My brother and my cousin, both fifteen, are going out to party. (Actually, they're going to the next and even tinier village to hang out in the scummy backs of pubs because there's a 'festival' on, but that's as close as you get to action around here.) They BOTH came into my room to use my full-length mirror and obtain sartorial advice. While I lay on my bed, eating nachos and reading a book. My social life, ladies and gentlemen.
Ugh, Brendon, a crush on Megan Fox? Could you be more unoriginal? Not to mention, Megan Fox does not ascribe to my ideal of female beauty. She is so very ... orange. I find it disturbing. Imagine if she and Zefron had a baby! They'd douse it in fakebake and lose it on Halloween in a pumpkin patch.
I wish I could indulge in some flailing about New Perspective, but alas, such is not possible when your dialup connection is slower than a sedated triceratops. Second-hand squee tastes pretty stale, let me tell ya.