Could there seriously be another dummy somewhere out there who thinks Sean Kingston's eyeballs are stuck on shawty's plate?
Do you think it's my soul mate?
Or do you think maybe, heaven forbid, I'm not as dumb as I think I am (and Sean Kingston needs to work on his enunciation?)
Either way, it's oddly tragic, being as I'm too old to change my self perception or find my soul mate.
Speaking of eyeballs, last night mine were stuck on John Mayer's plate. NO JOKE! I was sitting across from him at the dinner table. He's not as cute as Jack Johnson, and he spoke to me in scrawny, scruffy tones, which I had to strain to make out.
"I will see you at my next concert, right?" he said, and then he winked at me.
All I could do was nod and think, I HAVE GOT TO BLOG ABOUT THIS!
But then I woke up.
I laid there in the darkness thinking DANGIT and trying to decide if I should blog about it anyway, when my thoughts were interrupted by squeals of delight. I looked at the clock--4:35 a.m. and my kids were still wide awake. They were having a brat pack slumber party with Martha's kids and two other former rugrats who grew up in the zLaie hood before blowing that taco stand and moving to the mainland.
So anyways, I laid there in the dark thinking DANGIT and GO TO SLEEP RUGRATS! completely oblivious to the fact that tomorrow--which for you is today and for me was yesterday--was going to be the best day ever!
(BTW, how many best day evers do we get? Is there a best day ever quota? I vote Utards should get more best day evers since Utah is the most superlative state in the union.)
So what does a Utarded best day ever look like?
I thought you'd never ask.
It's full of friends and flour and four wheelers. And fluffy white snow. Loads and loads of the most bee-U-tiful fluffy white snow.
And I am barefoot in the kitchen making fresh hot rolls and homemade chocolate chip cookies, and chopping broccoli for my piping hot soup--a few of my favorite things--while the kids run in and out dripping wet and tracking mud all over and saying BEST day ever!
It's as close to living in a Thomas Kinkade puzzle as I'll ever get (unless I find my soul mate or meet John Mayer.)
What started out as a simple snowball fight between old friends this morning . . .
turned into a full-blown four-hour funfest (with a little help from some of the cute boys in the neighborhood who showed up on four wheelers.)
you go, girl!
One of these boys is not like the others . . .
Not only did I open my blinds, I pulled my blinds all the way to the top so I could have a better view.
So that's what the best day ever looks like.
At least from my living room window.
As for the rest of the brat pack back in Hawaii, WISH YOU WERE HERE!
Or vice versa.