Outkast is so dope. I want to make an Outkast sandwich and just...Get. In. There.

I have to listen to CD's through my computer now that my stereo was trashed at the pah-tay this weekend. It was worth it.

So I hear there were 5 State Troopers in my bedroom. That scares me. A lot. I. Think. You. Know. And how in God's name did the State Troopers get here? And what state were they from?

However bad it sounds, though, it can't be as bad as the year the Special Narcotics Division came to the party. Or the time one of my roommates invited a DEA agent because they thought he was fun.

Not that I have anything to worry about, considering their bad behavior at the pah-tay.

Toastgirl has told me that I led an impromptu jam in my bedroom. I was on maroccas and harmonica, my brother was on kanga and TG was on bongos. I passed off the harmonica to a friend who can play much better than me.

I'm a sharer. What can I tell you?

I think I may have also invited someone over for a day of group painting and other things. That came to me in a flashback.

But the question in my mind is, who's the trickdaddy who stole my keys to my apartment? Shizzle my nizzle.

*~*

My Dad e-mailed me today, asking for help with a cover letter he's sending to his clients to tell them about my brother's new business.

He needed a funny anecedote about him and my brother to personalize the letter and he couldn't think of anything.

I read that and it made me well up, because my parents are such amazing parents, I couldn't believe that he couldn't think of anything.

I must have thought of 2,002 and wonderful things they did with us in a 3-second time span.

Lemonande stands...art classes...tennis lessons...cheering us on a sporting events...school projects...wild parties...

sand castles on the beach...new sleds every Christmas...fondue birthday parties...drunken 21st birthday parties...my brother's surprise 30th...trips to visit colleges...

support through college...graduations...family trips in the U.S. and abroad...the 1984 Olympics...driving cross country...teaching us to drive

...taking us for licenses...giving us our first cars...our first steps...our first words...learning to ride bikes...

All these amazing things our parents did for us and my Dad couldn't think of one story.

I'm sorry Mr. Partygirl, I am for reeeeal.

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