The post in which parentheses are used entirely too much. (rated PG-13, for all those little ones out there)

Shawt. (said like shoot, but mixed with shot, but you have to hear me say it. ITS HILARIOUS)
My husband is a GOOOOOOD kisser.

Story:
We ate too late tonight, which upset my stomach, as always. To avoid throwing up, I am staying up a tad later than normal to maybe make it settle a bit. So, David and I finish watching TV, and he is headed off to bed. He leans over the couch (on which I am laying, holding my poor tummy, curled up in a ball reading a blog) and lays one on me. Hooo BOY! I couldn't think for 5 minutes. In fact, I tried to type in the address for my email about 8 times before I got it right. I didn't even want to rip his clothes off or anything, it just made me weak at the knees (and I was laying down for gosh sakes) and ugh. Its not even fair that he has this power over me. And that was when he was just using his lips! Manohmanohman.

Another story:
Freshman year in college (whist David is on his mission and I have no intention of ever dating him again, let alone marrying him!), the story of Sabrina kissing lots of boys gets around. One night, someone asked me what my best kiss ever was. I didn't even have to think about when or who it was, because it was a very very very obvious choice (even considering the plethora of men that had met my lips). Let me relate it to you now: So, when we dated in HS, David broke up with me the week before Valentines Day (because he is a big fat jerk) but we already had plans and made eachother presents and etc, so we decide to go along with our plans for the night. We had gone to his school Sweetheart dance like 2 nights before, and it was a disaster (to put it lightly. very lightly. thats like freaking cool whip, thats how light that is putting it) and I was actually 100% dreading this date we were going to put ourselves thru. So, we go out to dinner (at a restaurant that is now closed) and then out for Gellato (also closed, geez we are cursed) and then we go to our park (which is actually at the Irving Arts Center) and lay down for a while in the grass. Its pretty awkward (see, I still liked him and was highly upset he had broken up with me and still wanted to be together, while he was in love with another girl.... yeah) but somehow we ended up making out. It was pretty good, don't get me wrong (I did teach him how to kiss, afterall) but it wasn't the best kiss ever. The best kiss was when we got up to leave. We walked to the car, and about halfway there, he turned around (he was walking in front of me) and kissed me. And I literally could not hold myself up. I just about dropped to the ground. If he hadn't been holding me, I would have. My knees could not support me. I was as much like a rag doll as a conscious human can be. It was ridiculous.

Then he took me home, where I wrote his essays for BYU.

Yeah, we are reaaallll romantic.

The (end).