this pic is for my mom and my relatives, if ur not related to me then totally skip over this post because I look SO WEIRD!!!! i swear this is the only recent pic of me i cld find. i look so weird and im making a totally retarded face but i thot the photography was kinda kewl and Abi looks SO HOT!! i luuuuve u Abi, ur a total milf!!! — haha!! muah and kisses! neways, good 4 my humility to post this pic so haha, PTL! muah and kisses to all!!! ILY!!!

We don’t know how to say this, but we both felt strongly that we want you to know how we feel about you. It’s hard to say these things to your face sometimes because you intimidate us with your man vibes (but this is through no fault of your own, we think your man vibes are awesome. Please don’t stop). Angel and I want you to know a fundamental truth that is shared equally between us.

We think you’re totally awesome!

Angel is afraid to let you know this because she’s afraid of rejection. I’m afraid to tell you because I just don’t know how to put it into words. Everyone else knows how we feel about you, and together, we have built up the courage to finally tell you to your….well, face. We’re both afraid of how you will react, please don’t stop acting normal around us. Please continue to be your normal and awesome self, it’s just that…..to us, you are perfect. And we will love you until the hair no longer grows on your lovable face.

Much love,
Jules and Angel

I think I’ve developed a hernia and it’s making me question everything.

Who am I?

I miss Clara’s little laugh.

Marky said he would marry me if I bought him this funny $4,000 guitar. It may or may not be worth it, I haven’t decided yet.

I am sometimes overwhelmed with an inflated sense of my own awesomeness.

I don’t know who to interview next.

What is up with you people that tell Angel she can sing? You’re giving her false hope.

Sometimes I just want to walk into the middle of a crowded room and shout “It’s so hard always being the strong one.”

I’ve realized that far too often I mistake hormones for battles.

I live in fear of an appendicitis attack.

I promise my next post will be dense with substance.

You know, like “How to Be Happy Anyhow” except cooler and without the English accent. (what?)

So there’s a dilemma that people like myself and Jules face daily. Especially since we are in a “hug cult” (really that would be more truthful than “sex cult” seeing as…well…THERE IS NO SEX!!!!! WHERE IS ALL THE SEX???? in the name of all that is holy…..)

So saying that - we feel that what we have to say is vital to our being able to survive this said “Hug cult”

You see - we get hugged a lot. As most likely you do as well. Except. Well. You’re either a short female - or a male.

If you are a male - there is never any problem. Your chest area is clear of objects of desire which unwittingly get shoved in other peoples happy smiling faces.

If you are a short woman well - there should be no problem. Good on you.

So where were we.

Ah yes - the objects of desire. I mean - I don’t desire them. but I like to think they are DESIRED by OTHERS. *hint*

So here’s what usually happens.

You’re in a room. There might be people, there might not - it doesn’t matter. All that matters is you know at some point your eyes will lock with another’s and you will immediately see them start to flinch in a “do I need to hug them?” sort of flinch. You can tell when someone feels they need to do this to you, you can see their hug muscles starting to go into gear (as a bonifide “hug cult” member, I can spot this from miles). So you both start towards each other - knowing that you must engage in your Christian duty of the required frontal contact.

As a tall women, you know that this can only end in sorrow and you feel the devastation that is ahead. You feel sorry, mostly for the unwitting person that is pursuing their God given duty to hug.

They just don’t know what their getting into.

This scenario can only end in these following ways.

1. You are much shorter than us - so short in fact that the top of your head fits nicely under our breasts. This, while not TOO awful can be a little unnerving as the next time I see you across the room I’ll be thinking “ah - there goes my favorite boob shelf”. I don’t feel too bad about this, as mostly I giggle, but I hope you never find out.

oops.

2. You are short. Not boob shelf short but something much, much worse. You’re a boob nestler. Yes - thats right - my boobs become the pillow in which you NESTLE your furry little head. And while I actually don’t mind this happening (what else do I use them for anyway? See above for the “WHERE IS ALL THE SEX” part)- I know that for you it can be horribly awkward. The good news is - I have a way out for you, which I’ll explain later. (BTW, the banner of this blog has some excellent “boob nestler” shots for your reference)

3. You. well. Lets just say, that I know the top of your head, better than the back of my hand. I know what shampoo you use, and when you switch products. Why? Because you’re just about tall enough to fit right under my nose. Thats right - you’re a nose shelf. I’m still struggling with if this is better than the previously stated shelf. Let me know what you think.

4. You’re just my height. So much just my height in fact that we meet, with arms outspread, and never actually get to complete the hug stance because our arms clash in mid air. Which usually becomes the much desired arm flapping dance. First, I move my arms up - so do you - no go there, so one of us moves our arms down - so does the other one, once again we’re trapped. Back and forth we go until someone begins to go diagonal into the pretzel hug. This really, is our only hope. If you are anywhere near my height please approach me with your arms in this manner: “left arm” at 2:00 and “right arm” at 8:00. Please practice in the nearest mirror. This would mean a lot to me. I will know what your intentions towards me are if I see you approach in this stance and will respond with my matching yet polar opposite “10:00 and 4:00″ stance. Thank you. This will make the world a better place.

5. If you are taller than me…then well…you’re taller than me. In which case, if you are a male then please…

…MARRY ME AND HAVE LOTS OF SEX AND BABIES!! (with me)

As for the rest of you - it may feel that there is no hope. But do not despair. All we have to do is come to grips with our lot in life and instead of run from it we must embrace it! (pun intended)

I propose a secret code. If you approach me and tell me that I’m both compelling AND rich - then I’ll hug you with such pizzaz and fervor that all awkwardness over your height and my height will be shelved (heh, heh) We’ll know that there is no perfect hug, but it won’t matter because we are in a HUGGING CULT and we LOVE IT.

Amen?

Okay so I know this isn’t really a SOLUTION, but at least I will know that you know that I know that you know that we BOTH know - which means I’ll be able to sleep better at night.

If I didn’t already have a cause that I’m dedicating my life to, I would take up this one:

bancomicsans.com

We are summoning forth the proletariat around the globe to aid us in this revolution. We call on the common man to rise up in revolt against this evil of typographical ignorance. We believe in the gospel message “ban comic sans.” It shall be salvation to all who are literate. By banding together to eradicate this font from the face of the earth we strive to ensure that future generations will be liberated from this epidemic and never suffer this scourge that is the plague of our time.
–bancomicsans.com

Amen and amen! Comic sans immediately puts me in a bad mood, I thought I was weird but now I know I’m not the only one and this has made me happy!

Can I still be a part of the marching band even if I can’t harmonize with Swedish midgets?

Firstly and foremostly, thanks everyone for your prayers against el raging fires. No Family Homes burned - we prayed, He answered, and we are glad. Praise God!

On a freeday not too long ago when I had more time than things to do, I meandered around the archives of Jason’s blog and found what I believe is the best piece of historical fiction I’ve ever read. I was moved, I really was. You could start a whole thriving cult around the legend of The Jason Phenomenon. It’s long so read it when you’ve got more than a minute to spare. Don’t rush through it. Savor it. Savor the sincerity.

My favorite part is the ending paragraph:

Andy sat on his bed for seven days, trying to understand what had happened. Maybe it was his imagination but the fact remained that Jason was Gone. The community also remained baffled at his strange disappearance, and worried for Andy’s sanity. A week later Andy immersed from his room with a smile on his face. “I know what happened”, “Jason’s alright”. “I know what happened”. “He walked, just like Elijah he walked with God, that’s why his body is gone”. “He told me. I saw him. He told me, I swear. He told me that In exchange of his forgiveness that I must forgive.” “I think I understand.” The community, though totally confused somehow understood. and to this day, in Hualtico Mexico, there is talk of a miracle. A miracle of forgiveness. And this is the story of The Jason Phenomenon.