Once upon a time last weekend, I was with my roommate Ariell and our friends Joshua and Lance in the basement of the Poop House* watching a movie. And it was lateish, like 10:40, when I got a call from my twin cousin Amy, who informed me that she and Mark (her awesome husband. we are friends.) were reading my blog.
Now here's the really flattering part.
Amy told me that reading my blog made them miss me so much that she wanted to come get me from Logan and take me home for the long weekend. Right now. So I of course jumped on that, and Amy and Mark got in their little car at eleven at night and drove from Provo to Logan so that I would not be stranded without a car by myself for the next three days. Thus began an epic journey. Three drive thru's, a spicy McChicken sandwich, two offramp detours, one stop for milk, and two extremely frigid gas station bathroom trips later, we were back in Provo.
Now comes the fun part. Mark was driving, leaving Amy and I to our own devices, which is sometimes a dangerous thing when we are exhausted in the wee hours of the morning. Some odd conversation ensued. Thus:
3:02 Big Amy: "My hand is making farting noises!" (giggling)
3:03 Little Amy: "Whoa. It's gotta be early if Amy is trying to make farting noises with her hands. How are you doing that?"
3:04 Mark: " Uh. You are doing what?"
3:04 Big Amy: (incoherent mumbling/more giggling)
3:05 Little Amy: "I can't do it! Show me how!" (continued giggling)
3:06 Mark: "Wow."
3:07: Both Amys: (giggling plus a chorus of hand-farting)
3:08: Little Amy: "I wonder if this is what it feels like to be drunk."
After terrorizing Mark with such subjects and sharing some horror stories of really stupid college activities (involving minor trespassing on the part of both Amys), we arrived safely in Provo at approximately 4:00 a.m. And then I spent a whole weekend with my favorite cousin and our favorite Mark, staying up late talking, reading all my favorite blogs, eating Peanut Butter Crunch, teaching little sunbeam girls who all have a crush on Mark at church, and generally having a wonderful time.
And all that would never have happened if I hadn't blogged about my smushed little car.
That is the power of the written word.
*All the college houses have names, right? They live in the poop house. For reals, not for fakes.