I Don't Think I'm Immature

My dad just said, "Whatcha doin', Bob?" He was talking to my sister, who was bobbing her head. However, I immediately looked up. He laughed at me.

And my mother is getting angry about the new car seat law again. The seat was only fifteen dollars, so she's not as mad about the government making a law that forces people to spend money, but she is upset that the car seat requires a seat belt that isn't installed in modern cars. That's not just money, that's time and inconvenience. She is not very happy with our state legislators right now. And her baby is crying again.

Also, we're watching Enchanted for the fifth time in the past four days. Once on Friday, thrice on Saturday, and once right now.

Anyway, to the actual topic of my blog. Thanks to Goober, I have rediscovered fortune tellers, sometimes called cootie catchers. These never seemed so fun in grade school, back when everyone was making them all the time. Now mine are awesome.

Choose a color: purple (written in pink ink), orange (purple ink), green (orange ink), or pink (green ink).

A fortune teller isn't very easy to replicate on a blog, so I'll skip ahead to the final numbers.

1: Quit falling in love with morons.
8: You're not crazy, you're just a little unwell.
2: I love you.
5: Tomorrow you will wake up, do a bunch of stuff, and then go back to sleep.
3: You will find happiness in strange places.
6: Someone has stolen your heart. You'd better hire an assassin to get it back.
4: Trust me, you don't want to know.
7: 47!!!

There were some that sadly didn't make the final list, including:
You will die knowing 32 men named Dave.
Beware the grinning sheep.
You will fall in love 15 times this week.
You will suddenly become allergic to pink.

Yesterday at Ward Prayer I hopped around forcing everyone to allow me to tell their fortune. Despite my overly cutsy attitude and the fact that I was using a bally fortune teller, I really don't think I was acting immature. At least, not very.