My sister doth not love me...

Well does it really matter? I only think of her every time I lay me down onto my queen sized bed to slumber. We used to share a queen when we chucked the bunkbed on our way to Missouri. Long story short, the second half of my Senior year was spent kicking Katie of my side of the bed and plugging her nose so she wouldn't snore. Those damn adnoids....

Another sister is my faithful blog reader, Loise. Pronounced Loyz. It was very unfair to leave her hanging with my declaration that I'd be moving to LA. You'd better not tell you-know-who that I even have a blog because then I'd have to destroy the evidence and this is not a blog about HIM! I don't think I can do it. Every time I think about going through with it I just feel...blah. Like, I just have no desire to do it whatsoever to go anywhere near Cali. I don't really want to stay here, but when I think about going to Montana, there's a warmth in my innards that makes me feel good. I just don't know what I should do...

My good old friend at the PPC who's sister I knew my freshman year and who's sister new my brother in law school said this about marriage when i asked if I could indeed marry for money and a well-dressed man, "Marriage shouldn't be about love; it should be about commitment and building something." We were talking about all the well-dressed Japanese men who had infiltrated the store which reminded me of the 3-piece suit that Jerkface (blogged about 'im and now I've given him a name for all ya'lls) wore the last time we saw each other. It was a nice suit even though I practically begged him not to wear one...too official for the occasion, boo. Anyways, very soon afterwards I had an ROR (raugh out Roud) moment. A very well dressed and pretty Japanese woman asked me where the 'lestloom' was...

And then walked in a beautiful Venezuelan boy.

Okay, he had an entourage of his entire extended family, I guess that's how they do things in Venezuela. What am I talking about? He was the entourage to his bedangled gold-ring-plus-bracelet-wearing father, mother and grandparents. He had a little brother too. And maybe a great aunt. Not only is the father a person you might see depicted on some kind of mafia-type series set in Latin America, but he also has a lisp which makes this 240 pound man a leedle effeminate. It was cool and for helping them before John stepped in, daddy Venezuelan promised that the next time he came here into the store he would bring me back something from Venezuela. He had a kind smile so I accepted his offer.