Bowling Class

Easily my favorite class at BYU has been bowling. I started as a straight-throwing gutterballer, and ended as a curve-throwing gutterballer. 

Here are my stats for this past semester, consisting of 60 games of bowling:

Strikes: 79

2 Strikes in a Row: 12

Turkeys: 1!!!

Spares: 100

Gutter Balls: 169

Average Score: 99

High Score: 143

Low Score: 55

Bowling a turkey (3 strikes in a row) could only be compared with winning the lottery, wearing a snuggie, or the joy of holding your newborn baby. Bliss.

I may have discovered in myself a bowler. 

Blast from the Past: Flies and Milk

When I was 17 years old I had the opportunity to spend the summer in France. 

One hungry morning I sat down to breakfast with the host mom I was staying with. To make me feel at home, they had bought some delicious chocolate cereal.

I poured a heaping bowl and eyed it wolfishly. I got from the cupboard a liter of milk (as the milk in France is ultrapasteurized, making it unnecessary to refrigerate) and dumped it in. 

As it cascaded out of the carton, there was a loud and distinct "PLOP" in my milk.

Fishing in my bowl, I discovered the biggest, hairiest fly to have ever lived. This creature could have eaten a butterfly without a problem. And it was lying there in my bowl of delicious cereal.

The host mom, rather stern, saw my predicament and merely scolded me on. As the culture demands, food is not to be wasted and I was expected to eat my generous serving.

I picked the beast out, placing it next to my bowl. I can still picture it - swamped in its own little puddle of ultrapasteurized milk. I painstakingly ate that giant bowl of cereal with the room-temperature milk, eying the fly the entire time.

Then the impossible happened about two-thirds of the way through the bowl:

     The fly got up, shook off, and flew away. 

Needless to say I did not finish the rest of my cereal that morning. 

Pomade

I flew home for my twin brother's wedding, and completely spaced bringing any gel for my hair. 

So I'm in the bathroom getting ready for the wedding, and found some really fancy pomade by Lancôme. Sitting in a sleek, solid black container, the pomade smelled like pheromones and screamed luxury. 

Rubbing it in my hair was a pleasure. I could feel it moisturizing and holding my hair in place. The hair looked great, and I went through the wedding festivities without hassle.

I stayed home a couple more days, using the fancy pomade each morning. 

My last day there, I decided to examine the pomade so I could purchase some for myself. It was hard to read, as the bottle was so dark and Lancôme written so prominently. Then on the very bottom I found the name:

Lancôme Anti-Wrinkle Cream. 

Great. I had been using anti-wrinkle cream to do my hair. Turns out it works pretty well.

Picture from the happy day. The anti-wrinkle cream definitely gave some shape to my hair.

Denim Eulogy

I survived the week without jeans...barely. It's a lot harder than one would think. In fact, I wrote a eulogy when I was at my lowest point: 

Denim was the lifeblood of the modernized world. It lived in every closet, was worn on every set of legs, and happily changed with trends from bell-bottoms to skinnies. It stood as a symbol of power and causality. To every American, its death is the downfall of comfort, style, and practicality. 

I think we all remember well when we first met denim.  It was warm and inviting and seemed to fit just right. Denim was with us throughout the years.  It was there with big pockets when we thought we needed them. It stood by faithfully as we turned our backs and experimented with cargo pants. It never complained when we asked it to be a lighter wash, or a fuller leg. It let us rip holes into it because we thought it would be cooler and it even let us wash it with a little bit of acid.

What will we wear on casual Fridays? What will we wear with our boots with the fur?  Its loss shall be felt not only in our hearts but on our legs.

As the great Neil Diamond once said, “I’d much rather be, forever in blue jeans.”

This exemplifies my garb during the jeanless week. 

Life Without Denim

Did you know how the Got Milk advertising campaign started?

Researchers got members of an upcoming focus group to go a week without milk. They thought it would be easy, but after the week they showed up to the focus group they discussed how difficult it was.

So naturally I'm in a research group and we want to see what life is like without denim. Therefore, I will be going the next week without wearing jeans, jean jackets, or denim hats.

I'm hoping to make a fashion statement with dress slacks and a t-shirt. If you see my in shorts while it's snowing, now you'll understand.

I'll have to set aside any ugly jean jackets for this week...

Ceiling Fans

Anyone else like the ambient sound of a ceiling fan at night? I do. If you were to turn it off I'd probably wake up. 

At 2:45am on Wednesday morning I heard a giant explosion. Glass shattered. My bed shook. I thought we were in World War III, with the enemy attacking Provo for some reason.

Jolting up I looked around frantically. My ceiling fan and light fixture was laying beside my bed. I was shocked as I peered into the hole it once belonged to in the ceiling.

After a life-threatening experience like this, I laid awake thinking about what would have happened if the giant, rotating blades had seared off my legs. Then I thought about what life would be like in a wheelchair. In my mind I chose a silver one with racing stripes.

Now I have a new, sexier ceiling fan that's bolted in real tight. 

Increased Attention

The world would be a better place if we couldn't talk on the phone and drive. In fact, I would argue our social lives would improve.

I was winding down a scenic road with some friends in my sports-like Ford Taurus when I suddenly got a phone call. I picked up and small talked with my friend Matt for a few minutes.

My friends were all laughing, windows down, so I told Matt I had to get going. He said something else that I couldn't really hear, so I wrapped up the conversation:

"Well great talking with you, I'll call you again soon," I yelled over the phone.

"No Jason, I don't think you heard me - my wife is pregnant. I'm going to be a father," Matt reiterated. 

My eyes widened, foot eased on the pedal, and I gawked openly as I suddenly processed what was said. Now there's no faking your way thorough not hearing that your friend is going to be a father. So I didn't even try. 

Needless to say I pay considerable more attention when my married friends call. I hope Matt will still name his child after me.

Actual picture of the drive. My Ford Taurus has had some extensive body work done. 

Implants

I have a great group in one of my classes - myself, two buddies, and a married girl.

Winning combination, right? We work well together, and yesterday in a meeting we were all working hard and my married friend decided to make an announcement.

"Guys, tomorrow I'm getting implants," she boldly stated.

Now, a lot runs through your head when a friend tells you she's getting implants. My mind was convoluted with awkwardness. I sat there dumbly, as did my two buddies. Eye contact was forbidden.

She then laughed and said, "oh, well teeth implants."


A collective sigh left our chests. Relieved, but still speechless, we chuckled hesitantly. Teeth implants never resounded so well.

I thought some cute puppy pictures would be better than pictures of implants. 

Free Pen?

We all have days where we forget a writing utensil in class.

The other day, I had forgotten my pen and had stopped by the university bookstore to buy a few of my overpriced books.

While signing for my credit card, I had used one of the bookstore pens in a cup there at the counter. Now, having suffered through my entire day without a pen and then having access to a million of them was just plain overwhelming. I have a greater understanding of a starving person walking through a bakery.

How the pens are so scrumptiously displayed one would assume they're up for grabs. "Would it be OK if I take one of these pens?" I asked hesitantly.

The clerk stopped what she was doing, glanced down at the delicious cup of pens, and then said "Well it depends - some people do." 

My mind raced as I tried to determine if that was a yes or a no. The clerk had turned my question into an ethical dilema of agency and free choice.

While still keeping my eyes fixed on hers, I reach over the cup of pens and slowly pull one out - like a treasure hunter carefully picking up some gold from its ancient tomb. Eyes straightforward, I place the pen smartly into my pocket and back away slowly. 

Luckily no alarms went off. No security stop. The clerk didn't dive over the counter. They must have been free pens after all.

Laser Tag

Going to a place named the "Family Fun Center" can only mean fun, right?


Well my little sister decided to have her birthday party at the aforementioned location, and one of the key attractions is the laser tag.


Walking into the futuristic arena, your white shirt suddenly becomes a glowing beacon. Shoelaces glisten. Even your white teeth gives away your location in the black lights. 


I was playing with a couple of my friends, Kelsey and Shinji, and all of the kids decided that it wouldn't be fair to have my buddy and I on the same team. Shinji and I play sports together every day. Waging on who will get the highest score among each other, we stealthily enter into the gaming area and begin playing.


Out-of-body experience hardly describes my time in the arena. Diving, tagging kids from across the map, and dodging lasers filled the 5-minute window. 


After the match I triumphantly hung up my vest and gun, asking Shinji with a smirk what his score was. 


"1,000" Shinji reported proudly. Scoffing, I told him my score - a whopping 3,500. Discussing the match, we walk outside of the arena to look at the overall scoreboard. Kelsey follows us out quietly, hardly having broken a sweat.


She cutely inquires her score and tells us her number. My buddy and I both do a double-take - 27,000! 


That's seven times better than our scores combined. She modestly shrugs, mentioning her previous shooting experience and how we could use some practice. 


Last time I ever play laser tag with a girl.

These pictures illustrate perfectly the range of skill. Actual picture of Kelsey training for the laser tag match.

Buttons

So I'm going back to school and decided I need some new jeans. Naturally the first place I go is...Abercrombie.


I walk in and the music begins rupturing my ears. The cologne is being piped through the air ducts. Naked models stare at me, challenging me to try on a pair of ripped jeans.


Why I'm 23 years old and still shop at Abercrombie is because (a) my buddy works there, and (b) I like how the jeans fit. 


I find a pair a like, try it on quickly, and purchase it. 


Wearing the jeans later in the week, I go to put them on and realize they don't have a zipper. Instead they have three buttons. 


I realize how this must be trendy, sexier, etc. But nonetheless when I'm in a bathroom with a slew of other guys, myself struggling to unbutton my pants - I look like a nutcase. 


A future college grad battling with his pants in the bathroom is not the image I wish to portray. So next time you see me in my new jeans, just compliment them and know that I've been practicing in my spare time. 

Lessons at a Park

Kids are so innocent. 


I was taking my nephew to the park and had a water bottle with me. Naturally the 3-year-old started getting thirsty after exhausting all possible game options to do with plastic fixtures and old tires.


Letting him take a swig, he took a deep gulp and lowered the water bottle in his hands. Thoughtfully he waited a second with the plastic container in hand. Tipping it slightly in his small hands to observe the light pass through the remaining water, he looked like an aspiring scientist on the brink of a discovery.


Then his eyes squinted, nose flared, and mouth protruded to let out the biggest sneeze his small body could muster. 


Spray flew in every direction, most noticeably all over the water bottle and might have even filled it some. He looked at me with his big eyes and gestured with the water bottle that he was done. 


I took advantage of the situation and taught him how to recycle a water bottle. He'll be a great recycler someday. 

Bryton, my nephew, sporting some goggles. These would have come in handy when he sneezed.

Manliness

Manliness is not directly related to courage.

At work yesterday I was riding down the freight elevator. Now this is not a typical elevator...imagine a moving cage that shakes as it moves, full of wooden carts and old fixtures.

Running through my mind is the age of the cord holding the heavy elevator up, amount of bugs stuck in the cobweb above me, or what snack I should have brought in case the elevator stopped.

As the cage is trembling to a stop I jam the "Open Door" button down. The metal door starts rising from the bottom up, and suddenly there is a loud scream.

A large man, in all black, jumps at the opening elevator door. Naturally my man instincts kick in as I jump back, aghas.

He starts laughing, hysterically, as I realize that it's one of my coworkers. His face was lit up in joy, contrasted greatly by my mine in pale white.

"Wow," I thought sarcastically as I stepped out of the elevator, "this is going to spread like wildfire." And it has throughout my work. Essentially I need a good way to get him back - and hopefully better than scaring him innocently in the freight elevator.

Mosquitos

I am tired of mosquitos for the following reasons:

• They suck blood. I faint when I see blood. Hence squishing a mosquito can be disastrous. 
• Mosquitos are everywhere. What frustrates me is they're always buzzing around your ears, and you never know if it's a swarm or just the same one doing his rounds.
• Buzzing. I think the only sound more annoying is a vuvuzela, and that's saying a lot. 

But I have a solution. Why are we wasting our time with insect repellent and electric zappers? The real fix is to just put out a big bag of blood. 

Mosquitos would be happy. We would be happy. Problem solved. 

Puppy Eyes

Everyone loves puppies. I'd stretch as far to say that everyone likes those little cute dogs that look at you with their giant eyes. Unfortunately, I fell for their trap.

A few days ago I was on my way to bed, and my family's two dogs were on the stairway blocking my asent to my room. They both stared deep into my eyes, all the way down to my heart. Then whimpered a little bit. Needless to say, the ogre in me softened its heart.

I figured that since I have a queen-sized bed and they are both little dogs, letting them sleep on the corner of my bed was hardly a sacrifice.

A red flag should have gone up when they hopped into bed right next to me. No, really. The poodle was nestled right beside my head and the yorkie tightly by my feet. They had me trapped.

Sleeping was another struggle. They kept waking up and barking for no reason and just walking around. After a restless night, I woke up at 5:00 am to finally kick them out. Overstaying their welcome is an understatement. As I round them up, I notice dog toys on my bed.

Yes - during the night they had actually gone and retrieved their slimy toys and brought them onto my bed.

To boot, one of them had relieved himself on my bedroom floor. Next time I feel like being charitable I'd rather go bathe the homeless before letting those little ruffians back onto my bed. I'm not falling for puppy eyes again.

I believe this to be an accurate representation of how my dogs sleep.

Fishing in a Dress

I really enjoy fishing. I also appreciate pretty girls in summer dresses. But fishing with my buddy wearing a summer dress was a new experience.

So one of my friends from high school, Josh, is getting married in a couple weeks. We planned this spectacular bachelor party up at a lake. The air was the optimal breeziness as the sun bounced around off the water.

Carrying all of the fishing supplies, we had an extra bag with us. Once we had set up all the fishing poles we told Josh we had a surprise for him. I'm sure he was expecting some manly gift - such as a knife or ax, but instead it was a red, low-cut summer dress. To boot we had gotten him a bra and panties.

Now seeing a hairy, bearded man in a dress is like watching the Star Wars kid. You feel terrible for the kid but can't stop watching. And laughing.

Reluctant at first, Josh came to accept the idea that he would be spending the afternoon a form-fitting dress. He surprisingly had no problems with getting the dress on, but did need some assistance with snapping on his bra.

The fishing was unforgettable - and not because of the fish. Being that we were on a motorboat, the wind kept blowing his dress up. I had to keep telling him when his bra was showing. Nearby fishers would steer very clear of our boat.

So girls, next time you don't think you look good in a dress, let these pictures ease your worries:

Josh "coming out." The hat was an added bonus.

Taken right before fishing. His bra is showing slightly.

Notice the placement of his arm to stop the wind.

Baby Gap

Comebacks should be extended to about two years after the original statement.

Getting home from a long day at school at BYU, my buddy Mark came and plopped down next to me on the couch. His pants seemed different. Out-of-place. Form-fitting. Being a great friend, I went ahead and told him:

"Nice pants, did you get them at Roxy?" I said, chuckling slightly to myself at my own wit.

In response, he just looks over and says, "Nice pants, did you get them at Baby Gap?" 

If bewilderment has a facial expression, my face was setting the standard. Of course, my other four roommates are already high-fiving Mark. 

My mind is racing, searching for any other retailer more embarrassing than Baby Gap. And it's still searching, almost two years later. 

Unfortunately, timeless quips have a way of sticking. So my nickname will be "Baby Gap" until I come up with an equally amazing comeback. So if you want to do a kind act of service today, please just think of a store worse than Baby Gap and help a brother out. 

For Your Enjoyment

I just learned that corn can have anywhere from 350 to 1,000 kernels. Also unrelated, for 85% of Americans there is a Wal-Mart within 15 miles of their home. 

Aside from these great facts, I'd like to share with you one my favorite youtube videos. If I ever have a child as cool as this, I will get him icecream every day.

Team Edward

                                            Middle names can be both a blessing and a curse.

If your parents are considerate, they'll name you something that flows nicely and won't set you too far apart from your peers. Such names as Eugene, Dick, or Bertha should be avoided just as a best-practice. 

One thing that parents should also be able to do is to see the future and accurately predict trends and potentially popular characters and avoid giving you these names. In my case, my parents should have looked into changing my middle name once the Twilight series was published.

Yes, my middle name is Edward.

It used to be that when I told people my middle name they would say "oh how nice." Now the reaction is, "no, really...what is it?" Then I have to explain that it really is Edward and the rest of the conversation will inevitably be about Twilight. 

So if you have to know, I am the inspiration of Team Edward. 

Blood Pathogen Training

At my internship at Sears, I have to do all sorts of online training. The subjects range from having to operate a cash register to how to set up a trap to catch cats.


Now I'm not a big fan of blood. Squeamish, faint-hearted, and passing out are all words that come to mind when I imagine the red substance. So of course Sears has an unnecessary training on what to do with a major blood spill. 


In my mind, the entire training should just say "Call 911."


But no. Graphic pictures are needed. Descriptions and examples are vivid. Everything is read out loud to you, just to ensure that the picture of a man holding his face with blood gushing out matches the story. 


Needless to say that was the most agonizing 20 minutes of my life. Now if there's a blood spill I'll remember to put on safety gloves before fainting. 

Shark Blood

We all have the friend who dresses a little too preppy. I believe karma and luck slowly build up until nature punishes them for being so well-dressed.

While my buddy and I were backpacking on the East Coast we stopped and visited our buddy in Atlantic City. He always wears polos and smells like oakwood, whereas my friend and I had been living out of our backpacks and showering at the occasional hostel.

The three of us decide to go charter fishing. My preppy friend in his Abercrombie shirt. We're all fishing and end up catching a shark. (I know, that's probably the manliest thing possible besides Bear Grylls). My buddy and I get shark blood on ourselves while wrestling it to the boat, and start calling eachother sharkblood.

While we're busy fighting with a shark, a bird flies overhead and drops a missile. It totally splats in his nicely-gelled hair. His nickname for the day? Birdpoop.

 

Sharkblood and Birdpoop

 

Shirts Off!

Is there anything more embarrassing than being caught with your shirt off with another man? Well yes, I guess if you were spotted at a renaissance fair all dressed up and playing a flute. 


So one day I had gotten home from the gym with my buddy Tyler. I decided to change really quick before leaving to our non-nerdy activity. 


I'm changing my shirt and Tyler goes into my bathroom to check himself out, and then at that moment I hear someone enter my house. We both go to see who it is. Both shirtless. 


Now the stairway downstairs is fairly narrow, and in our macho state we were both ready to pummel any robber. Needless to say we were pretty close as we stormed down the stairs. 


Then we both stop dead in our tracks. My roommate had arrived home with his new girlfriend. There stood two buff guys, squeezed on the stairs together with our shirts off. 

Electric Scooter

My grandma just celebrated her 80th birthday! So as a present she was given one of those old-people electric scooters. As I walked her to her house after her birthday dinner, she was telling me about the vehicle.


She said, "well it's red, shiny, and goes pretty fast. I don't really want it...would you like it?" 


Right as my grandma said this she opened up her door and voila! There stood the beautiful piece of work. I examined it, much like I'm sure a Picasso connoisseur would behold a newly-discovered piece of artwork. Running my hands over it, I couldn't help but slip onto the leather seat and test its padded comfort. 


The key was already in the ignition.


I revved it up, you could almost taste the voltage power. Accidentally, I pushed the wrong accelerator and it started beeping. I looked around to see what was the matter as the masterpiece accelerated backwards. 


It even has a "backing up" sound! 


Overwhelmed, I parked it and got off. Something this good needs to be saved and treasured. There comes a time in every persons life when they need to go joyriding in an old-person scooter. Tonight was not that night. Until soon, shiny red scooter.

Facebook Pranks

I think we've all had that time that our friends accessed our facebook account. It's a terrible, sinking feeling to know that your gender was wrong for the past month.


Before I started dating Kara, she mistakenly left her facebook up. We were going to be driving all the next day, so I figured this would be a perfect opportunity. But what to do?


Then it hit - change her birthday to the following day.


As we're driving, she keeps getting all of these "happy birthday" texts and phone calls. She was clueless. Confused, because these were her "true" friends calling to genuinely wish her happy birthday. There is no way that everyone could be in on this.


A smile itched its way across my face until she read out loud one of her texts and I burst out laughing. Luckily she thought it was funny. I made sure to wish her happy birthday before she could change it back.


If you're looking for good ways to change someone's profile, here are a few suggestions:

• Change their gender. Whenever they post something, it will show the world that they posted something on "his" or "her" wall.
• Subtly change their activities. Throw in "medieval club" or "polka dancing" to their list. They'll never notice.
• A status update that will get people's attention but is still realistic for them. Perhaps "was late to work because I ran over a cat." 

One of my recent pieces of work, you can hardly notice the "Watching Twilight," "Medieval Club," or "Dancing in the Rain." An added touch is the matching capitalization of his profile.

My Dishwasher Theory

Don't you hate clearing the dishwasher? I sure do, and so I've come up with a great idea:


Have two dishwashers. 
One is always clean and the other dirty. 


Thus eliminating having to ever clear one. To illustrate my point, let's do dinner.


Setting the table I take the dishes out from the "clean" dishwasher. We eat dinner, and it's a mess. 
I then take all of the dirty dishes and put them into the "dirty" dishwasher. Once it's full I run it, and then the dishwashers change roles from "clean" to "dirty." 


Great idea? I think so. 


Currently my dishwasher sounds like those drums from Jumanji. Really every time it's running I think a band of wild monkeys is going to come crashing through my window. This may impede my enthusiasm for two dishwashers in my home. 

Maybe it would be an excuse to grow a sweet beard too...

My Most Awkward Moment

So I used to work at a childcare within a sports club. This pretty much means that it was poor Jason working with about twenty women. My daily break was to take the kids swimming.

Whenever we'd go I instantly became the Pool Monster - with all of the kids attacking me and holding onto my arms, head, or anything else they could get their hands on. Most of them were pretty little, but throughout the summer the kids started becoming stronger swimmers. The parents loved it, and oftentimes would watch. 

One day as I was wrestling the kids, a couple of them decided it would be a good idea to dive underwater and grab my swimsuit. At the time there were about 50 kids swarming me, and I would have hardly noticed had they not pulled my swimsuit - down.

Immediately I can feel the free flow of water around my nether regions, and try frantically to free up my arms so I can pull my swimsuit up. I can almost feel the parent's eyes as I flail around to correct the placement of my suit. I could just imagine some newswriter being there in the room, just waiting to cover a story on a pantless man in a childcare. Luckily I got it fixed quickly, and that was the end of my Pool Monster career.

Yesterday I played "chicken" in the pool, and that seems much more promising to my pool future. 

Official Statement

Just as sure as I love fanny packs and puppies, I guarantee that all of my stories are true. Yes, even the one about me being scared of the Easter Bunny. Because I appreciate my loyal fans so much, please enjoy my favorite youtube video:


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K0DmtmmFEVo



If you're not rolling on the ground laughing, this maybe this will put you over the edge:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cIwTYL1fwJk

Oh Sister Missionaries!

I love BYU’s candy counter. I’ve consequently gotten to know about everyone who works there, and never pass up the opportunity for a free sample.

Today I was talking with them about how the women Broadcast Journalism majors have to cut their hair to be on TV. The conversation shifted to when you submit your mission papers you have to include a picture. It’s a fact that the good-looking Sister missionaries can get into more doors, and consequently have a lot of success.

Then I say: “It’s funny how good looks and sex-appeal play a vital role in even missionary work.”

The girls at the candy counter nod their heads in agreement. Then freeze.

I get that pit feeling in my stomach, just like a little kid when he’s caught under the kitchen table shoveling down candy. With a quiver, my eyes follow the frozen candy counter girl’s eyes – to right beside me.

There stands an elderly sister missionary, just staring at me. I read her nametag twice, hardly believing that I just said sex appeal and missionary work in the same sentence in her presence. Then she laughs, and says that she agrees with a smile.

All of us are dumbstruck. I stare back at the candy counter, make some excuse that I have to leave, and ran-walked out of there. 

The worst part of this experience hit me as I left – I didn’t even get my free sample today! 

Two of the most successful missionaries in my mission. Good looks correlation? 

Snuggie Night

I know. Just reading the title you know that this story has a special place in my heart.

One of my buddies had told me about the snuggie night at the Utah Flash game last weekend. Apparently all those wearing snuggies would be let in free. Immediately I imagined the Celestial Kingdom – everyone robed in a warm snuggie, cheering for a basketball team with free movement of their arms.

I was in.

After some convincing I talked my girlfriend into going with me. Choosing from my selection of four snuggies was difficult, but she refused to let me wear my pink snuggie in public. We go in matching blue. Cute, huh?

So we pull into the parking lot, and it’s full but at the same time seems desolate. None of the static electricity of snuggies in the air. I’m anxiously pressing toward the entrance like a dog after a bone.

We walk into the stadium. There were lights. People. But no basketball. Snuggie Night was a different day!

Two people in a giant arena in their snuggies. Luckily there was an event happening – a home show, so at least we could pretend that we were doing something in our apparel. The rest of the night was fun, and we got all sorts of neat stuff at the home show.

Perhaps the secret to any good night is to start with snuggies and see what happens.