The Messes of Life

Judges. I've been watching the Olympics and wonder who these people are. What gave these people the right to tell the best athletes in the world how badly they did that double-bacon backflip supreme?
You gave him a five, Judge Jacob? Show me a perfect double-bacon backflip supreme.

When it comes down to things, you just can't judge the best of the best. But if that were true, how would you decide who was the best? Ah, tragic.


I pulled an all-nighter with my youth group last night. It was much more fun than it sounds.
However, it knocked my sense of sleep out of whack.
You know whats whack?
My sense of sleep.
That's whack.

Anyways, its always a mess when I do things with my kids here in the CO.
Everyone gets pissed off, goes through every break up imaginable, and swap salivamates. Kind of like square dancing.

In this case, in all of these cases, I'm always caught up in the messes. In the messes of life. I learn to appreciate the less-shallow lifestyles in California, where rebound limits last longer than just two hours.


Anyways.