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Sunday, May 22, 2011

Two Quick, Unrelated Stories

My first story is from last Sunday. For those of you who know me you know I hate wearing skirts with a passion. They are restrictive and not very practical as far as I'm concerned. Bunch of malarkey. Anyway despite my intense dislike of being "well dressed" I do wear a skirt on Sunday (with my pants underneath, even in this humidity I cant break that habit). So last week on the way home from church I found myself sitting in a rather unladylike position due to the amount of space on the chair and the fact that it looked like I was only wearing a skirt. I, however, was not that concerned because I knew I had pants on so nothing was showing. Normally I would have just stood but the trains are kind of miserable if you are a sweaty hot white person. (None of the Thai people sweat, but by the time we get to church we are always drenched.) So I'm sitting there being unladylike and all these male teenagers get on the train and sit on the floor. Every one of them tried to inconspicuously look up my skirt, the one closest to me tried repeatedly. I was ready to stand up and take my skirt off just to ease everyones curiosity but I didn't want to give any of the old ladies a heart attack. So I decided just to stand and tough it out; having people look up your skirt isn't comfortable no matter what else you are wearing. So I stand and my skirt starts blowing, then all the boys are watching to see if I will be able to keep it down. I kept it down and on (both of which were difficult tasks). The moral of this story is that skirts are senseless torture devices. I rest my case.

The second story is from this morning. I have been teasing Alisha because she says stuff to me when she is sleeping that she doesn't remember in the morning. Not ever very much just enough to make me laugh. However, this morning it was me. I think I was having a dream where I was giving someone a tour of the house and teaching a lesson. So I knew I was talking but I was very out of it. After a couple of minutes of this Alisha figures out, with much effort, how to tell me she doesn't know what I am talking about. (I had just announced that this was Tang's house). I immediately asked "Why am I talking?" Alisha said "I don't know, did your alarm go off?" But then we heard the guy who bangs on the metal at every hour hit the metal three times (three in the morning). Then we just laughed. Alisha stopped laughing very abruptly and said in a serious voice "Whitney I will laugh more about this tomorrow right now I need to sleep." and she rolled over and went to bed. Candace I apologize for always teasing you about your sleep talking, apparently it can happen to anyone.

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