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Can you believe Thursday? The loss of Farrah (expected) was sad, BUT the death of Michael Jackson? Unreal. I held a constant vigil on the couch with a bowl of cereal (okay, two), my laptop, and CNN. Some really weird reports were coming out last night. One reporter said Michael was 100 lbs. Can I be honest and tell you I had mean thoughts about Michael when I heard that? 100 pounds…   And a family spokesperson went off script and said Jackson had a long-time problem with prescription drugs, and the family had tried to get him away from his “inner circle.” Britney knows how that feels.

Facebook lit up during the Michael Jackson is he/isn’t he hours. You know what drives me nuts? People whose first response is something like, “If only he had known Jesus” or “Now he’ll see how he wasted his life.”  THIS is why Christians get a bad name–because of the few. Yes, I hope he was saved too. Yes, Michael Jackson had a kookie life and was more than likely a pedo. BUT we don’t know that. And I don’t recall Christ spitting on any graves in the Bible. I hope when it’s my time, I get mercy from those I leave behind. And not, “I hear she could eat her body weight in Fruit Loops.”  “She should’ve read Nora Roberts less and her Bible more.”   “She will not be known for good flossing habits.” Even now people on FB are posting excerpts of things online that prove/disprove Jackson’s lack of salvation with a Three Snaps In Z Formation-Uh-Huh tone.  Look, that ship has gone into the glittery gloved night. Go harass love on someone else.  People who think every sermon is about someone else…

As I watched hours of CNN, E!, ABC News, etc., I was struck by the young Michael Jackson versus the older. Larry King said a young Michael Jackson stole interviews. He said an adult MJ was “not a good interview.” Makes you wonder what happened. You can see a different person in the younger years. He was more masculine at 12 than he was at 42. I really think there’s something chemical to it. A weird hormone imbalance at puberty? I dunno. I think it’s more than just a guy warped by being in the public eye all his life. (But on the very good chance I’m wrong, BIG RED FLAG to the Jon and Kate kids!)  I think fame can change you. . .but not THAT much. Fame doesn’t alter your estrogen levels.

And on a tacky note, what a day to die if you’re NOT Michael Jackson. Sorry, Farrah. You got robbed. Larry King said, “We had a whole show dedicated to Farrah, but now? There’s no way.”  Sucky poo.

If you grew up in the 80s (and I might’ve. . .), Michael Jackson was a part of your life. My BFF in early elementary had a Michael Jackson sleeping bag. I did not, and I did go through a brief period of unbridled jealousy. When I was in the fourth grade (I think?), my class sang “We Are the World” in some sort of ceremony honoring hometown senior citizens. Or some group. Former cafeteria ladies? Anyway, it’s still a great song. I watched it Thursday night and had fun picking out all the singers. Kenny Rogers is young, Bruce Springsteen’s entry is hilarious, and Cyndi Lauper is still sheer awesomeness.

But moving on. My Thursday was still great. I babysat my 8 year old nephew and three-and-a-half year old niece. When I got to my brother’s house, my niece woke up, came in the kitchen, and said, “Are you my Jenny?” There can be only one answer to that sweet question.

We watched part of Ghostbusters II, which I want to finish eventually because I did not remember how funny it was. My niece wanted me to see how she could watch the movie.

My niece glanced at me and said, “You could stand on your head too.”  Of course, I didn’t want to show off and intimidate the child, so I didn’t. Only reason.

My nephew in the car. Anyone see any evidence he’s related to me?

And then we went to Chick-fil-A for lunch. I thought the kids would be entertained with the indoor play thingie for a while, but they really weren’t.

Grandma’s pool is up for the season, and they went to bed last night with visions of sunscreen and goggles dancing in their heads. So they both couldn’t wait to haul it out of Chick-Fil-A. My niece got so excited she did not make it to the bathroom in time. Which she had to announce to the entire restaurant. THREE TIMES. As I’m quickly steering her to the bathroom, every time I’d say “Shhh!” she’d take that as a cue to say it louder. Even the hand to the mouth proved pointless.

Here’s my niece probably at the moment she realized she needed to go to the bathroom.

“Oops…Oh, well. I’ll just slide a few more minutes.”

“Hey, I have a secret!”

After two bites of chicken nuggets, we went to my mom’s to swim. Or I went to sit. Four hours. In 98 degree weather. The heat did not even faze these two.

Aren’t they cute? They are such good kids. (Minus the 15 minute scrub down in the bathroom for one.) I had a great time hanging out with them.

Conversation with my nephew: I don’t know where I want me go to college.
Me: You have a long time to decide.
Nephew: I want to be a Red Raider.
Sports Idiot Aunt: Where’s that.
Nephew: Boston. I want to play football for them.
Niece: Me too.

Nephew: Why do girls have whiskers on their legs?

Nephew: Are your car windows tinted?
Me: No.
Nephew: Why?
Me: Because I’m not cool.
10 minutes later…
Nephew: So none of these windows are tinted?
Me: No. So don’t pick your nose.

Niece when I was bathing her in sunscreen. “Rubby, rubby, dubby, scrubby. . .”

I hope you have a great weekend. Come back Monday for crazy trip pics, and another guest author interview and giveaway. It’s a summer of book givin!

Billie Jean is also not my lovah,

JEN