Our friend Mo.

Yes, I did steal this from the President's blog. Anyway, I just had to say that it's the hair, not the muscles, that give away the secret identity of our good friend Ma--I mean, Mo.

We were on our way to BYU. President Ford had been dead for who knows how long.

Alright how's that for the first line of my poem? The problem is...I don't know what to say next.

I'm listening to "Everytime We Touch" by Cascada right now (which, by the way, they did NOT play at that stake dance. Lame). I'm not listening to the candlelight version, or whatever. The real one is "now playing" on my iPod. I'm even thinking of doing the stick dance. Wow tonight was so much fun!

Bagels!

Am I so lame that an after-school bagel with strawberry cream chesse just makes my day? What can I say? I love bagels. Really.