Sunday Nite Laughs (Because All of Our Show's Episodes Got Deleted)

Now this is my kind of stereotyping. 

from.

from.

One time when I was 16, my picture was in the Arizona Republic for being such a Beatles fan. I had bangs that I cut myself so that was cool. I need to get my act together and laminate that. You know, to preserve my 15 milliseconds of fame for the posterity. I also have my devotion immortalized in Sandra Day O'Connor High School's 2007 yearbook pages. Yeah, it took two pages to get the message across. I remember visiting with a friend after I graduated who told me that he and his girlfriend called me the boob girl because whenever she (who I had never even spoke two words to) wore her Beatles shirt, I would...apparently...stare at it and ultimately her boobs. Oops! I keep thinking I need to update my collection of shirts. I have 15 stuffed in a drawer, all too small now, naturally. The Beatles were my hobby growing up. I collected them, listened to them, loved them, learned about them, dreamed about them, and let everybody (well, at Church and SDOHS) know darn well who they were and that I would always be the number one fan. They were my passion and inspired me to do so many things. I have met a lot of people who do not receive their inspiration from music (but rather through other means, which is perfectly acceptable). They hum along until they turn the car or iPod off. I believe that I have turned down the music in my life a little too much because of the many, many things I have become caught up in, especially at a younger age. Fortunately, one benefit of having a painfully sharp memory is that I can remember it all. My feelings, my hideous clothes that attempted to look 1960s, my guitar and piano that seemed to only be able to churn out Beatles' tunes, my "shrine" that was a solid wall of nothing but memorabilia and magazine clippings. While it's important to grow up, to balance your life with what is relevant and important, it is just as important to remember what has contributed to your happiness, and what was so fun to parade around singing about. It is never too late to reinvent a passion. Oh, and in the middle of typing this, I found my paper. It is severely creased. Ignore my bangs and the fact that I actually said "drag." 

And. Elliott and I have found ourselves singing this song quite often around the house. 

Veggies that sing and are ridiculously cute. I like.