OMG YWP

That's right, peeps.  I said, OMG!  And that's because OMGOSH just doesn't cut it today. 

Are you sitting down? 

Well, then maybe I better sit down too.

I am not the new RSP.  Or the new RSV.  Or even the new RSVP.

And I'm not the new PP.   

I'm the new . . . YWP. 

For those of you who don't speak Mormon acronym, that P stands for Prez. 

Insert Home Alone scream here: 

Or insert Edvard Munch's Scream:

Or just go ahead and insert both screams for alls I care:

This is exactly what I looked like when the Bishop called me into his office a few weeks ago and told me that the Activities Committee was not my perfect calling after all. 

Get this!  He actually handed me a chocolate covered macadamia nut when he retracted my calling and told me I was needed elsewhere.

I kid not.

What happened after that was all a blur.  I vaguely remember those three little words falling from the Bishop's mouth in slow motion. 

Yyyyyyyyyyyyyoung . . . . Wwwwwwwwomen . . . . Prrrrrrrressssssidenttttttt. 

The next thing I knew his first counselor was giving me the heimlich.  

"Are you insane?" I cried after the mac nut had been dislodged from my throat. "Has all that spandex cut off the circulation to your brain???? We don't even live here yet!"

"We're playing the odds," he said with a smile.

We then spent 45 minutes doing rock/paper/scissors, and arm wrestling and declaring thumb wars, but the universe was clearly on his side.  

So I told him the truth. "I didn't come all the way to Utah just to fall in lub with a bunch of teenage girls. Those girls are just going to try to crack open my stone cold heart. And when they do they'll let themselves in and make themselves comfortable. That's how teenage girls work!" 

He handed me another chocolate covered macadamia nut and told me to sleep on it. 

"I'll call you during your Sunday nap for an answer," he said. 

But I couldn't sleep on it--you all know that. Instead I tossed and turned and thought about grown up things like houses and schools and coaches and wards--not that I don't lub this ward--who wouldn't lub a ward where their home teacher does Chris Farley motivational speeches better than Chris Farley himself--but there are so many variables in my uncertain future and how can I make grown up decisions if I'm busy falling in lub with a bunch of teenage girls? Huh? Huh? Huh?

You get me?

(Plus, what about my dream? My grail? I've been trying so hard to make sure all my fam is warm and comfy so I can head on over the rainbow to find it.) 

(Just sayin') 

But these bridge-over-troubled-water-thoughts are sooooo last week. Just catching you up to speed.

Plus there's a lesson here: Sometimes a little tossing and turning ain't half bad for you.

Truth be told, while I was tossing and turning the thought did cross my mind that maybe it was time to give up blogging and pick up a more edgy addiction for the winter. But I couldn't even decide between depression or porn or prescription meds. That's how bad it had gotten! 

So I got up and slipped on my pink microfiber robe and my fuzzy sweater slippers and opened my blog to break the news that I was going to have to grow up and become a real boy and that I was going to have my shadow reattached that very next morning.  But when I opened my comment box, April was there and she was teasing me about becoming more Utarded with every holiday. At 2:30 a.m. that seemed like the funniest thing I'd ever heard and I couldn't stop LOL'ing out loud.

Then a blog post hit me. (And believe me I WILL hit it back next week, so stay tuned for my definition of utarded vs. mormonic vs. oxymormonic!)

For some odd reason that commet was a little life raft for me. And it's been uphill (both ways) ever since. 

You know how I hate to get verclempt, but I'm fanning my eyeballs right now because so many of you have unknowingly sent me little life rafts in my comment box since that day. 

MAHALO! I needed that. 

I now see, (thanks to my friends and a little Erma Bombeck and Akela winning the spelling bee and Hugh Jackman singing me to him from Australia) that with Gad, nothing is impossible.  

And that you can take the dummy out of Neverland, but you can't take Neverland out of the dummy. 

Amen! 

So bring it on, girlz!!!!!! There's plenty of stone-cold-heart to go around round here.