Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

It’s been two weeks, so where should I begin? Let’s just go with stream of consciousness for the theme of this post. These occurrences are in no particular order. No names, places, or things have been changed to help protect the guilty. ***

is steadily becoming more and more enjoyable. I have absolutely nothing to complain about. Although there is a large possibility that could very well change the week after next when I have to go on call for the first time at the hospital, that should be some good fun.

For me, the perfect height for a girl is when I can give her a hug and my chin rests perfectly on the top of her head, or when she hugs me from behind and her head fits right between my shoulder blades.

I now have a personal assistant.

I can’t wait until formal. It’s going to be a blast. I am so pumped because I believe that my dance card already has like 3-4 names on it. The reason for this is that last year, I think I danced once, MAYBE twice, and the ladies noticed this and decided to take it into their own hands to try to turn me into something other than the world’s most embarassing white dancer.

*stifled barfing noises*

My personal assistant is currently drawing up some papers for applications for mutually agreeable nights out on the town, as well as their corresponding acceptance and repudiation letters.

I have taken up running again and it gives me a great chance for me to just clear my head of stuff that is on my mind. It’s amazing to me how cathartic running truly is (cue the cheesy narration for the Nike running commercial from What Women Want).

I went and saw The Interpreter last night, it’s a decent flick, a well put together thriller… “for my money it doesn’t get any better than when he sings ‘When a Man Loves a Woman’”… whoops, what I meant to say was that for my money it doesn’t get any better than when Brian jumps out of his seat in a NON-scary part of the movie that was already shown in the previews.

I don’t know if I’m the one to come up with this, but I think there is such a phenomenon as “D-Whipped” or “D-Dubbed” for short.

I am with someone who let three baby kittens die.

This week I was able to help console someone with nothing other than a hug and an open ear (or two). That kind of stuff brightens my day when I can help someone maybe see a situation a little bit differently and to not think that something is as hopeless as they may imagine it to be.

The organ guy at CTK frustrates me when I am trying to concentrate in silence during Adoration.

Thursday was Pat Hefferly night at The Rock, there is visual evidence of this.

I am going to carefully orchestrate a plan to where my son(s) will grow to love the game of baseball first, and football, hockey, and basketball second.

I am slowly learning how to remove myself from a situation, like this past Monday, that if I were to stay longer I may say things to people that I would regret.

I am very much excited for what the future will bring, as well as for a few of my *wink, wink*

*stifled barfing noises*

***

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