BABES

I just read about a girl who is changing her diet and going to the gym, in order that she might GAIN weight. Mm hmm. Gain. She figures she needs to take care of that embarrassingly high metabolism before it becomes a really big problem. So here's some free advice, darlin'. Don't you worry your skinny little jeans 'bout that. Time has a way of taking care of these things, without any help from the victim. I mean recipient.

It's called babes.

Babes that you carry in a stretched out flesh sack that turns your nose enlarged and bulbous and makes your hair fall out in clumps. Babes that suckle the marrow from your bones as well as the collagen from your lips. Babes that leave your metabolism groaning in the gutter alongside your swimsuit and eyelashes, grabbing Johnny's hand as he pulls her out of the corner, so they can Dirty Dance together on stage.

Man, that movie rocks. And yes, I can mash potato.

Course, not that I'd know, but rumor has it that you can achieve the very. same. results. with a steady diet of Dr. Pepper and licorice. In case you're afraid of commitment. But I'm not.

Anyway, back to movies. My male babes were recently given permission to watch Schindler's List. Surprising how nudity is so much less intriguing to a teenage boy when it has to do with concentration camps and gas chambers. They were disturbed, to put it mildly, and I'm glad. The perfect beginning to a carefree, lazy Summer.

Segue into Summer, and I've got some big plans, peeps. Parties to plan, camps to attend, gardens to sow and roses to cut. And can I just say that Heavenly Father was on a CREATIVE SKYSCRAPER when he invented the scent of Rose? Seriously. Somebody should bottle that. Oh, they have? Well, okay then.

Anyway, I'm off to splash on some Eu de Red Roses and figure out square foot gardening. If the Bumbles come swarming, I'll let you know by screaming loudly.