Dun dun dun.

Flea Massacre.

The other morning I woke up and went into the bathroom. There on the floor, for all, well me, to see, was a battle field. A battlefield where the fleas were battling the moths, and the fleas lost. There were seriously like 30 dead fleas on the ground. I should have known, what with the red sun rising and all that.

That's a dying flea's hand by the way.---

Ice Cream Social.

There was an ice cream social tonight at the church. It was for all the wards in our new building. Well actually it's older than our old building, but it's our new building. Get it? Anyways, it was pretty fun. I talked with some friends and had a good time. Then we left, I came home and realized- my two good friends are gone and I have nothing to do. Puh huh huh. So, I made a delicious hamburger for dinner, and started writing on my blog.

Terrible Accent.

I watched Ever After with Krista and Jenny last night after softball (see below) and discovered something. Drew Barrymore's accent ruins that movie. Though the movie as a whole is good. I guess I just like British people better. No offense to all my non-British readers... oh wait, that's everyone. Oops. Maybe I should say I like British actors better. Yeah that works.

Chick Flick Nonsense.

So, the other day, more like a couple of weeks ago, I was with my friend, who will remain un-named. A guy came up that I like- let's call him Bob- and I made a fool of myself. You know those movies where the girl makes a complete idiot of herself because she's so nervous that she can't think straight? And then you think "that could never happen". Yeah, well, my display made it look like those girls are being refined.

Softball.

Every Thursday the youth have softball. I'm technically in limbo right now, seeing as I am 18 and can still go, but also go to the single's ward. It's really fun, but I seem to have some kind of unseen force-field around me because no matter what sport I play, whether it be softball, volleyball, or some other sport, the ball does not come to me. It's kind of nice for the following reason:

When the ball does, however few times, come to me, it doesn't turn out well. For instance, yesterday, I saw the ball, for once barrelling toward me. I reach down, scoop it up with my mitt, then somehow twist, making the ball hit my knee, me dropping it, and it rolling away. I then had to find my footing, and retrieve the ball again, giving the runners plenty of time to make it to the next base. Pathetic. Then there's like 3 boys on my team that are in the outfield catching the hits like a mile away, and a boy in the infield whose covering practically all the bases. I did not give girls a good name last night.

Diagram of ball's path.