Archive for June, 2009

Goose Egg

I’m so proud of my family. This weekend we went to Round Rock to celebrate with my uncle. He just graduated from The University of Texas. He got his Master’s in 13 months. And had a full time job, and wife, and son. He’s been working so hard and is finally done! He threw a graduation party on Saturday night. And… he went all out.

A stocked tiki bar, a margarita machine, a keg, canoes, a pool, yard games, catered food, etc. It was a good time. But that’s pretty common. If you know my family, you know that the Rosenhagens throw good parties. And we have excellent vacations. Not because we go to extravagant places, but because we have a good time together. I have a certain friend (who will remain nameless) who has said, “I wish your parents had more boys so I could marry into your family.” That’s a good wish.

Just so we’re clear, it’s not just the Rosenhagens. My mom’s side of the family is great too. It’s full of talented people. Both sides had some crazy talented genes. Athletes, artists, accountants, people who know how to handle money, people who get into UT Law School (Hook ‘Em), and all around smart people. So really, I shouldn’t have to try so hard to find my talents, right?!

On Saturday night, my sister and I were hanging out on the barstools at the Tiki Bar. I looked over and saw my twin cousins playing washers. I looked at Lindsay and said, “Want to go challenge Matthew and Ryan to a game of washers?” And she replied, “Chelsea, I suck at washers.” I laughed a little and said, “Lindsay, they are 11. They suck too.” Famous last words.

It was a brutal game. I’d like to blame it on the board, but for some reason, the boys weren’t having as much trouble. We are pretty sure it was the longest washers game in the history of all washers games. I have never heard two 11 year olds talk so much trash. We ended the game with a score of something depressing like 21-8. The icing on the cake? I contributed a whopping 0 points to our 8 point total.

Talented family? Maybe I’m adopted.

I hope you’re enjoying the new layout. I made some changes to the top tabs (About and 100 Things). Keep checking back, I’ll be making more changes throughout the week.

June 15, 2009 at 9:48 am 8 comments

What Happens in KC… Gets Blogged

I’ve shared a few stories of my trip to Kansas City this week. The drinks in the face, the nosy valet driver, the fashion show, Jazzy Jeff, etc. If you can even believe it, there was more randomness. I think it would be best shared in bullet form:

  • As Kelly and I waited for our plane to arrive at Hobby, a man walked in front of us and started messing with his briefcase. We didn’t pay much attention to him until we heard a noise. A very loud noise. A very farty noise. We did everything in our power to maintain our composure. Now call us immature, but when a butt that is 4 feet from you lets one loose and continues to proceed as if nothing happened, it’s funny! Five minutes later, The Farter sat next to Kelly. We continued to avoid eye contact. He made that very difficult for us when he joined our conversation. We were discussing our moms and what wonderful grandmas they’ll be. One of his opening lines was, “The problem with grandmas is… they die!” Are you kidding me, dude? Then he told us about the death of every woman he ever knew. Thanks, creeper!
  • Kelly was in Boarding Group B, I was in C. It was a full flight. My biggest fear was that I was going to get stuck next to The Farter and have to listen to his weird stories all the way to KC. Kelly boarded first and had a very difficult decision. Find a seat toward the back that has at least one extra seat. Sit with someone who looks like they won’t be annoyed with us chatting the whole time. Find someone who won’t talk about their dying grandmothers. She got to the back and narrowed it down to two. She took a chance and sat with a 37 year old man named Scott. He gave her tips on how to save my seat. He was a frequent flier – he knew his stuff! As I was nearing the back, people in front of me started turning around and saying, “There are no seats left, go to the front.” I got to use the line, “Oh, well my seat is being held. Excuse me.” I was able to make it to the back and claim my seat. Scott quickly turned into our best friend when he presented us with an infinite amount of free drink vouchers. I’m on vacation, yes please!
  • We actually heard a woman on her cell phone say, “Well, I gotta go. I gotta use the john.” Which led us to wonder- if you are a woman, should it be called “the jane”??
  • Saturday we snuck into the Intercontinental Hotel’s pool. It was pretty crowded. As we were chatting, reading, and sipping on Malibu and Pineapple we saw these two men arrive. They were in their 40s, very very tan, and very very gay. They both were wearing a combination of yellow, red, white, and things with the word LIFEGUARD written on them. I was up at the bar getting a few beverages and I see one of these men walk up beside me. I turned my head and almost fainted when I saw that he was now wearing a red LIFEGUARD hat and a tight red speedo. I’m not sure how I didn’t laugh, or throw up. Speedo are never okay. Even if you’re gay.
  • We decided we’d get pedicures on Saturday afternoon. I called this placed called Polished to set up appointments. “Sure, what’s the name?” I told him my name and he repeated, “Chelty?” No. I repeated. “Kelsey?” Again, no. I repeated again and spelled it. Okay, I understand that Chelsea isn’t an extremely common name, but is Chelty??
  • On Friday evening we saw a group of older couples. All of the women were wearing formal dresses. The men were all wearing tuxes. However, instead of tux pants, they wore black shorts. All of them. In public.
  • Driving downtown on Saturday there were mobs of people around. We had no idea what was going on. I saw a sign that said something about “Pride Parking” and then saw a guy wearing shorts, rainbow suspenders, and no shirt. We had our answer. Lyndsey said, “But there are so many people. There must be something else going on. I mean, look over there, they don’t look gay.” We looked. “Lyndsey, they are holding hands.” Oh…
  • A cab company told Lyndsey that they wouldn’t pick us up because we couldn’t give them an address. Since when is an intersection not acceptable? Lyndsey was having none of their attitude and said a few words to management. That is why we now promote Atlas Cabs for all of your Kansas City cab needs. And of course because their business cards cannot be topped! (Check out the Hip Kids post if you missed that picture.)
  • At dinner on Friday night a car pulled over on the street next to our table. Maybe it was two cars. Either that or it was like clowns in a car – about 9 people in formal attire swarmed around the car. They were there for no less than 40 minutes pouring water out of vases that were in their trunk. Two questions: Who’s bright idea was it to put full vases in a trunk? And why does it take 40 minutes to fix the problem?

It’s hard to believe we were there less than 48 hours! It was a fantastic trip! Thanks girls!!

*Spell check doesn’t like the word “Speedo”… we don’t like it either, Spell Check. Trust me.

June 12, 2009 at 10:12 am 5 comments

A Surgery-Free Facelift

Don’t close your browser! You’ve come to the right place! This is still your #1 source of R&R. Still the same rambling blogger about the same off-the-wall husband and dog. It’s just a bit prettier! It has been a long-time coming and last night, the change was made. Roots and Rings went from an ugly default layout to a ridiculously cute, custom design.

Don’t you just love it?? Many many props to my wonderful designer. Maybe I’m biased but I definitely feel like this captures the mood of Roots and Rings. And it makes me happy. Does it make you happy? (If it doesn’t, don’t answer!)

Stay tuned. Once I get the hang of it, I will be making some changes. See those bottons at the top? There will probably be more. I may end up moving my recipes over here. Just be patient with me as I get things settled. And if you have any strong opinions, let me know. You are the reader, after all!

June 11, 2009 at 8:22 am 8 comments

What The “Hip” Kids Do…

I am what they call “an old soul.” I don’t know who “they” are and I don’t know why I am the old one. Why aren’t other 24 year olds just “young souls”?? I feel like I’m right on par. But I am guess I’m wrong because I have had plenty of people throughout my life tell me that I am too old for my age. I’ve had plenty of posts about being old… see here or here or here or here or here… (there are more, but I’ll stop) so I’m not going to prove to you why I’m an “old soul”… just trust me on this.


Because I’m too old for my age, I’m not very hip. I rely on Facebook statuses to keep me in the know. And pictures. I often see girls in outfits and think “I don’t know how to dress like that…” – of course I often see outfits that make me sick to my stomach and pray that I don’t have girls. (Just kidding God, I’d be okay with a girl… but just one… and can she please wait until college to be hot? Thanks…) But the truth is, I’m not very fashionable. If you take my entire wardrobe and throw it in a pile, you can sort it into the following categories: t-shirts, jeans, things from Old Navy or Target, things my mom or sister picked out, gym shorts, things that I’ve had for over 4 years. One word to describe it: Safe.


So when Lyndsey told me that we were going to a fashion show while we were in KC, I got excited. I can get ideas. I’m a great brainstormer. If someone else shows me how to do it, I can do it. So I bought a safe black dress at Ross and wore my red heels. (Big mistake. Huge! I’m still suffering the consequences of that decision… 5 blisters. Oh boy!) So we took a cab over to West 18th Street – turns out, the fashion show was outdoors. (First clue that these particular shoes were a bad decision.) Standing room only. I noticed all of the clothes people are wearing. Some were really cute. Some were… interesting. Remember yesterday when we were talking about my view from where I was? Okay well here was my view:


Look closely...

Look closely...


That’s a rooster. In a kennel. You can’t make this stuff up. I should have taken a picture of my view of the people in front of me. But some people might think that’s rude. So I’ll just tell you my favorite. A guy in short blue shorts that had a rainbow waistband, no shirt, something ridiculous on his feet (I can’t remember), and a Ninja Turtle backpack purse. And someone in his group hadn’t showered in approximately 6.73 days.


8:00 finally comes and goes and the shows starts. This is what we see first:




I am almost certain that I have never seen any Facebook pictures with these outfits… so I’m pretty sure that they aren’t the newest thing. But I bite my tongue just in case. Two more ladies is similar attire come out. They sing a song that had about 14 lyrics, repeated about 72 times. Since when is there singing at a fashion show? Not that I’ve been to a million or anything. I’m just saying. Then some woman comes out wearing something ridiculous that I know doesn’t qualify as “breathable clothing.” She welcomes everyone and the three of us release a big sigh of relief that we just witnessed an intro, not an actual part of the show. (We immediately regretted the sigh as we then had to breathe in a lungful of BO.) The dramatic woman in charge announces that the theme of the show is “Summer in Space!!!!!!!!” Crap. Here we go:




The one on the left is a guy. Wearing a skirt of some thick felt material. He had pearls glued to his face (I know this because he is friends with Ninja Turtle guy and joined our cheering section later in the show.) He had some sort of tubing expertly draped around his neck, and one part fashionably draped on his ear. The one on the right is a girl. In a potato sack. If you ever plan to visit space in the summer, bring your potato sack. Moving on:




She’s green and has a feather in her hair. And look, she even has an alien son. In the summer he likes to wear a t-shirt.




That’s a man, man! The one on the right. And the one on the left is the designer who thought that putting a man in a fairy outfit was a good representation of Summer in Space. Maybe it is, what do I know? I’m an old soul.




This is Lyndsey’s friend, Hannah. She was modeling for their friend, Abby. This was my favorite part. Her outfits were cute. Obviously not something you’d wear… unless of course you were taking your summer vacay to Mars. But cute.


At that point we chose to leave. We walked a few block to the Power & Light District. (Google it if you want this story to make sense.)  We considered a cab, but what’s a few blocks??? I cried half of the way there. Not really. We get there and plopped our butts onto some barstools at a bar. We put our name on a waiting list for a seat on the patio and orders some beverages. I got a cold beer. My reasons were threefold. 1) It’s cheap. And I’m cheap. 2) I was so freaking hot that I needed something refreshing. 3) I needed to numb the pain of my blisters.


My drink of choice isn’t important. I just wanted you to get the full effect. So then we’re sitting there at the bar and this bartender comes up and enthusiatically asks, “So are you’s guys (or something discustingly Kansas-y like that) here to see DJ Jazzy Jeff??”


Like I said, I’m not hip. But when I was in elementary school, Will Smith and Jazzy Jeff were the epitome of cool. So I felt pretty safe to say that I was excited about that. We got our table on the patio and, oh my Heavenly stars, was it packed!!! Apparently we were the only people in KC that didn’t know he was going to be there. We listened to some other guy for a while and then he came out. Look, I have proof:




I really have no idea what makes a good DJ, but when he came out I thought he was good. We sat there with our drinks and texted because it was too loud to do anything else. Twenty minutes went by and the Jazz man had enough. He left. LEFT. After 20 minutes. The crowd booed, we went to another bar to meet up with Lyndsey’s friends, we had to pee, the line was too long, we called this guy and left.




If you don’t want to hire him for his awesome, no-nonsense cab driving skills, hire him for his sweet business cards!


So I guess my point is this: If being hip means drag fairies, impractical shoes, and waiting around all night with music so loud it makes your ears bleed just to see someone play for 20 minutes… well, then I’ll stick with my old lady life style.


More Ovaltine please!

June 10, 2009 at 11:55 am 12 comments

In The Movies

Sometimes I feel like I repeat myself a lot. Like a broken record. But then I remind myself that I don’t say the same things over and over… I only say them two or three times. And who doesn’t like to listen to their favorite song two or three times? Yes, I just compared myself to your favorite song. Unless your favorite song is “Poker Face”… Two or three rounds of that song will render you certifiably insane.


So at the risk of being redundant let me say this: I don’t like many movies. I really don’t. I don’t have a very good imagination. This is why I was never good at playing Barbies. Barbies can’t talk. And they can’t drive pink Jeeps. And they definitely can’t kiss. Their mouths don’t move. So why pretend that they can? But really, I don’t like many movies. If you put me in the middle of a conversation about Star Wars or X-Men, I will probably laugh and then promptly fall asleep. I can’t be entertained with things that could never happen. This is why I only watch chick flicks.


Not everything, but the majority of events that occur in chick flicks could actually happen. Maybe the jock doesn’t always turn the nerdy art student into the hottest girl in school. But I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that the jock had a crush on her. He’s a high school boy… they have crushes on everyone. And I don’t think a woman would fly to New York to find a man from Seattle. But it is possible that a woman can have an obsession with a sweet man she heard on the radio. See, there are tidbits of truth in these movies. All that other stuff is just entertainment that pulls the story together and we brush it off and say “only in the movies.”


Over the weekend, my two girlfriends and I witness something that, honest to God, I thought only happened in the movies. I’m not sure if this is a very bloggable story, so bear with me.


Friday evening we headed to the Plaza in Kansas City. We had one goal: Find a restaurant that has a good patio and excellent cocktails. We found Brio. This nice Italian place that played country music in Italian. True story. We got the best table on the patio, conveniently located by a great people-watching corner and eavesdropping valet guy. We had a clear view of all of the other tables around. Lyndsey and Kelly had the view of the other tables and the street. I have a ring, so this was my view:


Please take note of Lyndsey's drink. That's a Flirtini. Hold on to that info, you'll need it later.

Please take note of Lyndsey's drink. That's a Flirtini. Hold on to that info, you'll need it later.


And while I may have had a prime spot, Kelly had the best one. We sat dinner, nursing cocktail after cocktail and chatting it up. At one point, we asked the valet kid if he was bored. “No, not really,” he told us. So I asked, “You’re just standing there. What do you do?? A lot of quality people-watching, huh?” He nods a bit and says, “Well sort of. But there’s also a lot of good eavesdropping.” He then proceeded to tell us all that he knew about us. That should have been our first (or second or third) clue that this trip would be totally random and entertaining. We continued our discussion about something ridiculously important like our favorite colors of Opi nail polish. All of a sudden, Kelly’s jaw dropped to the floor and she desperately tried to hold in a burst of laughter. She raised her drink up to her lips to cover her mouth and softly said, “That chick just threw two drinks in her date’s face.”


Maybe Lyndsey and I should have handled ourselves better, but really, how could we? We turned immediately, only to see the after effects. A silent woman walking away, and a man drenched in Flirtini, wiping his face off with his napkin. He casually took off his glasses and cleaned them. His waiter awkwardly approached him… having missed the whole thing, I’m sure he was curious as to why the party of two turned into a party of one…. and why that one left was soaking wet.


Everyone on the patio was struggling to hold in their laughter. Nobody made eye contact. After a few minutes, the table next to us accidentally made eye contact with the man. Now there are a few ways this could go. He could be pissed. He could ignore them. He could tell us how awful she is. Instead he says, “Well that’s never happened before!” At that point, we all lost it. We started cracking up. Lyndsey yelled over to him, “So tell us what you did!!!” He says, “Well, if you can believe it, we were talking about politics.” (For the record, we don’t believe it.) She replied, “Oh, we thought you were cheating.” He looked up with a smirk and said, “Well I will now!”


Like I said, I’m not sure if this transferred well. Trust me, it was hilarious. I’ve never known someone who has thrown a drink in someone’s face, let alone an $8 Flirtini! Once the man left, we all discussed how bizarre it was. The lady that was sitting directly behind the Drink Thrower told us the best part. Right before she threw the water and Flirtini in his face, she sternly asked him, “Do you want to wear this?”


Seriously, she must’ve gotten that line straight from a movie script. I guess I can scratch that off my Bucket List:


-Have babies
See someone throw a drink in someone’s face
-Go to Spain

June 9, 2009 at 9:38 am 6 comments

A Case of the Mondays

I’m feeling quite overwhelmed today.


Maybe it’s because I’m exhausted from my weekend. Maybe it’s because I’m feeling stressed. Or because Rice lost this weekend and baseball, yet again, broke my heart. Maybe it’s my allergies. Or hormones. Maybe it’s the reoccurring shock I feel throughout every hour of every day since Makenzie Stocker’s death. I don’t know. All I know is that I’m struggling to keep my eyes open and my tears in.


So even though I have countless stories from my weekend, I’m not going to share them today. Today I’m taking a break. A breather. And saying a little prayer instead.

June 8, 2009 at 9:15 am 4 comments

Marital Bliss

No long story today… Just a quick explanation of why marriage is unlike anything you will ever experience.

This morning on the way to work, Stephen cleared his throat. It was one of those nasty, man throat things… where he may or may not have hacked up a hairball. In this instance, it was the former. And it was not a hairball. It was a loogie. The kind that only males know how to produce. (I think they learn this in 4th grade when the girls are in the nurse’s office learning about periods.)

C- I don’t know why you do that when you’re driving. We are on the freeway. Now you have to hold it in your mouth. Gross.

S- (almost incomprehensibly) I don’t get to choose when it happens…

Of course I think this is gross. But I’m also secretly jealous. Why don’t I know how to do that? Last week my head was so full of mucus I thought my eyes were going to pop out. I would have given my right arm to be able to get some of that out. But noooo. I’m a lady. Ladies don’t get loogies. Ugh. So anyways, we finally exit the freeway and get to a stop sign.

Stephen opens the door, spits his treasured loogie, and turns to me, apologetically, with a smile:

S- You’re pretty.

June 5, 2009 at 9:10 am 7 comments

Babies Make Everything Better

A common misconception is that people who own houses have money. Why does this make sense? Please tell me.


Right after Stephen and I bought our house, a few people casually said things like “Oh, well you have money, you just bought a house.” Sorry, wrong answer. Do you know how much it costs to buy a house? The check I wrote for our down payment was more money than I had ever seen in my life. Put together. (Not really put together… but I’m trying to make a point here.) After we signed our names a bagillion times, I had never had less money in my life. Well, maybe back in 3rd grade when I spent my full allowance on Laffy Taffy and nail polish from Eckerd…


You may also be misled if you saw us driving our new (to us) car. It’s pretty awesome. If you saw us drive by in our pretty Merlot colored Murano, you may think that we are one of those well-to-do young couples that has all their ducks in a row and can afford things like trips to Europe and DVR. You’d be wrong. We are what they call “house poor” and “car poor”… oh and “student loan poor.” Pretty much all of our income is accounted for. (So if you happened to see me shopping at Ross last night, it’s not because I enjoy their dirty dressing rooms and angry customers with shopping carts the exact width of the aisles… it’s because according to my new blog friend, Lauren, they are cheap and worth the effort. For the record, she’s right. It was a close call though- When the dressing room attendant yelled at me because she didn’t count how many items I had, I had to have tough skin! … This is the longest usage of parentheses of my life.)


Our other car isn’t so fancy. Praise God we are able to carpool to work! I don’t want to say too many bad things about “the green car” because I really do appreciate the fact that it continues to start. I don’t want to anger it. The main problem is this: the AC doesn’t work. We live in Houston, Texas. No AC in a car is the equivalent of being slowly burned alive. This isn’t usually a problem for me though. I very rarely drive this car.


Last Saturday was the furthest I’ve ever driven it. I was going to San Antonio with my mother-in-law, sister-in-law and aunt-in-law. I needed to drive into Houston to meet at my in-laws house and then we’d all ride together. I didn’t want to leave Stephen with the green car while I was gone, so I took that one. I had the windows down and was doing just fine. Until I got stuck behind a wreck. It was terrible. At 10:00 on a May morning in Houston, I was stuck on the freeway with no breeze and the scorching sun pounding on me. You may or may not know this about me, but I don’t sweat. I’m sure there is something wrong with me and maybe I should get that checked out, but that’s not the point. The point is that I was sweating. Not much. Not visibly. But I was.


I finally arrived. I refused to hug anyone. I didn’t really want my husband’s family’s “death by stench” hanging over my head the rest of my life. So I downed a bottle of water and my MIL got me a Frappucino. It was grand!


But you want to know why that drive was really worth it? Because I got to meet this sweet baby girl.


Ladies and Gentlemen, meet Riley Grace!

Ladies and Gentlemen, meet Riley Grace!

June 4, 2009 at 9:31 am 5 comments

Props! to Emily Hansen Photography

It’s that time again. Time for me to shamelessly plug a person or product that I love. This is all about Emily Hansen Photography. I met Emily last November through a mutual friend. She and her husband are extremely talented. I am not just saying this. I’m talking about the type of talent that makes you want them to breed, just so we can all see what happens! Matt is an incredible pianist. He is currently teach my hubby how to play. Anyways, about Emily. She took Stephen and I to Kemah about a month or so ago. She wanted to “practice”… I don’t really think she needs to practice but, hey, we’ll take all the free photos we can get!


Below are some of my favorite pictures. I’m sure many of you have seen these on facebook but I wanted to go ahead and post them for my blog friends! And, yes, it very much felt like we were taking engagement pictures. But we weren’t. I’m about ten pounds heavier than I was back then. Trust me on that. Enjoy!


















Hope you like them! My favorites are the one with my hair in the wind and the black and white one! If you are in Houston and you’re looking for a photographer, check her out!

June 3, 2009 at 11:18 am 6 comments

I Dare You

I’m addicted to my planner. I never go anywhere without it. I never do anything that isn’t written in it. I can tell you what I have planned each day from now until December 31, 2009. I don’t understand people who don’t have planners. How do you keep your life straight? How do you remember that you have an eye doctor appointment on July 13? Are you non-planner people just that much smarter than us planner people? (This is not a rhetorical question. I really am curious.)


Stephen is awful at planners. I bought him one and wrote in it. I told him I’d update it as often as he wanted me to. Stephen, I’ll take you out for ice cream if you can tell me where that planner is right now. I don’t know if it’s a man thing, or a Stephen thing. He’s just not good with plans. We met up for lunch yesterday at Taco C and discussed the pros and cons of going to Port Aransas for a weekend in July with my family. I pulled out my planner so we could see how busy we are and if it’ll be a “much needed vacay” or “just another thing to add to the calendar.” Stephen looked down and said, “Wait, you’re going to Kansas City this weekend?!” Sigh….


We had a deadline of May 30 to get Stephen switched over to Verizon. Previously he had been on his parents’ plan. He decided that if we could just find a phone with a user-friendly calendar, his problems would be solved. That’s a great thought. There’s really no way for a guy to carry around a planner and still keep his Man Card. But a phone… that’s manly. And he already carries that around, so it won’t be anything new. Ding ding, we have a winner. But wait, that still leaves an issue. How will the events get on to that calendar? Am I going to have to steal his phone and update it? That wasn’t a very appealing thought but, hey, I’ll take one for the team. We started looking at phones and doing some research. I talked to my people who talked to their people and word on the street was that the LG Dare has an excellent calendar and, even more amazingly, you can sync up two calendars. What?! If I have a Dare and Stephen has a Dare, I can add an event to my calendar and with some sort of Bluetooth technology that I don’t understand, it’ll somehow find it’s way onto his phone. A-mazing.


We took the plunge. We bought two fancy phones. I’ve never had a fancy phone before. I’ve always had the freebie phone that comes with the upgrade. And that was just fine with me. Until now. I don’t think I can go back. I didn’t know what I was missing. Kind of like people who don’t like Texas. Clearly they’ve never been. They don’t know what they are missing. Or like people who don’t like chocolate. Or naps. We all know that they are just eating crappy chocolate or trying to nap on an uncomfortable couch. They just aren’t doing it right. But I think Stephen and I finally got it right. We got great phones. And my people’s people were right, we can sync up our calendars.


Turns out, that’s not the only thing the Dare is good for. Friday night we were at Reckling Park. (What’s new?!) Stephen decided it would be a good time to read my blog. He pulls out his handy dandy notebook phone and with a few touches, he’s there. Out of the corner of my eye I see him scrolling down the page really quickly. This is unacceptable. He is my husband… which means he’s forced to read every word of every post on my blog. Til death do us part.


Chelsea: Why are you scrolling so quickly??? Why aren’t you reading it?

Stephen: (Nonchalantly…) Oh, I’m looking for my name.

Chelsea: What? You can’t just read your name! You’ll miss the point.

Stephen: I’m looking for my name. I’ll read what you say about me and then I’ll go read all that other stuff around it.


Wow, Dare. I didn’t see that coming. A calendar and an ego boost, all in one little contraption?!  At least he’ll know the plans for he and his big head*…


*Although Stephen actually has a physically large head, this is meant purely in the I’m-so-awesome-that-I-only-read-about-myself way.

June 2, 2009 at 10:29 am 5 comments

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