i'm the boss applesauce.

Anxiety:

Lynnette (mom) texted me last night and said "Did I tell you we're staying in Tremonton tomorrow?"
my response, delayed by a few hours "Why the Heck?"
So Jerry writes me "Hi girl. Your mom is asleep so I will explain. We thought leaving at eight Tremonton was the best choice. Twin falls or Burley was too far. But we at least wanted to get out a couple hours. By doing that we should avoid most traffic."

Gr8.

I mean... there is ...yup! Nothing. in Tremonton. I mean... but we are only sleeping there. But for some reason there is just something unsettling about that for me.

This is the picture that comes up when you google Tremonton and go to the website. I mean... this is the very best picture I could find. It's the library? It looks more like a house built in the 1970's.

My point is... if you would be interested in texting or talking to me on the phone let me know. Because at about 10 pm tonight, I will need comfort and companionship.

Fond memories most recently made:

My friends and I went and painted ceramic goods for our wonderly mothers last week and here are mine, cass's and syb's. As far as I know every mom loved their sentimental gifts.

Adrienne and I had creative corner and made macaroni frames yesterday and they turned out so dope.

also. we took pictures to put inside the frames and this is the one we liked best.

Also, last night's date to the batting cages and mini golfing both of which Bray & I dommed all other chumps who might have been secretly trying to compete with us. We proceeded to go the park and I believe I have bragging rights being the first (court, syb, you remember the video of you saying what you wanted to do at the park... it was done.) to roll down the hill at the park. haha.

Cassidy absentmindedly forgot that her name is not my name. "Platinum Protection this is Sarah" is what she greeted the sales rep with. Her cheeks are a leeetle bit pink.

Chapping my azz.

I am breaking out into hives in different places and under different circumstances every day and it's never convenient to have hives. So ... until I get back I can't go to the doctor and it is beyond me what I am allergic to.

A man came to the door yesterday at the Sybrowsky's where I live and when I answered the door he said "Is your mom home?" Seriously. Seriously? I mean I know that it would be nearly impossible for a person my age to own a home that nice, I mean i'm not Ryan Sheckler or Lindsay Lohan, but seriously. I'm 20, and I COULD have my own home. And when I do get married I will probably still look just how I look. So, if someone comes to my door and asks "Is your mom home?" I will not hesitate to suit up and soak the mofo.