Survived the Prom (NOT going, that is)

My brother got home at 2:00 a.m. as planned. He's being very vague in reporting last night's events. Regarding the pregnancy supposedly planned by his date, he said, "We'll all know in about nine months, won't we?" Unless you can get pregnant from sharing a fork, Bimbo is not pregnant by my brother, according to my friend Megan, who babysat him in my absence. Megan's my best friend, but she's also bossy and very nosy; not much happens without her knowledge. It seems a fairly safe bet that I will not be an aunt at anytime soon, at least not with a child that is also Bimbo's.

One unfortunate aspect to my not attending the prom last night was that I was at home when my Uncle Mahonri unexpectedly dropped by for a visit. He lives in Utah, but was in California for official LDS Church business. I was lying on the family room sofa trying to use my laptop to type into my Twitter account, but not having much success because of serious Vicodin dosage, when Mahonri just appeared. My dad says that I lack an age-appropriate filter for my speech when I haven't taken as much as Pepto-Bismol. Give me Vicodin and absolutely nothing is sensored by my brain before it comes out of my mouth. The name Mahonri allegedly comes from the Book of Mormon, but to me it always sounded like his parents were forced to draw seven Scrabble letters and use them in any order to make up a name for their child. This may have been one of the many Vicodin-enhanced thoughts I shared to offend the dear, sweet Mahonri, who is married to my dad's sister. At some point my Uncle Steve, my dad's younger brother who lives and practices medicine in our town, carried me upstairs and put me in my bed. Uncle Steve doesn't like Mahonri any more than I do, and he thinks the name is stupid as well, but he has better social graces than I do, particularly when I've been given Vicodin.

Another time I'll share information that justifies my feelings toward my Uncle Mahonri, but I'm getting sleepy, so it will have to wait. In the meantime, trust me: my feelings are warranted, and I'm not the only one who has them. Just be glad he's not your Uncle Mahonri. And if he is, the kindest thing would be not to tell him about this blog, but if you must, it probably wouldn't come as that much of a surprise to him.

Sayonara!