Snatched.

Movie night with Billy and Josh...good times, great oldies. There's something to be said about Brad Pitt with an Irish accent and no shirt. Wait, visualize, continue. Hot tub time and 80s jams with the boys was the perfect end to a great Friday night. Here's to more movie nights to come. =)

Parentals are on there way here. ETA any time now. Get hype. =P

Note to self: I was just watching RainMan on TBS. You know the scene in the phone booth where Raymond farts? Well, apparently you are not allowed to say "fart" on tv. It was dubbed out. Yup. "Did you fart?" became "Did you pass gas?" What the hell??? You can say "ass," but not "fart?"

Burn Baby Burn.

It is friggin hot hrrre. Jesus Mary and Joseph. This is hott.

And thank the lord that the gym camp is in this week has ac that works...or else there'd be 16 campers and 3 coaches in a bad place right now.

Camp is fun. I'm stoked to get to work with Billy...he sees and teaches the game the way I do, so it is a great working relationship. I'm also thinking he'll be able to give me some pointers on my game so I might be able to salvage my dying arm.

Note to self: Ritas is awesome. 27 is old. Tans fade fast. SO, the moral of the story should be to eat what tastes good, deal with getting fat cuz you can't help it...and embrace the lard to keep your tan.

Automobile?

It's official. I hate car maintenance.

I have spent 10 hours at the garage in the past 2 days...and my car is STILL not fixed! They have conveniently discovered another problem with my posessed car that, of course, costs more money. When all is said and done, I will have spent over a grand on my car in the past 2 weeks in parts and labor.

What the hell?!? I could understand and validate this outrageous cost if I were careless and wrecked my car. But all of this is because my car started wiggin out on my way back from Florida.

I'm beginning to wonder if the counter dudes just like hanging out with me so they're wrecking my car to keep me coming back.

Note to self: Imported alcohol does wonders for the soul.

What is too old?

When do we become too old? Is it a specific number only...or...is it tied to an event?

I think we'd all agree that there comes a time when you are too old to sleep with the light on. Or we can be too old to publicly announce that we successfully used the bathroom. Or we can be too old to really want to play in the ball bath at Chuck E. Cheese. (or perhaps maybe that is more of knowledge of what is actually IN the ball bath that causes us to not go in)

But are there things that we are never too old to do? And if so, how do we determine what age that occurs? Am I at age 27 too old to be a competitive athlete? In NFL years I'd be the equivalent of a 60 year old, yet, on the PGA tour, I'd be about 5 years old.

Are we ever too old to enjoy coloring? or cartoons? or water baloon fights?

Or are you simply too old once you're 21?

Note to self: Am I too old to play games?

Hold your horses.

Back from Florida. A good vaycay overall...filled with sistertime, beachtime, and tanlines. Everything was decent except for dirty old men's stares, Carol's flight change, and the 15 hour ride home due to retarded drivers. Ah well. C'est la vie.

First camp has started. Yippee.

School starts in a dreaded 3 weeks. What happened to all the time I was going to have to work on AP psych stuff, revamping lessons for English, and reading? Vanished! Aye.

Instead of a note to self, I have a new thought for today. A question.

Do people really change? If so, how long should one wait for the necessary change? If not, what the hell am I doing with my life?