Yesterday I was standing in line for a full eternity to get a burrito because burritos. After about 28 minutes, I noticed that the person in line in front of me was none other than Mr. Perfect. I think. I don't usually see any of The Perfects that close and I have facial blindness (self-diagnosed but very real) so I didn't dare to say hi to him. Plus it had been like 28 minutes so it just felt weird to suddenly say hi anyway. Which brings me to my next point: I am 95% sure that I am calling The Perfects by their correct first names when I see them. Which means that there is a 5% chance I have been calling them by the wrong names to their faces for 18 straight months. And it is far too late at this point to verify. And if I find out I've been wrong this whole time, I'm going to have to move. To China.

I wonder if they have burritos there.

And now, your Pictures & Distractions:

Jolyn and I have a very strict dress code in Strangerville. 

Moments before the band walked out and played all 12,000 of those instruments at the Paul Simon concert. 

My planter box is really werkin' it this year. 

Roses from my yard.

Jolyn and I stayed out way past our bedtimes celebrating my birthday. 

Quinn kept Mr. Pants company at Broome Bungalow while Matt and I tried to hang his front door. 

Crap to distract you from whatever you're supposed to be doing:

My hilarious friend Brian (with whom I worked in Palau) is now recapping a horrible new show for TV & Jelly and his first recap is amazing.

If you haven't visited people's middle school nightmares in the comments yet, you should do so now.

Please read this Onion article in its entirety. Thanks, Matthew.

Obituaries for teenage girls if they actually died when they say they're dying. Thanks, Matthew.

Me in hot yoga. Thanks, Kaylee.

Chicken shaming. Thanks, many of you.

The best and worst Amazon reviews. Thanks, Krishelle.

You can finally lick your cat. Thanks, Krishelle.

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~It Just Gets Stranger