed with lots of greats, including Muddy Waters and Etta James. And you'll instantly recognize Phillip Bailey's crazy falsetto voice. Their hits began in the 70's, and in 2004 they were still going strong, blowing it up with Outkast performing "I Like The Way You Move". They also performed in '07 on American Idol's "Idol Gives Back." And I read something recently that said they performed at the White House for the first dinner hosted by the Obamas. Not sure if that's true, but you can look it up.

I chose this song as a must have in your music library because it is so fun. Everyone knows it, and no matter where you are (excluding church or a formal business meeting) people get up and move when they hear it. Don't feel like doing housework? Turn on "September" and your vaccuum will practically move itself. I promise.

Hitchcock Ain't Got NOTHIN On Me!

This is our house. I love it.


Our backyard is a huge park, with protected wetland area. The kids can play out there for hours, and it is beautiful. Here are a couple of shots that show you how fabulous it is in the summer.



Okay, enough with the positive spin.

I'm going to go crazy any day now. See the roof on this beautiful home? It's not your traditional wood and shingles number. I'm no home depot genius, but I can tell this roof is made out of some kind of material other than wood. Like maybe metal? Who knows. Tin? Steel? The green plastic from a Lincoln Logs set? Point is, it's the kind of roof that would be really noisy if you hit it repeatedly with a hammer. Or a beak.
Remember in the first paragraph where I talked about the beautiful park and wetland? It draws a lot of cool birds to the area. We have even been nerdy enough to check out books from the library and learn to identify most of these birds.
Earlier this fall, it was discovered there was a section of the house where the walls meet the overhang of the covered porch that had not been properly finished. It was discovered by a couple of freakishly large birds who decided to peck their way through the wood and nest in our attic. We could hear the pecking and it was loud. We couldn't find the holes, however. Finally after about a week, the pecking stopped, but the pitter patter of tiny bird claws over my living room ceiling began. We called "people". The people came, discovered the problem, and took care of it. Don't worry, PETA, it was all done ethically.
Fast forward to, oh, say 6:00 this morning. And 6:00 every morning for the past 2 weeks. Imagine yourself sleeping soundly in your toasty bed while Mother Nature continues to feel confused about what season we are actually in. Now imagine someone sneaking into your room and gently placing a jackhammer on your cranium. Ready? Set? Yeah. Because of whatever material this roof is made of, the noise reverberates like a bad Looney Tunes experience. This morning, it got worse. A second bird, probably the witchy female mate who has been nagging at her male counterpart to hurry up and get their home ready, and who finally said, "Roger, if you can't get this job finished any faster so I can drop YOUR children into a cozy nest, then I will just get it done myself. " joined the melee. I could clearly hear the one hammering directly above my bed, and the second slightly around the corner above my bathroom.
I threw on my robe. I stepped out my sliding glass door onto my deck and grabbed a log of firewood from the stack. I yelled "UUUURRRRRRGGGHHHH!!!" and hurled the log up at the underside of my covered, wrap-around porch. The log hit the underside of the roof and came hurtling back down at me. Since I have cat-like reflexes, I sidestepped the fallout, pleased with the ridiculously loud noise it made. I scared the birds away. This is the 2nd day in a row that I have thrown firewood at my house, and consequently at myself. I am pretty sure the birds are now SUPER pissed off, and will be back again tomorrow with reinforcements.
It's time for me to call my People again. This time, I will not insist upon the following of any PETA guidelines. Bring out the Red Ryders. Prepare to put some eyes out.

Did You Sit at the Cool Table?

You know, as odd as this sounds, white people really intrigue me. I mean, as a race in general, there are some really quirky things goin on with white folks. I've dicussed The CO-OP. Totally white. I mentioned Facebook... also very white. Don't even get me started on the white boy's obsession with Anime. That's just plain freaky. Farmers' Markets, Ugly Sweater Parties, Country Music- it's all so caucasian.

But the thing that really gets me is the vivid recollection white people have of their high school social ranking. Have you EVER met a white person who says, "I was extremely well-liked in high school"? No. You have not. EVERY white person will reference this time in their lives by saying "I wasn't popular in high school." Poll the Blacks. Poll the Hispanics. Do they ever say "I was a nerd."?


Can you explain this to me? I mean, really, when you "look back" with white people, what do you reminisce about? Depeche Mode, Izod Lacoste, and (yes, Paige) Drakkar Noir. But when you hear, oh, say, my husband look back, it's all talk about football and cruising the PCH. Salsa dancing? Quinceanera? Those fun Hispanics. Cow tipping? Ding-dong-ditch? Yeah, the white kids.

Ask the minority crew if they were popular in high school. They have no idea what you're talking about. They had fun, they did their own thing, and they have great memories of it all. Ask the caucasian persuasion, and they will name any number of possible social groups in which they were placed: nerds, band geeks, goths, druggies, barfs, etc. A rare few will have called themselves jocks, and they may admit to having indeed been popular. But they are a rare few.

Anyway. I don't get it. It seems like the Breakfast Club never really goes away.


And ironically,
do you see tha vanilla pattern here???

I Love it When a Plan Comes Together

As we are prone to do, last night Skip and I were tossing around our theories on various topics. In this instance, we were thinking about the release of the new A-Team movie. Being huge A-Team fans, we have some strong feelings on the casting of these iconic, immortal roles.


"Howlin Mad" Murdock: My first suggestion was Jim Carey, but only if he takes it down a few notches. There's crazy, and then there's "please take your Ritalin, you're getting on my nerves." It's a fine line with Jimbo. Skip wants to see Woody Harrelson. I think he would do a good job, but I can't stand him. He's so trailer-trashy to me.


B.A. Baracus: In my opinion, who better than Ice Cube? No one else has the sneer mastered like he does. Skip suggests Ving Rhames. Also a worthy choice. I believe he voiced the social worker in Lilo and Stitch. And I'm pretty sure the social worker was Mr. T.



Templeton "Faceman" Peck (aka: Face): The possibilities are endless here. My first thought is Ashton Kutcher. Skip said Christian Bale (Batman). I liked his idea more.

Colonel John "Hanibal" Smith: The leader of the group. Must be chosen wisely. My first thought was Terry O'Quinn (John Locke, from LOST). Skip was thinking Tommy Lee Jones. I'm not really sold on either of those choices... which brings me to the point of this post.

WHO WOULD YOU CAST IN THESE VITAL ROLES? The A-Team was a huge part of my childhood. This cannot be taken lightly. I'm open to suggestions.

Discuss.

Gratuitous Link

SO. In my church, I teach the little three year olds. They're called Sunbeams. They have spent the past 2 years in the nursery, and in January of the year they turn 4, they move up into the Big Kids class... which we call Primary. It's a big transition. They have to sit for essentially two hours, listening to lessons and singing songs. It can be a disaster if people come unprepared or are not very good at their job.

These are some of my adorable Sunbeams.

Enter... the MASTER singing lady. Her name is Melanie. For about 20 minutes, this woman is responsible for teaching the kids some pretty difficult church songs. Make no mistake, the songs are fantastic and teach excellent gospel principles. They are, however, a bit of a mouthful for a three year old child. Our lady is one of the two best I have ever seen. And I am stingy with my praise, indeed. So this says a lot.

Some of my friends have this same responsibility in their own churches. I have been trying to summarize her activities and email them, which frankly is time consuming and cumbersome. So I came up with this brilliant idea to talk Melanie into starting a blog and posting her ideas with some photos. Apparently, Melanie is about seven months more brilliant than I am. She has a blog, and you can see all her ingenuity by clicking there yourself. It's called The Crazy Chorister

and you want to do your kids a favor and pass this link along to your own church's music chick. I have ten Sunbeams, and they pay attention to her. 'Nuff said.

Not Showing My Face...book

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nrlSkU0TFLs&feature=related
(sorry, the embed code is wrong, so i can only put up the link. but check it out. if you haven't seen it, you should.)

I'm sure everyone has seen this video clip by now. Every time I see it, I crack up. It's perfect! I've been really intrigued by facebook lately. Let me put up my apologetic disclaimer straight off: if you enjoy facebook, good for you. I don't think any less of you for using it, not that it matters what I think of you.

I just find it to be the stupidest thing ever. Alright, alright, I can see how it's a fun way to keep connected to friends and family. And I will confess that out of curiousity, I checked it out. I asked my friend to let me on his page so I could see what it was all about. And I will admit that I laughed when I saw all the ridiculous pictures he had posted on there from high school. And the comments left by old friends were even funnier. I perused through his 389 friends, and saw a lot of people that I had completely forgotten about. But it was weird. There were moms of my high school friends on there. There were people I used to babysit. There were people I hadn't given thought to in literally twenty years.

So what's the point of it all? Are you really "friends" with all those people? If your nephew's girlfriend's brother "pokes" you, do you accept just to be polite? Why do you care what these people are doing? If there is a picture from high school 15 years ago of two people making out, and everyone is joking about it, is it really funny? I mean, I would not find any humor in seeing a picture of my husband making out with some girl from high school, and reading along while everyone reminisces about it. Do you feel better about yourself when your number of friends goes up, even if you don't like half the people you're friends with?

Here's the other thing. Remember Friendster? And then MySpace? Is Facebook the upgrade from each of those? They start off fine, and then people realize they can "pimp out" their page, and their header gets glitzier, their pictures get racier, and their friends get more and more ghetto. Facebook seems to be the suburban MySpace. Like the special place middle class white folks go to get away from the vermin infiltrating their previous social networking domain.

I get that online social networking is here to stay. And like I said, I can see where it could be fun. I think part of my irritation with the whole thing is that I really don't know why I despise it so much, and I am trying to find some legitimate arguement other than "It's so gay."

But gay it is, at least to me. And I will not be joining the masses. So Poke on, all you facebookers. Enjoy whatever it is that draws you to this bizarre pastime. But when your streamlined pages get cranked out with glam, when the high schoolers take over and start showing off their anatomy, when you start whining "There goes the neighborhood", don't say I didn't warn you.

And I'm sure the online community will devastated by my absence on Facebook. But hey, at least I'm on Blogger, right?

It stands for: Come On! Overpriced Produce

As I'm sure many people do, I have strong feelings about this:























So. My issue of the moment is the CO-OP. The natural, organic, earthy-crunchy stores across the country that tout all things biodegradable and sustainable. The stores that would have you believe your produce comes from this guy:

instead of this guy:

Ever been inside one of these places? I won't lie, their little cafe serves up THE BEST pesto roll with prosciutto that I've ever tasted. But somewhere amid the aisles and aisles of all things basil, tofu and democratic (yes, Virginia, there ARE politics in the produce) you can find stuff like this:

Flaxseed. If you know what to do with this stuff, I'm seriously impressed. I think it comes in my shampoo, but apparently other people eat it. Or who knows, maybe they're making their own shampoo.

I can't do the CO-OP because I cannot afford $2.50 for a tomato. I'll have to settle for the .34cent, insecticide-covered, cancer causing variety from WinCo. What a bummer! Care for some milk? If you don't mind paying $6.00 for the hormone-free gallon, head on down to your CO-OP! Otherwise, $2.79 for the kind from the cows on steroids. O.M.G! Does that lady have a plastic sack? Yes, I'm "re-using" which is on par with the "reduce, re-use, recycle" mantra, right? Ma'am, we'll have to ask you to leave. However, if you'd like to purchase this sustainable green "mother earth" tote for $5.00, you are welcome to use it to carry the 7 grocery items that actually fit into it out to your car.

How do people fall prey to this scam? Do they really feel that much better about themselves because they pay 9 times what I do for their groceries? If their kids behave well during grocery shopping, are they promised some of these?:

"Yes, honey, I WILL buy you some carob-coated raisins, but if you ask me again, the answer is NO."

I don't get it. I really don't. I've been living off of regular grocery food for about 35 years now, and frankly, I'm doin' alright. My farmers may not hug my eggplant before they ship it to me, but I'm also fairly certain they don't poison it either. I mean, I'm still alive, right?

Pillow Talk

So the other night Skip and I were laying in bed, and I mentioned I was noticing a nice change in my legs and backside since restarting at the gym. Just some toning, some firming going on. He informed me that I had already mentioned this to him, and insinuated that perhaps I was a teensy bit vain.

Feeling stung, and wanting to dig my way out of any ill-perceived vanity, the following conversation ensued:

A: Did I ever tell you that I used to wear headgear?

B: Yeah, I think you mentioned that before.

A: You know, the kind that straps around your head. It was hideous.

B: Mm-hmm.

A: Yeah, I had braces AND headgear. Not pretty.

B: I imagine.

A: I refused to wear it out in public.

B: That's because you're vain.

A: I am NOT vain! If I had been wearing headgear on our first date, would you have still been interested in me?

B: Ahhh... No.

A: WHAT!?!

B: Sorry babe. That's a no.

A: But what if I was still an attractive 34 year old woman, with nice legs and long, blond hair?

B: Ain't happenin baby.

A: Seriously? Even if I had the same sense of humor and we totally clicked like we do now?

B: Nah.

A: What if we had met online, and you were really drawn to me as a person before you knew about the headgear?

B: Then you would've been misleading me, and I probably wouldn't like you anymore.

A: THAT IS SO SHALLOW! YOU ARE SO VAIN! You wouldn't want to be seen with me just because I had on headgear?

B: Goodnight, baby. Sleep well.

A: silent pouting; exaggerated tossing and turning; occasional loud sighs

B: You're beautiful.

A: happy, vanity and pride fully restored: Thanks B. Love you.

And so it goes. But come on. Is there really something so wrong with this:

that can't be overcome with this:

The Wrath of Khandrea

Isn't it a delicious coincidence that my name is pronounced AHNdrea, thus spawning the outlandishly clever title of my post?

So, um, no thanks to the majority of you, I lost the battle. Look what came in our mailbox the other day from Netflix:

While I realize most of you were probably just trying to promote our marital harmony by suggesting I watch this with my husband, frankly, I'm appalled at the lack of solidarity amongst the female crew. I mean, sure we expected Brent and Steve to side with Skip. I was sure they had probably even watched it and enjoyed it as well. But LADIES! Are you KIDDING ME? Some of you even came out as closet trekkies. Shameful.

My favorite comment was from Tiff.

I would have to say that you should at least try to watch your husband's favorite movie. Maybe you could staple your eyelids open before the movie starts to make him feel really good about it.

She was onto something there. So staple I did, and here's what I learned from the experience:

Men can have too much of a good thing, and they can actually make me feel naughty for looking.

I can take the weight off and KEEP IT OFF! Just ask Jenny.

The negotiator can always search for the lowest fares.

Apparently, he was beamed up from Witch Mountain... where he successfully escaped to in the mid-70's.

If you don't show up at his wedding just because he's gay and you oppose his lifestyle, he will be really mad at you.

My husband makes good nachos, and thank goodness for that because at least I have something memorable from the evening.

*In all fairness, I didn't HATE the movie. I just couldn't get past the fact that everyone in it now does endorsements of some kind or another. It's one thing if you do endorsements in conjunction with a healthy career. But when you get to a point where endorsements ARE your career, it may imply you've been in a total bomb of a movie at some time in your life. I will say this much: It was definitely better than The Women.

From Bikini Top to Melon Ballers

Holy Smokes on the previous post. There's a follow up in the works, to be released later this week. Until then...

Age 19: Biggest concern- have I worn the same bikini top too often this week? Have I rotated through the collection enough?

Age 35: Biggest concern- the sunburns I incurred from said bikini tops are now filling me with regret and irritation.

Yeah. When you're young, carefree, in college... your day wardrobe consists of a lot of bikini tops. There doesn't even really have to be water around. You just throw on the shorts and the top, and head out to play in the sun. You haven't birthed or nursed children yet, so you wear it well. Hopefully all the guys you're hanging out with will feel the same way, and you can score some free barbecue. Oh, and let's not forget all the time spent in the tanning bed. SPF? WTF?!

With the wisdom of age, I can now look back and wonder what the hell I was actually trying to achieve. A less-lighter shade of pale perhaps? Dimming the glare? Ecru, at best. I mean, come on people. When we talk about "white" folk, I am the poster child.

So funny thing, I've had this funky anomaly on my back for a month now. I'll spare you the gory details, but suffice it to say the time came to see a medical professional. As said medical professional is poring over my back, she casually asks me, "Have you had many sunburns in your life?" My mind is racing: Do I give a smart-mouth remark about how I'm both super-white AND vain, or do I just say "Yes ma'am." I opt for the latter. Next words out of her medical professional mouth are, "Well we'll just go ahead and cut this thing off and send it in."

HOLD UP, WAIT A MINUTE, AIN'T NOTHIN BUT TUTTI-FRUITY, said Salt-n-Pepa. We don't just throw around the term "cut this thing off" when referencing body parts.

...Or do we?

As it turns out, we do. I said, "I have only got 30 minutes before I have to pick my children up from school." Twenty minutes and three stitches later I was redressing, staring at a funky looking chunk of myself floating in a jar of antiseptic.

This is as much as you're gonna see of it:



The moral of the story is: yes, you were hot at 19. Now, your skin is melon-balled right off your body in time for you to pick up your children from school. Don't forget to borrow your five year old's SPF 50. No shame in wearing a Water Babies product.

Some Sort of Mars and Venus Encounter

So here's a little guest post from my husband. Apparently he has an "opinion" that he'd like to share. And apparently he would like you all to BACK said "opinion". For the record, I hate Star Trek. And also, for the record, I feel that even though The Women was a STUPID movie, we watched it together because the man loves me, and knows who butters his bread.

I mean, I'm just sayn.

Anyway... Here's what the man had to say:

I just want to comment on the “The Women” post. First off Shally, really? You kinda liked it? That’s like saying I kinda like having my eyelids stapled to my forehead and being forced to watch one-legged midgets box with one arm tied behind their backs. But I’ll let you slide on this because you hooked me up with the camera lens info. Second, this movie was bad for a lot of reasons but I think it came down to the fact that there were no men in the movie. Oh there were references to men, but not a single one to be seen in the whole movie. Believe me, I looked (how do you think I made it through the 114 minutes?)

Having said that, I think that I should be rewarded for watching that movie, and my reward should be Andrea watching what is, in my opinion, the opposite of a movie with no men. That movie is (wait for it) “Star Trek II, The Wrath of Khan”. Andrea is running from this movie, but I feel she owes me on this one. How can she resist the sophisticated Latin lover Ricardo Montalban as the genetically enhanced Khan? And the man that needs no enhancing, William Shatner, as James Tiberious Kirk? Come on people, help me out here! I’m leaving it in your hands. All you have to do is nay or yea and we’ll take it from there.

Lastly, thanks to all those who gave me props for hanging in there and for Paige who was waiting for something to happen. Something did happen, the movie got worse.

PS: Steve, as the only other male who openly reads my wife's blog, I'm counting on you to have my back.

Soft Pretzels and Deep Doctrine

I have the opportunity to be present in an elementary school cafeteria every day. Sometimes, I sit and observe the kids while they eat.


Today they had soft pretzels with nacho cheese dip for lunch. They seemed to enjoy it, and the fine cuisine allowed conversation to flow freely. Here's what I heard:


BOY (to girl): So Jesus lives in heaven with his parents. Didja know that?
GIRL: No.
BOY: Oh yeah. He's up there with them.
GIRL: That isn't real.
BOY: OHYESITIS! Are you kidding? He doesn't have a wife though. Just Jesus and his mom and dad.
GIRL: There's no such thing as Jesus.
BOY: Um, yeah there iiiiiiis. Duh. And pretty soon sometime I don't really know when, he's gonna come back and get all of us and take us to heaven with him.
GIRL: Nuh-uh.
BOY: Yeah-huh. And since you don't believe in him, you're gonna be in big trouble because he's gonna make you invisible.
GIRL: WHAT?!



BOY: Yeah. Jesus is coming in a big cloud. And everyone who believes in him gets to go back up to heaven with him. And everyone who doesn't believe in him gets made invisible and then they have to go YOU-KNOW-WHERE. Plus, if you get to go with him, he's gonna give you a new body. I'm gonna try and get a Chinese one.
GIRL: Well then you can't talk to anyone because no one knows how to talk Chinese.
BOY: No, he's gonna make it so everyone can talk the same language.
GIRL: You're making all this up.
BOY: EVERYONE AT THIS TABLE WHO BELIEVES IN JESUS RAISE YOUR HAND!
most hands go up
BOY: See. I told you it's real. Everyone knows it. You must not be a Christian.
GIRL: I don't even know what that is. Wanna play chase at recess?
BOY: Yeah.

Save Yourself The Time...

As Skip so eloquently put it, "Well THAT'S two hours of my life I can never get back..."

We watched this movie last night. You know how sometimes a movie starts off "slow" but you keep watching, in hopes that it will pick up?

This movie was sort of like that. Minus the part where it ever picks up.

I was so excited about the cast. With the exception of Debra Messing, whom I find annoying and over-exaggerated, I really like everyone in the cast. But the storyline was so weak, and the roles were so staged, I could hardly stand the fact that I committed myself to watching the entire thing.

Jada Pinkett Smith is one cool chick. I am impressed with her seemingly stable celebrity marriage. She appears to be a nice person. Except when she's playing a rough-around-the-edges lesbian who hangs out with rich white girls. She was like a piece of a puzzle that got put away in the wrong box. And it was annoying.

Annette Bening was supposed to be a ruthless executive trying to hold onto her job. In reality, she was a spineless fluke. Eva Mendes tried to come off as an overly-confident man stealer. It was hard to see her as confident when she lost the man and opted for a woman instead. Debra Messing I just can't stand. I've always felt Will and Grace should've been called Karen and Jack. In this movie, she was confusing and lost in her role as an artsy baby-making-machine.

Meg Ryan was stunning. I cannot get over the fact that she is 63 years old. There's no way! She doesn't look a day over 45. But even her ageless beauty wasn't enough to carry the movie. She was the only character whose story and emotions were even semi-convincing, but by the time I realized how likeable she was, I was half asleep.

Hopefully you haven't already wasted your money on this film. I'm no film critic, but I figured I'd do the world a favor and make it known that this one is not worth even Netflixing.

*Post note: I am actually an idiot, yes. We looked up Meg Ryan's birthdate after the movie, and we read it wrong. We were probably still in a total brain fart from watching this stupid movie. Thanks, Lisa, for the correction. It was 1961, making her almost 48. Now that I can handle.

...And Fun Was Had By All.

So we decided to have a party for New Year's Eve. Our kids are all gone, so we figured we'd try the grown-up thing. Surprisingly, we still remember how to interact with other adults when there is no Polly Pockets or Transformers theme involved.

First off, this guy was running the bar. And he did a very good job. So good, in fact, that he was a BIT paranoid about my intrusion as an attempted barmaid, and quickly shooed me away when I tried to start pouring drinks. Jeeze. Some people.


A couple of Blokes got together and played an intensely "scientific" (right Mel?) game of strategy. Notice the men in deep thought as the youngest party guest takes his turn.



The night got crazy when the tin man showed up...

...along with his slightly confused tin man friend.

We had this brilliant idea to buy party hats. We figured no one would wear them because, well, they look so stupid. Everyone wore them. And suddenly, we wondered just how rude it would be if the hosts declined the "stupid" look.
*Note our friend Mark in the shirt and tie, very overdressed for the party. He is the bishop of our church, and in spite of his "explanation" that he had come straight from a youth dance, we realize that frankly, he just doesn't know how to dress down anymore. Honestly, does he even own casual clothes???


We had a really super time, and at midnight I got to make out a little with this guy. I mean, really though, how much making out can you actually do with your bishop sitting next to you???

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!!