Tales from the Crypt...

All of the York Catholicers and many of the Yorkers are familiar with the tradition of the annual book burning. The evolution of the tradition began in what...8th grade? When none of us knew anything about fire or the proper way to conduct the flames. However, by the last true book burning (aka Senior Year) we were experts, conducting massive flames for hours on end. Much like raining down sulfer, a proper bon fire is a true test of endurance. It's almost as exhausting as soccer. (Wicked props for whoever gets this).

Somehow along the way, our tradition eventually began to include Laura and her friends (3-4 years younger than us). They sat back, idly watching us carefully burn our memories away. We thought they were absorbing the technique and style that is absolutely essential for a good fire...

Apparently they were actually snorting coke, cool aid 0r some other slightly toxic substance.

Everything they could have done wrong, they did. They started about an hour and half before sun down and burned EVERYTHING AT ONCE. I know it's hard to believe that it gets worse, but it does. THEN they ABANDONED THE FIRE TO EAT SOMETHING IN THE HOUSE WHILE THERE WAS STILL MATERIAL LEFT TO BURN.

Fucking amateurs.

All in all, a fun night, though my disappointment in the next generation of York Catholicers knows no end.

On to the next topic! As many of you are aware (ahem Kat), today is Father's Day and I took my daddy out to lunch (Panera, yummy). Upon coming home, I walked into the sitting room (yes, we actually have one of those, sad, eh?) and found my mom sleeping on the couch, very peacefully, I might add. As I glanced at her face, I noticed something awry. Covering her face, in perfect, identical proportion, geometry, size and colour, were small reddish brown dots. Not raised or irritated, they were obviously manufactured by some great feat of human engineering.

Yeah, so my mom drew little dots all over her face to form the measles or mumps or something by using an odd combination of lipstick and powder.

WHO DOES THINGS LIKE THIS? Recently, Jessie described me as "quirky." While that may be true...I think it's fairly obvious where I get it from.

My mom's rationale for doing this? SHE WANTED TO BE LEFT ALONE (that's verbatum from the source itself). Yes...had either my father or I actually fallen for this and believed she had some sort of life threatening disease, undoubtedly our first instinct would have been to leave her sleep on the couch. Because you know what? Doctors are all QUACKS.

I think I'll write a book. Title ideas anyone?