Well, I was preparing to leave my own cute pitures in order to properly respond to Gabe, but I'm too lazy and leery to download that software that would let me do just that. The first was going to be a duck and her ducklings. The second was going to be a baby daschund on a hotdog bun, and the third was going to be a picture of Kyle and Adam as sophomores. Top that Mr. I have created infant female offspring that can smile on command! We all know that was a staged picture! How'd you do it Gabe? Photoshop? Claymation? ILM help you out a bit? Just admit it now.
Ah, I still think my picture of Kyle and Adam playing video games in Tewinkle was cute. And it was a great intro to Gabe's question about keeping the college life alive after the dirt covers your coffin called marriage. Hmmm. No, it sounds great. I still play video games with Robbie when he rents an Xbox. I feel like it's college all over again minus class and lots of people and Minnesota crappy weather and big cities and Chipotle and every other good thing I can think of back at school. Actually, many would say I'm better off here than at Crown. I've already had a girlfriend, I'm surrounded by apartments full of really cute girls, I watch Friends every afternoon with perfect regularity, I'm not on the meal plan. Maybe back to college life isn't so inviting. And Gabe, to retire, you have to first have a job, so unless this job I applied for today comes through I won't be able to retire from anything. Give me the walker and sponge baths right now! I spend my day wrapped up in a blanket, with my glasses halfway down my nose anyway. Switching topics slightly, I treated myself to my first Coldstone in Missoula after dropping off an application this afternoon. It was wonderful, as always.
Oh, and I lost my directions to the wedding, too. They were on the back of my invitation. (This is a joke; please, nobody take offense)
Ya knowLynnea, let me tell you a little story about how I got lost one night while out with a girl. It was the spring of 2000 and I was spending time with a sophomore named Adriel when we left one night to get her home before her curfew (I actually ran into her this last Christmas while wearing my "Vote for Pedro" shirt; she was, of course, looking great with short black hair and a male companion that looked like could have been my dad -no better way to feel like an adolescent...anyway). We actually drove straight to her house, and found that we had a little bit of extra time, so we drove across town and ended up back at her house about thirty minutes later. I took a lot of flak for those lost minutes because everybody accused me of making up something to cover up a little bit of window fogging time, and that is just not true because I would gladly at this point in my life look back and reveal all of my wild exploits in high school (the shortest book except for "Kurbis, the Sweetest Guy I Know" and "Mr. Magstadt goes to Washington). Nothing happened, and all this to say "I'm an eight-ball shootin', double-fisted drinkin' son of a gun"- wait, that was the song that was just on, not me. I'm really not here for the party. Like I was saying... all this to say that, if anybody wants to say that "getting lost" is always a great excuse when you're with somebody special, and I know it really happens, except in my case it didn't, but either way, I'm trying to say that I understand, Lynnea. Except I was in high school and she had a curfew.... so maybe that was a bad story to tell. Maybe I was trying to say that when a girl looks at you with giant blue eyes and says "just drive," it's really difficult to say no. No, that wasn't it. Maybe I was trying to say that all things come to an end. Or... maybe I'm all messed up because I keep dreaming I'm going to die, and so all those subconscious regrets are coming to the surface in a series of hopeful story-telling blogs.
By the way, the Frankie Goes to Hollywood song, "Relax," isn't anything like what was on Zoolander.
So I did want to bring up a topic for debate, if that is even a remote possibility here. Maybe this isn't even an issue, but I think it has some substance in today's world. My general, and maybe stupid question is actually directed to those females with us that wish to inform me about something: How do you want men to interact with you? In a chivalric way, or with egalitarian apathy? Remind yourself how these two paradigms are diametrically opposed, and if there's another solution, I'd love to hear about it, but having dealt with it on some minor levels recently, I wanted to know what women want (what a futile desire). Just a topic that all of you can ignore .
Lynnea, classes? Oh, and what is St. Thomas' #? Not that I'm going to try to call someone there, just wanting to keep a bit of pressure on those guys to.... keep you... not that they won't anyway. I'm stupid.
One last suggestion: Never mistake tiny pieces of jalapeno in your shredded cheese package for mold or you'll throw away two or three bags because you think it's gone bad.
Happy Chinese New Year (that really comes from Annie).
Ah, I still think my picture of Kyle and Adam playing video games in Tewinkle was cute. And it was a great intro to Gabe's question about keeping the college life alive after the dirt covers your coffin called marriage. Hmmm. No, it sounds great. I still play video games with Robbie when he rents an Xbox. I feel like it's college all over again minus class and lots of people and Minnesota crappy weather and big cities and Chipotle and every other good thing I can think of back at school. Actually, many would say I'm better off here than at Crown. I've already had a girlfriend, I'm surrounded by apartments full of really cute girls, I watch Friends every afternoon with perfect regularity, I'm not on the meal plan. Maybe back to college life isn't so inviting. And Gabe, to retire, you have to first have a job, so unless this job I applied for today comes through I won't be able to retire from anything. Give me the walker and sponge baths right now! I spend my day wrapped up in a blanket, with my glasses halfway down my nose anyway. Switching topics slightly, I treated myself to my first Coldstone in Missoula after dropping off an application this afternoon. It was wonderful, as always.
Oh, and I lost my directions to the wedding, too. They were on the back of my invitation. (This is a joke; please, nobody take offense)
Ya knowLynnea, let me tell you a little story about how I got lost one night while out with a girl. It was the spring of 2000 and I was spending time with a sophomore named Adriel when we left one night to get her home before her curfew (I actually ran into her this last Christmas while wearing my "Vote for Pedro" shirt; she was, of course, looking great with short black hair and a male companion that looked like could have been my dad -no better way to feel like an adolescent...anyway). We actually drove straight to her house, and found that we had a little bit of extra time, so we drove across town and ended up back at her house about thirty minutes later. I took a lot of flak for those lost minutes because everybody accused me of making up something to cover up a little bit of window fogging time, and that is just not true because I would gladly at this point in my life look back and reveal all of my wild exploits in high school (the shortest book except for "Kurbis, the Sweetest Guy I Know" and "Mr. Magstadt goes to Washington). Nothing happened, and all this to say "I'm an eight-ball shootin', double-fisted drinkin' son of a gun"- wait, that was the song that was just on, not me. I'm really not here for the party. Like I was saying... all this to say that, if anybody wants to say that "getting lost" is always a great excuse when you're with somebody special, and I know it really happens, except in my case it didn't, but either way, I'm trying to say that I understand, Lynnea. Except I was in high school and she had a curfew.... so maybe that was a bad story to tell. Maybe I was trying to say that when a girl looks at you with giant blue eyes and says "just drive," it's really difficult to say no. No, that wasn't it. Maybe I was trying to say that all things come to an end. Or... maybe I'm all messed up because I keep dreaming I'm going to die, and so all those subconscious regrets are coming to the surface in a series of hopeful story-telling blogs.
By the way, the Frankie Goes to Hollywood song, "Relax," isn't anything like what was on Zoolander.
So I did want to bring up a topic for debate, if that is even a remote possibility here. Maybe this isn't even an issue, but I think it has some substance in today's world. My general, and maybe stupid question is actually directed to those females with us that wish to inform me about something: How do you want men to interact with you? In a chivalric way, or with egalitarian apathy? Remind yourself how these two paradigms are diametrically opposed, and if there's another solution, I'd love to hear about it, but having dealt with it on some minor levels recently, I wanted to know what women want (what a futile desire). Just a topic that all of you can ignore .
Lynnea, classes? Oh, and what is St. Thomas' #? Not that I'm going to try to call someone there, just wanting to keep a bit of pressure on those guys to.... keep you... not that they won't anyway. I'm stupid.
One last suggestion: Never mistake tiny pieces of jalapeno in your shredded cheese package for mold or you'll throw away two or three bags because you think it's gone bad.
Happy Chinese New Year (that really comes from Annie).
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