Answer is…

What I eat for breakfast every morning.

Question is…

Why?

I realized that I haven’t kept up my end of this bargain lately.  I haven’t exposed my inner most thoughts and demons out here on the WorldWideWeb in a month.

Did anyone miss me?

I haven’t been witness to much stupid in the world lately, which I gotta admit, is bringing me down.  But the cup has runneth over in the pressure and stress fountain for the past couple of weeks.

I thought that moving to a small town, getting some fresh air (phew!) and distance from my stressors would be good, would be healing.

It wasn’t.

The Whirly Girl and I have parted ways.  It’s been heartbreaking and eye opening all at the same time.  The things we fought about in the “big city” came with us, but what didn’t were the distractions from them.  So now, we were fighting all the time about the same shit we fought about before the move.  And I hit.a.wall.

No, it’s never a feel good moment when you blow someone you love and you envisioned your life with completely apart.  I don’t know how two people, so close, can have such vastly different ideas of how the relationship is going.  And I had to face it, deal with it and try to start healing from it.

It’s done.  Everything out in the open.  I have found that I DO have emotions and apparently I had tears until I cried every last one of them out of my body over the past two weeks.  I have found that I am probably one of the alternately compassionate and yet dick-ish people out there.

I don’t want to hurt anyone.  I can’t fake what I don’t feel and found that I was stifiling my self, editing what I was saying for the sake of not hurting somone else.  I haven’t done that since I moved out on my own at 18 and began resenting the hell out of the role of Peacekeeper. 

I have become a Blurter. You know, one of those folks who will take it and take it until they can’t take it anymore and then blurt out the truth, and in one simple sentence, blurt the truth and blow my world, her world and their world completely to pieces.

Yeah, it’s kinda sucked to walk in my shoes.

I have had people pulling at me for various and unsundry reasons since the whole breakdown of my relationship started.  What I have learned are there are some truly selfish folks in my world that I had thought were my friends.

In particular, I have one friend, who leaned on me through their breakup.  Daily, almost hourly.  I was there.  I lended comfort, compassion and support to them.  Now it’s their turn to be in my corner and they have gone MIA…if it wasn’t for Facebook updates, I would have by now, contacted the FBI to report a Missing Person.  But this person is just all about them.  No room for anyone else.

I have found strenghth in specific friends that makes me feel better.  I have found in this group of three (count ‘em) THREE people that I am loved, treasured and they support me, center me and keep me calm in this storm that I created. 

On top of the move, then the boy starting school, the adapting to really early mornings and traffic, the breakdown of communication between me and Whirly, the stress of the Daughter flailing around an hour away from me just about put me over the edge. 

I have learned that I have an uncanny ability for adaptability.  I am going to be testing the son’s adaptability in the coming months and I hope that he gets his sweet disposition and willingness to change from me.  That his sweet nature won’t be affected because mommy follows her heart.

There aren’t words to help heal the pain and disappointment I have caused.  “I’m sorry” doesn’t seem to be enough and it’s the only thing I can think to say anymore.  It just sucks. 

Me, at a loss for words.  Shocking…

So, today, I have seen on the internet SEVERAL times the story about MacKenzie Phillips and her pops. 

Gotta tell you…I feel the need to shower…yeah, that dirty.

There are just somethings that don’t need to EVER be said, published discussed, drawn or mimed.  This would be one.

I have a hard time with the lack of decency in society.  I personally have lived my own episode (or two) of Jerry Springer…yet, I would like to think, this chick has reformed.

I don’t lay all my shit bare to folks.  I have a select few that I can and will talk to (ad nauseum) and will listen to. 

I have neighbors, friends, acquaintances, co-workers, lawn dude, etc., that will tell me the most personal, ridiculous stuff.  I mean PERSONAL.  what is that?  Do they not know they will become fodder for this here blog?  Do they not know I will mock them?  Ok, Ok, I may change their names or a detail or two, but surely they will see themselves out here.

Point is.  Don’t talk about stuff that is gonna make others go “Oh My!” and shuffle off.

• Don’t tell folks you willingly slept with your dad.  (eww, eww, and EWWW!!!)
• Don’t tell folks you would sleep with your mother if she wasn’t your mom.  (This was way gross!!!!)
• Or your brother.
• Nevermind about the sister, cousins, aunts, uncles….if it genetically linked, I don’t wanna know!!!
• Don’t tell folks you AREN’T sleeping with about your STD’s…it will get you uninvited to EVERYTHING.

Now, I am not a prude, I fly my freak flag proudly, but damn…I don’t wanna know about your bowel movements, monthly cycle, back acne, deviant practices (errr…..wait…).  Leave some of it at home. 

There are lots of these blogs out here, for creative and non-creative folks.  Everyone gets the chance to share their thoughts, feelings, desires, dreams, and it’s great.  Every once in a while, I will stumble onto one, read a few sentences, get that look on my face like I was sucking on a lemon and hit the “X” in the corner.  Ewwww….

For it to gross me out…that takes ALOT.  I mean ALOT!!!!

I got the sensibilities of an 18-year-old boy and the sense of humor of a 12-year-old.  I love dirty jokes, laugh at people falling, farting or burping.  You know, good clean humor. 

My dad used to tell me….“Steph, leave some of it to the imagination.”

The man was a genius.  And because of it…I have a great imagination.  So, you can skip the meaty parts of some stories, I can make it up .  All on my own.

If I need help, buh-lieve me….I will ask, then we can discuss.

Today is my girl Kendra’s birthday.  And of course, she gets her very own blog.  Actually, I woke up thinking, “Must tell Kenner Happy Birthday!” and then I just got to thinking about this person…who is every bit my sister yet, there isn’t a shred of DNA to be shared.

As seems to be my modus operandi, I am gonna tell you a few things about my friend.  I have done this before, as a “how to” list for her (as in a How To List to Keep Kendra Happy).  At last check, she still had it.  This time, I get to publish this list so we can ALL have it.

Let’s see.

1)  Kendra started as my next door neighbor.  And until fate and a TD Industries truck blocked her driveway we never met.  I remember peeking out the window on prom night watching them take pictures in their front yard.  Not like a creepy stalker…but as a mommy and wife, wanting to be younger and going to the prom again…*sigh*

I have yet to live down admitting THAT one to her…

2)  Kendra has a twin sister.  A fact that was pointed out to me by the Respondent without much more detail (this will be important momentarily).  So for two years, I live next door to the twins, usually only ever seeing Kendra and thinking she was BOTH twins. 

They are fraternal twins.  Look nothing alike.  NOTHING.  The Respondent didn’t mention that…so I just rolled with it.   Kendra worked at Eckerd’s…what do you think my dumbass would do…yup…walk into Eckerd’s, call her Kelly and not see that her name KENDRA was on her name tag and I was indeed the creepy stalker kind of chick that called her by her sister’s name.

I have yet to live that down either.

3)  Until the past 5 years, Kendra had never left Dallas.  Didn’t plan to live anywhere else.  Kendra didn’t CHANGE LANES….she has now lived in Germany, LEARNED GERMAN, travelled across Europe, Korea and Alabama.  This certain fact is probably the funniest, yet proudest singular fact I have on her…she did what I want to do.  Up and move.  And she adapted very well.

4)  The dog.  Meka.  It’s actually like a small child with hair and a tail and Kendra treats like the princess she is.  Meka is a pug, so by definition is too cute.  And spoiled.friggin.rotten!!!  I love this dog.  Meka was born in Germany (I think) so the damn dog is more travelled than I am.  What’s that?!?!?

5)  Kendra drives a Tahoe like a go-cart.  Which is funny, because 10 years ago, at Taco Bueno, we did a 472-point turn in a parking spot because Kendra would not drive out of the spot IN REVERSE.  And at the time…she drove a Mazda 626.  Think of the scene in Austin Powers where he gets the gator stuck in the hallway…that was this turn.  I have never laughed as hard as I did in that moment and she did it.  With me standing there, in shock and awe watching her.  That she drives a car that the Mazda would fit in…maybe it’s just me…but it’s funny!!!

I have yet to let her live this down…

6)  No one loves Kendra like my boy does.  She was his first girlfriend. She nicknamed him while he was still in utero and it’s stuck.  Peanut and Doodle.  Either/or.  At 18 months.  He would bat his eyes at her, smile coyly and flirt shamelessly.  To return the favor for Peanut and Doodle, Riley gave her the nickname that has stuck.  With the most precious sentence ever spoken by a baby.  “I lub you Kenner.”

7)  Very few are allowed to call her Kenner.  In fact, there’s maybe 4…TOTAL.  And if you call her Kenner and are not on the short list, she will very quickly tell you “You cannot call me Kenner.”  I know this for a fact as she did snarl this at someone in my presence with the most withering look, ever!  I think he cried.  Don’t call her Kenner unless you want to be emasculated in public.  Kenner is Riley’s name for her…deal with it.

8)  She eats weird.  Like getting a burrito and squeezing all the stuff out of it.  Or an egg roll…same thing.   She has explained this to me several times, but every time we Taco Bell or Bueno it, it amazes me.  It’s the funniest thing to watch.  She also did not eat crab legs until a few years ago when I cajoled her into trying them…she hasn’t looked back!!!

9)  Speaking of food, Kenner loves pancakes.  Few years ago, on my first day at a new job, I told my boss I was gonna be late, I had something to do before work.  What I had to do was break into my besties house and make her pancakes.  Last year, when we traveled to Houston to celebrate said birthday…we got pancakes.  Sadly this year, no pancakes on the birthday…but I do get to see her next weekend…so I may work some in. 

10)  Do not wear stinky patchouli base perfume around her.  She will tell you quickly and in certain words “You smell like Tobasco.  Don’t wear that again!”  I know this.  I was the tobasco wearer.  I now wear three scents that she approved of years ago.  I do not alter.  Her favorite Stephanie smell is Aqua Di Gio by Giorgio Armani.  I must always make sure to have that around.  And no Tobasco.

Kendra is soooo much more than my friend.  She is part of who I am.  Our friendship has shaped me and changed me over the years.  I think it’s for the better.  I shine more when my friend is around.  She makes me that happy!

She has seen me in my darkest hour and loved me through it.  She has fiercely protected me from myself and from others for 13 years.  She’s the go-to person when I need someone to make me see things from someone else’s view.    Kendra will set me straight (relative term) when I am wrong.  She will hold me up and make me strong when I don’t think I can do it any more.  I could not ask for a better friend.

We can live in different places, on different continental shelves, and still…she is my biggest ally.  My world is infintely better because she is in it.  I love this chick.  She’s good stuff!

Here’s to you Kendra, my gorgeous, loud, funny warrior of a friend.  We have been through so much and have only become stronger for it.  I am honored and blessed every day that you call me your best friend. 

Happy Birthday Kenner.  I lub you.

I love to laugh.  Loudly and hysterically if I can.  I have been told that I have an infectious laugh.  I tend to think that it’s because most people start laughing AT me, not with me….

I tend to laugh hardest at Tanner these days.  Today was absolutely no exception.

Most conversations happen on IM these days, we are busy folks.  (sure!)  So this leaves all tonality and inflection to the imagination of the reader.  This ensues with much hilarity.

So Tanner has decided to quit smoking and get healthy before she turns 40.  Which is in the next 30 days.  So Tanner is going to undo 39 years of debauchery and abuse in the next 4 weeks. 

She has quit smoking.

She has given up sugar.

She has given up caffeine.

She has given up junk food.

She is allergic to duct tape.  (more on that to come)

She is apparently ready to give up all known friendships. 

And she apparently loves fruit. 

However, as a co-worker found out today….fruit does not exactly love her.

So, we are IM’ing today…she has decided to take an innocent remark that I made and run ’round the left with it…so once I brought her back, got myself off the ledge and made sure everything was ok, our conversation got absolutely hysterical…

Tanner informs me that she is simply cranky because she wants a cigarette.  Either to smoke, gnaw on or digest, it apparently doesn’t matter at that point, she wants the Marlboro man to ride in on his horse and rescue her.  Her Nicoderm patch apparently is repelled by her skin (probably the fruit!) and she has resorted to DUCT taping the patch to her arm. 

She is, by the end of the day, having an allergic reaction to the duct tape.  Which only furthers her need for a cigarette, a Dr Pepper and a bag of chips.

I feel for her co-workers…and the poor dogs. 

She then informs me that fruit is not her friend.  Nor the friend of her co-workers as it tends to make her quite gaseous.  And when I am reading this for myself, I start laughing. 

And it gets harder to breathe.  Or talk.  My co-workers had to come check on ME because I was damn near laying in the floor.

Tanner is a turd of the highest order.  She kept asking her co-worker to “pull her finger” and giggling like a 7-year-old boy when the co-worker did so.  Last I heard, they were closing the office early, due to carbon monoxide poisoning.  Not nice Tanner.  Not nice at all. 

I don’t think that’s how you go about getting promotions, I could be wrong, but farting on employees isn’t quite kosher…

I tried to encourage her to quit smoking.  However, the sugar-free, caffeine-free, junk food-free change in life was all her.  I suggested maybe not all at once, but to “wean” her body away from the toxic amounts of crap she has ingested. 

Going cold turkey all the way, well that just leaves you hungry, bitter and well…non-sexed.  You may end up slimmer, trimmer and fitting into those jeans from high school….but you are not gonna have a friend left.  And your family has already decided they like me so much more than you….you may want to rethink it.

I gave up caffeine in January, I don’t eat a whole bunch of junk, but I don’t deny myself a burger now and then.  I have started smoking again after a 3 year sabbatical (boo hiss on me, I know) but I can put it back down pretty easy.  So I am not worried about how the lack of nicotine affects me.  Plus, well, I will be Tanner’s only friend, so I am golden, correct?

So back to our conversation, she is telling me about the fruit farts, how her co-workers are dying slow deaths in the office and she’s just sitting in it.  Laughing and grabbing more grapes.  I keep telling you.  Turd.Highest.Order.

I now have a mental picture of Tanner, by the end of the week…

She is in her closet. 

There are Dr Pepper cans strewn about.

She has potato chip crumbs in her hair and grease on her face.

With pieces of duct tape mixed in with the chips.

And the whole time, she is mumbling about “cleaner living by 40.”

THAT image sent me over the edge.

Grieving the death of a loved one is hard. For most, one of the hardest things to do.

I think THE hardest thing to do is to grieve the death of a child.  In any way, shape or form.  No amount of comforting words, thoughts, prayers or touches seem to help.

Tanner lost her nephew on Tuesday.  Jayden Alexander Tanner.  He was 19″ long and weighed 5 lbs, 11.5 oz.    He left before she could say hello.  And he is in such a better place.  He had other plans for this angel.  And it’s not fair.

Jayden was diagnosed with anencephaly at 4 months.  The past 5 months has been agonizing to live through.  There have been wonderful moments, laughter and good times…all tempered by the knowledge that this was not going to have a happy ending. 

So we all pushed it out of our minds and moved on with the daily grind. 

In the past few days, I have seen how a family pulls together, loves each other through a tragedy and how their faith carries them.  I thank God above that they had each other.  I have seen my friend exhibit such a power of grace and strength.  I am in awe of her. 

At one point, I was so broken up, that she comforted ME!!!!  And then we laughed as we realized somehow, it had gotten backwards. 

I had always thought that Tanner was more family to me than a friend and this has proven it.  I have not stopped thinking of her, her well being, her pain or suffering.  I figure, “she’s worrying about everyone else, someone needs to worry about her.”  So I took it as my job.

I had someone remark about how hard this has hit me.  That I have taken it on as my own personal situation.  Which I thought was (1) a bitch thing to say and (2) hopefully not true.  As it’s not my intention.  I am close to Tanner.  And out of respect for her, her family, for Jayden…I have simply tried to comfort Tanner.  And not once have I intruded upon the family. 

I can’t seem to get my head or heart wrapped around this.  I hurt for my friend, her family, the parents, the big brother.  It hurts to my core.  Maybe that’s the “mommy” in me.  I have thanked God profusely over the last three days about my children.  And the guilt that comes with the fact that mine are ok…

Jayden.  What a sweet name for such a sweet soul.  Only God knows what the lesson in this was.  Or will be.  It’s not mine or Tanner’s or anyone else’s to question, but that is all we can seem to do.  Ask the WHY? of it all.

Tanner, know in my soul that soon you will have peace.  You have His comfort.  Healing will be slow, there’s no way around that.  You will count it in hours, then days, then weeks.  One day you will realize you haven’t counted how long it’s been.  It just happens.

Jayden is far better off than we are.  He is perfect, he is beautiful and loved.

Godspeed Jayden Alexander.  You have many here that love you and miss you.  Please watch over them.

I had a conversation today with a co-worker about love.  And how you know when you have found The One.  And is it possible that everyone has A One? 

She’s been married three times, all three times, it was The One.  And now…she’s on her own again.  Younger than me, she wanted to know…how do you know?

Now, I am not claiming to be an expert on ANYTHING.  I mean, I have sent my one marriage down in flames.  I have children that one day I fear will put me in Shady Pines and forget me.  I can’t seem to hold much together for more than about 30 seconds before it combusts in front of me, but she got me thinking.  How did she go left, when she thought she was going right.

Attraction is a funny thing.  I personally don’t think you can choose who you are attracted to, it just happens.  There’s no rhyme or reason, sometimes, it just happens.  Take me for instance.  My WHOLE life, I was the “straight girl”.  I was boy crazy and never once thought, “hmmmmm….I like me some girls.”

And wham!  Enter Whirly. 

I have always said, to Whirly’s consternation, that I would be in love with her whether she was male or female.  I just fell in love with her.  Who she is, what she made me feel.  Imagine my fear, panic, paranoia and all out nervous breakdown when I realized “oh, holy shit!  SHE’S a girl.  Now what do I do?!?”

And truth be told, I went with it.  It seemed natural to me to love her.  To end up here.  And I have never once regretted my decision. 

As I told my co-worker this story, she nodded.  “I get that.  I thought I was there.  Then I met him.  And then, I felt more for the new guy.”

I can’t explain it.  She’s a “butterfly chaser.”   You know, that high in the beginning.  That rush of not being able to quit thinking about the other person.  That NEED for that person.  She is addicted to the butterflies.

I know that feeling.  The butterflies.  We all do (I hope, I hope).  It’s intoxicating.  And necessary to the start of any relationship.  You know…that rush….

What should be left is not the NEED for the other person.  But the WANT.  You NEED oxygen to survive.  You can’t live without it.  You WANT to be with the other person.  All the time.  It’s about choice. 

Any choice starts as an attaction of some sort.  Free will and all. 

You see a person, new or known, and something catches your eye.  Something snags your attention and you can’t seem to stop.  Then you start to feel it…the butterflies.  What you do with that, is your free will.

Everyone has that choice, to see where the butterflies lead you.  To see if what you are feeling has legs.  To see if the other person reacts the same way.  If they do, then you are off to a great start.  If not, cut your losses, move on.  You can’t force anything or anyone.  In doing so, you end up looking like a fool and feeling like an even bigger one.

Personally, when I feel it, I feel it.  I can’t explain it.  It’s about trust.  Of myself, of the other person and of my intuition.  I will however try to push it completely away…I will test it, I will deny it and I will question it, over and over.  Until I get comfortable with it, and then I will let.it.roll.

That person could be standing right in front of you.   And what you are feeling could be exactly what you were looking for.  Right then, right there.  It’s up to you to seize the moment, move on it and take it where it leads. 

Her comment then was, “what if the person isn’t with who they are supposed to be with?  What if you are their One and they are not free?”  (ah-ha!  the whole reason this conversation was karmically thrust upon ME just came to light!)

My simple response is, was, will be…if it’s meant to be, it will just happen.  Neither one of you will be able to stop it, to deny it…it will just be there.  

It would be like trying to stop a freight train with your bare hands.

I have never once regretted anything.  I never will.  I love where I am and what I am.  I have made my choices and will continue to make my choices based on one thing.  Me.  That can never lead me wrong. 

right?

So we did it…we are in a small town.  The move happened spectacularly over the weekend and we are almost COMPLETELY unpacked, pictures hung, etc…

Let the games begin…

Saturday

Pretty uneventful.  No, not really.  I can’t back that up.  Let’s see…it took no less than THIRTY phone calls to find the cell phone charger, keys, the DVR’s, the light bulbs, the cables and my mind.  By the 30th phone call, neither Terry or Whirly was answering which meant that we would leave voice mails to which they wouldn’t listen but call back and say “What did you want?”

My end response was “Well if you would have (a) answered in the first place or (b) listened to the voice mail, we wouldn’t have to rehash this…yes?  Where’s the charger, keys, DVR’s, etc?”

The response that was not something I can post here, being as well….it was rude!!!

Ummmmm….oh yeah!  Whirly Girl ran out of gas in the U-Haul.  This actually get funnier everytime I tell the story as I can elaborate or include details that were left out originally.  It’s also exponentially funnier based on the quantity of Coors Light consumed.  But I digress.

The evening concluded with friends and dinner…and margaritas…and beer.  And a 2:00 AM game of musical chairs played out for our amusement in a SUV that was carrying said drunky friend home and she couldn’t decide exactly where she wanted to sit or lay down.  I have since said I wouldn’t have been surprised if her girlfriend hadn’t strapped her to the roof.

Sunday

Ahhhh….I gots me my own “Wisteria Lane” out in these parts.  As my neighbor came over to introduce herself and her (follow me) daughter’s ex-boyfriend/best friend/mom’s slave.  It was awkward.  She was awfully “friendly” with the young man…much to the extent that when they left, I felt kinda dirty, in that Mrs. Robinson way.  Only she’s about 45 and he’s MAYBE 15….ewww….

But she gave me the skinny on the neighbors, the landlords, the Mary Kay agent in the subdivision that is a thief, the teenagers at the end of the cul-de-sac that party way too late into the night and park all over the place.  (sounds like a typical night at my house, if you have EVER read my blog!)  I didn’t have the heart at that moment to tell her to buckle up, as I am sure we will have lots of folks over from time to time…and (shhhh) they are almost all gay…yes, in the small town….gay people!!!! 

Later in the evening….’nother neighbor stops by…apparently her husband got laid off and doesn’t work.  Doesn’t clean house.  Doesn’t do laundry.  Or from the inferred statement…her.  (as in “He doesn’t do much, you think he’d have the energy.”)  They have a young son that has developed a bit of hero worship of my son and wants him to come over and play on the Wii and have pizza.  Everyday.  The son is being nice….”just until school starts, mom.”

Monday – Tuesday

Well, I have to judge my time going to work well yet.  Yes, I understand it’s only day TWO of the commute (which I love!) but yesterday I was 10 minutes late, so I adjusted this morning by 10 minutes and was 30 minutes EARLY….

I have decided that country drivers are different that city drivers.  First of all…..country drivers are FAST.  With most farm-to-market roads being at minimum 65 MPH.  And I haven’t seen an accident yet. [knocks wood]

Country drivers are well mannered.  Much more so than city drivers, they may be moving fast, but they yield, they wave (with more than one finger) and they use their signals.  It’s amazing.

The closer I get to Dallas, I realize just how different the environment it.  As the traffic inches closer to Dallas, there is less yielding, less signals, more one finger waves.  No one lets anyone in and I see accident after accident just because people are in a hurry.

Epilogue.

They closed the Piggly Wiggly by us.  Which was one of the top two reasons I wanted to move to the country…to be able to say “I’m goin’ to the Piggly Wiggly!!!!”  alas, it rings hollow now.

I freakin’ love my house….seriously…this nice and the price is sa-weet!!!!  The air is different, I mean aside from the occasional whiff of cow business, it’s the same…but countrified.

And the stars.  Who knew there were so many stars in the sky?  not this city girl…and me and the Son can lay in the yard and just stare and stare…quite nice.

you know…you really can’t relive your glory days, unless you have friends that will not let you forget them.

and oh, how I love my friends.  and digital cameras…and Facebook…

we are almost there, the house is 95% packed and the lease is signed.  We have utilities, satellite TV, and the UHaul all taken care of…

we decided it was time to party!!!  one last throw down before we leave the casa…

Tanner decided that it was the night to make sure I was right and intoxicated…it was her mission of sorts.  Mission accomplished.  I believe her battlecry was “I’m gonna get you drunk…”  yea!!!  Drunk Stephanie…because I am so not that person usually…

There was a time in my life that I could bounce back from a night of debauchery the next day.  There was a time when I wouldn’t remember such a night.

This was not one of those nights.  I can remember every detail of the evening.  If I can’t, I have many that can remind me.

A few notes…

Note #1…do not let me drink Bud Light Lime.  Or Miller Chill.  Or anything with a lime taste to it.   This leads to sharpening of my gag reflex skills and I don’t like that.

Note #2…do not dare me to pants someone.  Sorry Tanner. 

Note #3…don’t dare me.  period.

Note #4…you are now forewarned…as I am a kissy kind of person (yeah…Ima kisser)…if you feed me alcohol, I will become a kissy drunk person.  do so at your own risk.

Note #5…do not expect my water volleyball skills to improve with each beer…they do not.

Note #6…do not leave your camera laying around or you will get lots of random, white out, blurry or too dark pictures of my face, my nose, my eyelid, my hairline or whatever else I am aiming at.    Again, sorry Tanner.

Note #7…if you post said pictures and link them to me…I am not going to be a happy recovering person…

Note #8…my beer goggles are magical…not only will they make everyone pretty…they will make me smarter, you smarter and they will render me hard of hearing.  (apparently I did not hear conversations that were directed AT ME!!!!)

Note #9…do not ask me for advice while I am drinking…even a little bit…as my advice will cause you to do things you will hold against me for the forseeable future. 

Yes…we had fun.  apparently, I had WAY alot of fun…and I don’t think I have a friend left that I haven’t kissed…which can be awkward…or not…depending on the friend…

it’s a good thing I have me an understanding girlfriend.  Because she hasn’t quit laughing at me yet.

and it took me 2 days to feel right…

*sigh*…I am not as young as I used to be.

John Huges 1950 - 2009

Does that answer your question?

Sincerely yours,

The Breakfast Club. “

I feel like a piece of my childhood was just taken away…*sigh*

Everytime I see it, I just laugh!!!  Enjoy!

and here is how it was made:

Babies!  Babies!  Babies!  it makes me smile…

that and the fact that the son knows EVERY word to Rapper’s Delight…awesome!!!