Heck hath no fury like Junior scorned (women are always angry anyway; see?)

Anyway, we played some mo' basketball on Wednesday, and we played five first-to-eleven-points-with-a-lead-of-two games, and it was me and Bros. T, Betenhausen, and Krevath against dad, Nick or Alex, since they switched out a lot, along with Brother Bass and some seventeen nonmember called Clayton.
Needless to say (what am I talking about?), my team won, mostly because, well, we had the two best players on our team (Bro. T and Krevath) and the players with the most hustle (meaning me and Bro. Bethenhausen). So, out of four of five games, I was given the task of guarding Nick; which only turned bad when he had to guard me. The last game, however, Brother T reassigned me to my dad, and here's the discussion, as best as I can recall:

Bro. T: Okay, Jeremy, you've got your dad.

Me: *weak chuckle* What?

So you know, I went over to guard my dad, him smiling the entire time; but like the Emperor, his overconfidence was his undoing. I blocked his shots more than once (though most of my blocks didn't fully work), once we got into the game, and though he completely shut me down on a shot I made, I think I gained some respect I had lost due to my performance. Nick, on the other hand, has his story of that night to tell... And now, I say, adieu.

LDS Basketball (you'd think we'd be more sensible...)

Here's the story; last Saturday, March 21, our stake held a basketball tournament at the stake center. Now, 3rd ward (OUR ward) thought that it was only the adult men who were playing, so the only people who came from our ward were Brothers Davis, Betenhausen, Tennyson, Krevath, and T, along with my dad and two younger guys who Brother T brought. Now, I went too, but only to watch; none of us had known that the youth were playing also. So, I was put on some miscellaneous (don't think I spelled that right) ward's team, and frankly; I sucked. Bad. Terrible. My father hid his face in shame the first five minutes of my first game when I crashed into one of my teammates, and when we had half-time, my father finally, finally; taught me how to play basketball. And after that, I beasted like crazy. I played center, but I also had to get to the other side of the court for the rebounds; had there been awards, I would have been given Best Hustle. According to my father, I played seventeen minutes straight in the second half (for we played in twenty minute halves) of the first game I played, and even more than that in our second game, since I played more in both. Somehow, I just kept going; nonetheless, I was always tired. I was rarely switched out of the game because the only other player on our team, a shortish guy called Matt, had an incessant need to double dribble, so yeah; even when I was switched out, I was usually back in two minutes later. But my dad's games were way better. Mostly because they could play waaay better, but mostly because of the yelling at the refs to my dad shouting, "Number 4 can't dribble! Get the ball!" and when the guy designated as Number 4 dribbled the ball out of bounds because Brother Betenhausen stood two feet in front of him, and that's all he did. Now, that was funny. But yeah, I'm still sore, and I hope it won't last for that long, cause we're playing basketball on Wednesday, and I really want to try out my new skizzles. Now, I usually wouldn't, well, "dote" upon myself and boast my own abilities, but nobody else will, and it was really cool. A'ight; peace out, me homes!

I actually have something of interest *sniff* Sorry, it just... doesn't happen very often. Sorry if I get all choked up - oh gosh! *sob*

Two days ago, on Sunday, my Sunday school class of 14 and 15 year olds had no teacher whatsoever; and we preferred to keep it that way. Using my deep voice, I talked as such for a while to ensure that any late passerby wouldn't suspect our current situation. However, Annalee Farley kept playing the piano that happens to be in our Sunday School room (mostly because it's two thirds of the Young Women's room, which is divided by those accordion thingies, (by the way; who designed those?) and she played a variety of songs, some church, some classical, some I've never heard of. After a while I decided to ask Annalee (who refuses to go by Anna; have no inkling whatsoever why) whether or not she could play "Love Is Spoken Here"; and it turns out, she could. So, to quickly recap, Me and Emma sang together first, then Patrick came in, then T'Neesha, then Matt, then two other girls who I don't know the names of, and that, I believe, was it (Nick refused to sing). As fate would have it, the bishop strolled by the room that same fine Sunday morning, and asked us all (Well, T'Neesha actually asked first) if we would sing that song for Sacrament meeting two weeks from now. I'm pretty much ready to go, but I'm not sure how many are ACTUALLY going to get up in the front of the rest of the ward and sing, when most of them are not inclined to do anyway or as randomly, unlike some other people (that would be me, sorry). But I tried. I had set dates for when we were going to practice, I had basically started it (well, okay, that's probably not ENTIRELY true), but yeah; It'll probably be me and Emma (...or maybe just me...) singing in front of everyone. I'm not saying that would be terrible, but it would be awesome if more the youth would come up and sing with us. Well anyway, it's time for dinner (at least at my house), so see you later! Happy St. Patrick's Day! Forever live the Green!
:D~

P.S. "...and now, a word from our sponsor... Kermit: it's not easy being Green.

P.P.S. Let the quote above be a soft encouragement to you who face people who are racist against the Green people. And now, adieu.