Some people go on fantastic family vacations and return with nice sun-tans, memorable stories, and pictures of the wonderful foods and fashions they took part in. These people are called Good Bloggers.

I return with a peeling face and an intestinal virus named Flounder, so this is the extent of my documentation for now:

Mother Says:

"Maybe you should marry someone from California. But you know, if you live really far away you won't get as many cute baby clothes, because how would I get them to you? Huh? Think about that."

12-Hour Car Rides 4 Lyyyyfe

The pre-pull:
One of many pulls. Certainly not the funniest, but the least revealing of things you just really don't want to see:

And on that note, I'm going to San Fran.

Because really, who's not going to San Fran?
The Day We Said Goodbye to George W. ("The Bush")

I was just sitting on my bed, minding my own business, playing my guitar without any clothes on, when my door creaked.

"Don't come in, I'm changing!" I shouted.

You would think that would be the best brother-repellent out there, but to my horror the door inched slowly open.

"No really, don't come in!" I full-on screamed in panic, "I'M NAKED!!!!!!!"

I lunged furiously at my door, wearing only my guitar as covering as if I belonged in a dirty comedy act.

Alas, my dog sat in the doorway, paw guiltily raised mid-scratch.
For some reason I still harbored anger in my heart for Jordan, the likeliest perpetrator.

I breathed a sigh of relief that there was no one else in the basement to share the moment.

My neighbors breathed a sigh of relief that all the windows in the entire house were wide open, preventing them from missing their free weekly entertainment.

...........and then my brother begged me to wax his back, to which I all-to-gladly obliged. He required a gentle hand and video footage. This is good news for you.
Sundays are juicy.

Just found this picture on my phone. Took it while cleaning the Primary room for the win.
Everything's slightly funnier when you're cleaning the Primary room for the win.

These children are doing great in the "service gifts" department. When I was 5, I ran around naked and proclaimed an above-average adorable factor to be my service gift to the world (although I never wrote that on a flower and taped it to the wall).

This is true.

I wish I were still in Primary.

But not in a weird way.

Ya....I'm done.

Happy Father Day

Next time you see Laura, mock her for her lack of pocket-change and her inability to sleep in for the next 3 months. You might get slapped in the face, but you will feel good about it.

And then go drink a tall glass of soda and eat a mint-chocolate brownie, just because you can.

I will be at home. Going to bed early. Eating veggies and protein shakes and energy beans. Incapable of sleeping past 6:00 for fear of inadequate training resulting in DEATH.

Dear Laura,
Bucket Lists are idealistic, you fool!
Next time, ctrl-alt-delete out of the marathon page and make yourself a dang quesadilla.
It will be better for everyone.

I'm doing it for the kids, because everyone wants a 26.2-stickered minivan mom (not true).
I hope the children like embarrassing cliches, because I'm disconcertingly stoked out of my mind.

What. Just. Happened.


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