P.D.A. is A-OK

That is, by me. But these days your inability and/or unwillingness to "get a room", as so many teeth-sharpening, pre-pubescent pups are want to request, could land you in a much larger network of onlookers than, say, the line at Subway. When you choose to make out in public, you are rolling the dice at becoming someone's blog fodder, and despite the common notion held by so many who decline the option to "set the mood", the people that make fun of you are definitively not jealous. Some things are just gross. If you have ever seen a mother rat eat her young you will agree. I envy neither party in the transaction involving rats, nor do I wish (even in some untapped realm of my subconscious) to make a spectacle of my romantic endeavors. I trust we are clear on that.

While I have no footage (and believe me, I wish badly that I did) of the following event it is my finest illustration of the point. Years ago, before the health renaissance in her life, my sister Amy and I were at that most loved of all Tex-Mex establishments, Chili's. An enjoyable outing , as I recall, until three quarters of the way through the meal Amy looked up to laugh at something I had said and simultaneously dropped her utensil and clutched the tiled table while making a face that indicated obviously, to me, that the people behind me must have been vomiting on one another. I saw no other explanation. So I slowly began to turn around out of sheer morbid curiosity. Before my head had made it 90 degrees of its rotation Amy managed to unhook her claws from the table and sink them cleanly into the back of my hand. Without a word, she slowly shook her head from side-to-side. This was nothing for children. I pried her hand off my own and took a more leisurely seat in our booth so that I might nonchalantly observe things for myself.

I turned around to find a most unappealing couple gazing at each other with hideous dewy eyed wonderment at an unsettlingly close range. Now, I may have exaggerated a little bit before, though not much. However this piece is, in it's entirety, true. Seconds after I had them soundly in my sights the couple craned their heads back, an inch or so each, and then, as though attached by a taut coil, flew into one another's faces with such intensity that I was genuinely concerned for the physical composition of them. It appeared to me that the sheer force of the impact would have been enough, if ill-placed, to either shatter the cartilage in the nose or completely remove a tooth. They then twisted their heads about violently, like dogs trying to pull flesh off a carcass, as the pure energy of their love seemed to literally lift them off the seat in the booth. No breathing for a good ten seconds. Just the sound of stirring macaroni as their tongues slopped and swirled in and out of each others mouths. Amy was right. It was terrifying.

Thankfully their waitress came and halted the whole thing. A salsa wielding referee. It was just long enough for us to drop down some dollars and make our speedy escape. For which, we were both grateful.

P.D.A. is not the exclusive endeavor of this blog but I figured since I had a good story, I couldn't really miss.

One additive, since we all love them so much, is this picture of a couple in the Wilkinson Center. This is arguably the highest traffic location of any on BYU campus and this couple thought, "No. This is an alright place to straddle each other and play games with each other's hair." I disagreed, but had not the stomach to stop them. When it's funny, let the good times roll. Cheers team.