My sister Lauren is tiny, even shorter than Mom, and thin thin thin. Still, I'd vote her the family member I'd least like to meet in a dark alley-that is if she weren't my favorite sister, and, as you can tell from the pictures, a one woman force for Good. Unless you are the Legendary Pink Dots or Eric Clapton, I don't know what she has against them.
I know a lot of people who are studying the Martial Arts these days, and for some reason, a goodly percentage of them seem to think I should, too. While the thought of pummeling my fellow creatures has its appeal, I've seen what goes on in those classes: forms. Forms are sort of like choreography, but without music and all of the cues are in a foreign language, a tonal one at that. The idea of joining that milieu takes me back to the C+ in Folk Dancing at BYU (what was I thinking) that took me forever to recover from GPA-wise, and to the horrible scarring gauntlet known as "Teen Elect." Besides, I swore off white pants at twenty and have never looked back.
So I will maintain my status as the weenie in my familial and social and work and (occasionally) school circles, and try to curry favor with this burgeoning samurai elite. At least until their protection money demands outstrip my budget. I should be safe for weeks.
Lauren vs. Eric Clapton
Lauren vs. Evil Homer
Lauren vs. Godzilla
Lauren vs. Imperial Walkers
Lauren vs. Legendary Pink Dots
This is an exhibition not a competition, so please-- no betting.
