School's out. Hallelujah! This year has gone by slower than watching a Meg Ryan movie in a hot theater with popcorn but no soda. Never have I been more ready for summer's arrival. I'd rather have my feet waxed than go through this year again. I'd say I would wax my back, but I am NEVER doing that again.
**A quick aside: If you read this blog and your kid is in my class (That means you Stacy), this has NOTHING to do with your kid - your kid is one that actually helped me live through what I now call "Death by the Naughties 08/09"... At least I think only parents of the nice kids read my blog...
I'm the proud owner of two season tickets to the University of Utah football games. Actually, I own a ticket and my buddy Brent owns a ticket. We will be sitting in the south end zone. I've never actually owned my very own season ticket, so I am a bit of a rookie. Nevertheless, I will miss that stranger that sat in front of me in the north end zone that I hugged one too many times. "Sir Utah Man Hugs-A-Lot", you shall be missed. Gees, I hope I make some new friends on the south side. Go Utes!
Back to summertime...
The other seasons have nothing on summer. Summer makes fall wish it hadn't been born. Summer takes it's kickbuttedness and beats on winter like Mike Tyson in a room full of still- attached ears. Nothing touches summertime. I want to reach out my arms and smother summertime in a wet, slobbery kiss.
Summer is where your greatest childhood memories take form. I love to watch Lincoln stay out until 10:30 playing "neighborhood games" while the framework of canines bark at their shenanigans. I love the neighborhood parties at our neighbor's pool and the subsequent 2 inch deep wounds I obtain from an insane game of water basketball. I love watching the Murray Park fireworks from the front lawn in some ugly pajama shorts and a backwards baseball cap.
Summertime kicks major culo. Summertime, will you become my first polygamist wife?