Saturday, Sept 14, 9:00 pm

So guess what I forgot-- tonight is a stake dance.

I was going to opt out, using our family's date with the Stevensens as an excuse, but then dad remembered he signed up to chaperone, so mom had to call the Stevensens off. Which I must admit is sort of a relief-- I wasn't too keen on the prospect of spending another hour talking about Tolstoy and pretending I know what I'm talking about with Mark.

So I was going to stay home, but then Marsie called me and begged and begged so here I am. Yup, I'm blogging at a stake dance-- how pathetic is that? I ought to be out there participating in conga lines and forming my body into improbable letters and dancing in repetitive circles to Disney music.

But instead, I conned my dad into letting me borrow his laptop for a bit.

See-- I can't walk.

Much less flail myself about in time to eighties music.


ooh-- Bonnie Tyler. I must admit I'm tempted.

For once, I'm glad I'm the owner of Ugly Pants. That way nobody will ask me to---

hooooly cow. OK. Don't panic,

Ugly pants boy is heading in my direction. And there's nobody else sitting on the loser wall, so it must be me he's headed for. Signing off.